Finding Hope (Nugget Romance 2) Page 5

  Ever.

  “Justin’s mad at my dad for letting you live here,” he blurted.

  “Oh?” She supposed it might explain why Justin didn’t seem to like her very much. “How about you? Are you angry?”

  He took his time contemplating the question. “No,” he said wistfully. “I don’t want this place to be a shrine to her. When my friend Sam’s mom was hit by a car, he said people put flowers, crosses, and stuffed animals by the road. I think my mom would’ve liked that better.”

  She nodded. “Maybe you and Justin could do that with your dad sometime.”

  “Justin’s a jerk. He’s always bad-mouthing my dad,” he said. “And my father acts like he’s mad at my mom for dying.”

  “Has he told you that?”

  “No, but I can tell.”

  “It’s pretty normal, you know? Sometimes people need to get angry before they can grieve. He misses her, Cody.”

  After a few more minutes, the oven bell dinged. Emily slipped on a mitt and pulled the tray out of the oven. The croissants had puffed up to the proper height and were golden brown and flaky. Finally, she’d gotten it right.

  “You think my dad will be here soon? Maybe I should call him.”

  She glanced at the kitchen clock. “He’s still got a few hours to go. What? Am I such bad company?”

  “You’re good company,” he said, and managed a smile before going back to scrolling through his cell.

  She leaned over the counter and tried to get a look at the phone’s display. “What’s so important?”

  “Just looking to see if my dad tried to call or text me.” He shoved the iPhone back into his pocket.

  And then it dawned on her. “Are you worried about him?”

  “No. He’s a good driver.”

  Ah, perhaps the feigned tummy ache, the talk of parachute-safe airplanes, and the incessant phone checking was nerves. Maybe his mother’s car accident had made him anxious for the rest of his family.

  Instead of pressing the issue, she sliced one of the croissants lengthwise, slathered it with the aioli she’d made the night before, and stuffed the insides with Jambon de Paris and Gruyère. She stuck it under the broiler for a few seconds.

  “You’re my official taster,” she told Cody, sliding the plate to him. “If you like it, it goes in the cookbook I’m working on. If not, I nix it. See how much power you have?”

  Cody took a bite out of the sandwich, chewed, savored, and swallowed. He worked his way to the side of the croissant where a little cheese had oozed out and took a second bite. Clearly, he took the assignment seriously.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  He gave her two thumbs-up. “Miss Mathews, you have got to put this sandwich in the book.”

  She grinned at him. “I’d make you chocolate chip cookies, but I’m out of eggs.”

  His eyes grew big. “Hang on a sec.” Before she could stop him, he darted out the door.

  “Cody, where are you going?” She chased him down the path to the big farmhouse, past the three-car garage, down a short dirt trail, to a small yard with a chicken coop.

  He unlatched the wire door, went inside, and emerged a short time later holding the bottom of his shirt like a pouch. Inside were five brown eggs.

  “Are these enough?” he asked.

  “More than enough.” She grinned foolishly at the fresh eggs. They were still warm, as if they’d just been laid. “They’re wonderful. But are you sure it’s okay to take them?” Maybe Clay sold the eggs, or the chickens belonged to one of the ranch hands.

  “Of course. They’re just eggs.” He said it with the casualness of a boy who had spent a fair amount of time on a farm. Not a city girl like Emily. Even the eggs she bought at farmers’ markets were at least a day old.

  “Do you need milk for the cookies?” he asked eagerly. “We have a milk cow.”

  “You do?” Her face must’ve turned all gooey, because Cody puffed up proudly.

  “We’ve got everything here.”

  “Pretty cool. But I’m good on milk for now.”

  They went back to the barn, baked for the next hour, and gorged themselves on cookies. Cody only checked his phone three more times before falling asleep in front of the TV. Emily was cleaning the kitchen when Clay knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Cody.

