Jenna's Cowboy Hero (3 page)

“Fifty kids,” he repeated, like she didn't get it. “I