  He took off his cowboy hat, hung it on a hook by the door, and searched the floor for something. “What happened to the boot jack?”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind.” He pried off his boots, balancing on one leg at a time and left the pair outside on the porch.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “If you’d gotten a whiff of those boots, you’d be happy that I did.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair in a subconscious attempt to smooth his hat head.

  Not for the first time, Emily marveled at what an amazing-looking man he was. His face, weathered by the sun, should’ve aged him. But the crinkles around his blue eyes, the faint lines near his mouth, and the days’ worth of dark stubble only made him more virile.

  A plaid shirt stretched across his broad chest, the tails hanging out over his faded Levi’s. Apparently this was business casual for him. A look that advertisers could’ve used to sell hemi trucks to women executives if they thought Clay McCreedy came with the package.

  Emily surmised that his only reason for still being single was that he was deeply grieving his late wife.

  He seemed to want to linger, but she had a lot of work to do. Emily supposed in the interest of being neighborly she should at least offer him something to drink. “You want a cup of coffee?”

  Usually about this time, when the sun started to set, Emily had a glass of wine on the deck. But the implications of that offer might seem more than neighborly. A guy like him probably got hit on a lot. And her being a single woman, living alone . . . Well, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a beer, would you?”

  “Just a bottle of Pinot Noir I’ve been nursing.” It sat out on the kitchen counter in plain view and it would’ve been weird not to mention it.

  “I’d take a glass, if you’re offering,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  She reached into a cupboard for two goblets and poured the Pinot. “Why don’t we take it outside so we don’t disturb Cody?”

  He followed her onto the deck, where they sat in Adirondack chairs overlooking the river. “Did my boy behave?”

  “He was great,” she said, and decided to tell him her theory about Cody’s nerves, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds. “He kept checking his phone as if half expecting to get word that something bad had happened to you. I’m wondering if it has to do with your wife’s car accident.”

  Clay surprised her when he said, “Yep. We’re seeing a shrink about it. She says he’s suffering from anxiety, or post-traumatic stress disorder—that it’s not uncommon when there’s a sudden death in the family. Anytime I leave home, he makes himself nuts.”

  “I’m sorry. That has to be awful—for both of you.”

  “We’re managing.” He turned slightly to face her. “Thanks for babysitting. I know you’re busy and I swear I won’t make a habit out of it.”

  “Cody says Justin’s upset about me living here.”

  Clay let out a sigh and rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “Yeah, he shouldn’t have told you that. The truth is Justin’s upset with the world right now. He’s going through a phase.” She laughed at the way he said “phase,” stretching out the word.

  “I love living here, but I don’t want to cause your family any problems. Seems like you have enough on your hands.”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He flashed her a smile that would’ve made a lesser woman’s heart race. “I’m glad the place is working out. The new stove okay?”

  She nodded. “It’s been getting plenty of use with the cookbook I’
m working on.”

  “What kind of cookbook?”

  “Le Petit Déjeuner. A chain of French cafés, owned by Starbucks, is working with me on a bistro cookbook.”

  “Bistro cookbook?” He rubbed his chin. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Simple dishes. Gratins, soups, salads, and sandwiches. That sort of thing. Cody was kind enough to be my taster today.”

  “Oh?” He cocked a brow. “How do I go about getting a job like that?”

  She laughed. “I’ll send you home with some croissants and the chocolate chip cookies we made for fun.”

  “Sounds like dinner.” In that case she’d give him the rest of the ham and cheese too.

  He took his glass into the kitchen and roused Cody off the couch. “Hey, buddy, let’s not take any more advantage of Ms. Mathews’s hospitality.”

  “Hi, Dad,” Cody said in a groggy voice, stretching until his father pulled him to his feet.

  “Hang on while I make you a care package,” Emily said from the kitchen.

  “I’ll wait in the truck,” Cody said.

  “You have something you want to tell Ms. Mathews first?”

  “Thank you, Ms. Mathews,” he called on his way out.

  Emily finished loading the leftover baked goods and the fixings into a bag and walked Clay to the door. Unable to help herself, she asked, “Cody says you have three airplanes. Is that true?”

  “Yep. Want to go for a ride, see the Sierra from the sky?”

  He waited expectantly for an answer while she stood there frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. A part of her wanted to take him up on the offer. The views would surely be spectacular and Clay had proven to be nice company.

  Okay, more than nice. He was so comfortable with himself that he made her feel comfortable. Even if he was about the most handsome man she’d ever met.

  But it would be better to keep her distance. A father of two young boys was more than she wanted to take on. Even just in friendship.

  So, as he stood there, eagerly gazing down on her, Emily simply said, “I can’t.”

  Chapter 5

  At two in the morning, a screaming siren rent the air, pulling Clay out of a sound sleep. He lay there for a few seconds, disoriented, trying to remember if he was still on a navy carrier, or on base.

  Then Cody yelled for him and the fog cleared. Clay jumped out of bed and ran down the hallway, meeting his son halfway.

  “What’s going on, Dad?”

  They didn’t get sirens too often in Nugget and especially not on McCreedy Road. He went to check on Justin, but midway to his room remembered he was still in Yosemite.

  “I don’t know,” Clay said, and headed back to his room to throw on some clothes.

  Cody followed him to the front porch in his pajamas. “Go in and put some shoes on,” he told his son.

  He was just about to jog up the trail to make sure Emily was okay, when Cody shouted from a second-story window. “Uncle Rhys is on the phone.”

  Clay went back inside and picked up the downstairs extension.

  “Can you come over?” Rhys asked.

  Clay didn’t take the time to ask questions, just said, “I’ll be there in five.” He hung up and shouted for Cody to bust a move.

  Rhys lived at the end of McCreedy Road in a house Clay had sold him. It was part of a large parcel that Clay had bought out of foreclosure. He’d wanted the land to add more cattle to his herd, and at the time his friend had desperately needed a bigger house for him, his father, and his much younger half siblings, Sam and Lina. Later, when he married Maddy, she moved in too.

  When he and Cody got there, an ambulance was parked in the driveway and a couple of paramedics were loading a stretcher into the back. He pulled his truck off to the side and they headed to the house, where Rhys was huddled with Sam and someone from the fire department.

  “Got here as fast as I could,” Clay said.

  Rhys squeezed Cody’s shoulder. “Sorry to get you up, buddy.” He met Clay’s eyes and said, “It’s Shep. They’re taking him to Plumas General. I know this is short notice, but if it becomes necessary, you think you could fly to San Francisco and bring Lina home?”

  His sister was there for college orientation. Come fall, she’d start her first semester at USF. Rhys, nervous about his sister making the four-hour trip alone, had driven her. He was supposed to pick her up tomorrow.

  “You bet,” Clay said. “I just have to file a flight plan and I could probably get her tonight.”

  “Let’s wait and see,” Rhys said.

  Rhys’s father—everyone called him Shep—suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. Over the last several months his condition had worsened to the point where he’d forgotten how to swallow. His caretakers mostly fed him through tubes now. But Clay knew Rhys was having a hard time letting go.

  Maddy came outside and greeted Clay and Cody with hugs, then turned to Rhys. “Jake said he’d cover you for as long as you need.”

  Rhys nodded. “You think you could stick around here with Maddy?” he asked Clay.

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Maddy rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the hospital with you.”

  “Come on, Maddy. That’s just asking for trouble,” Rhys argued. “You want to catch something? Because that’s the place to do it.”

  “Rhys,” she said. “I’m pregnant, not immune deficient.”

  Clay stepped in, knowing that keeping Maddy home would give his friend peace of mind. “Come on, Mad. I can always take you to the hospital later.”

  “What? Now I have both of you ganging up on me? Fine, I’ll stay. But the minute you know something, I’m on my way.”

  “Okay. Fair enough,” Rhys said, and turned to Sam. “You want to stay with Cody, or come with me?”

  “I’m going with you,” he said.

  Sam was Cody’s best friend. Less than a year ago, his mother had been killed in a hit and run. Right now, he looked so shell-shocked that Clay would’ve given anything to reassure him that his father would be okay. The four of them stood next to the ambulance, waiting for the paramedics to insert an IV.

  Rhys leaned in and took his father’s hand. “Can you hear me, Pop? Sam and I are here.”

  One of the medics motioned for them to move so he could shut the doors. “We’ve got to move, Chief.”

  “I’ll follow,” Rhys told him.

  Maddy got his keys from inside the house and they all watched as the ambulance left with its lights flashing and the siren blaring.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” Rhys kissed Maddy goodbye. “Stay off your feet.” To Clay, he said, “I appreciate you coming.”

  He and Sam jumped in his truck and took off after the ambulance. After they could no longer see Rhys’s taillights, Clay ushered everyone into the house. Maddy put on a pot of coffee and Cody curled up on the sofa.

  “Justin still in Yosemite?” she asked.

  “Yep.” He took the mugs from her hand and put them down on the table, patting one of the chairs for her to sit. “You doing okay?”

  She blew out a breath. “It’s bad, Clay. I don’t know if Shep’ll pull through this time. It’ll break Lina and Sam’s heart. And Rhys . . . it’s strange . . . He hated his father for so long. Then, after I got pregnant, it was like something broke inside him. He all of a sudden had so much love for the man. And he desperately wants him to meet his grandbaby.” Maddy dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’m just glad that Rhys has been able to forgive him. It’s healthier. Especially if he doesn’t make it.”

  “It’s good,” Clay agreed. “But you didn’t answer my question. When Rhys called, I thought it might be something with the baby.”

  “I’m fine.” She patted her tummy. “Other than the morning sickness, I feel great. Rhys is being extra protective.”

  The phone rang; Cody got up to answer it and handed it to Maddy. “It’s Lina.”

  “They just left for the hospital,” Maddy told her. Lina said something that
made Maddy shake her head. “You didn’t have to do that, Lina. Clay would’ve come to get you. Do you even know this guy who’s driving you?”

  Maddy continued to listen, and after a while said, “Okay, but be careful. Stop to get coffee if he gets tired and text me with updates. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

  Maddy hung up and turned to Clay. “She met a boy at orientation who lives in Truckee. He’s offered to drive her home.” She let out a sigh. “Rhys’ll love that.”

  Clay laughed, knowing how overly protective his friend could be. “He better get used to it. The boys are going to be all over Lina.”

  “Yes, they are,” Maddy agreed. “How’s the new tenant working out?”

  “Okay.” Although a bit reserved for his taste. She’d responded so strangely to his offer to take her flying. It was just a friendly gesture because she’d shown an interest in his planes and had helped out with Cody. Hardly a pickup. But she’d gone icy cold.

  Too bad, because she was the first woman he’d met since Jennifer died who hadn’t been all over him. It would be nice if they could occasionally have a glass of wine together. Keep each other company.

  “What, you don’t like her?”

  “She’s fine.” He smiled. “Just a little distant.”

  “Oh my God.” She laughed. “You actually found a woman who doesn’t fall at your feet? Imagine that.”

  “Let me know when you’re done enjoying yourself.” He got up to get the coffee and waited for her to stop giggling. “How’s the inn?”

  “We’re nearly booked through the rest of summer and even have a few local weddings, if you can believe it.” The townsfolk hadn’t always loved the idea of Maddy renovating the old Lumber Baron and turning it into a hotel.

  He started to pour, but she covered her mug. “None for me. I’ll have some herbal tea.” She got up, heated some water, and rummaged through the pantry for a tea bag.

  He’d nearly forgotten that she couldn’t drink coffee. When Jennifer had first gotten pregnant with Justin, she couldn’t give up caffeine. They used to fight about it when he’d come home on leave. Maybe that’s why the kid had turned out to be such a colossal pain in the ass.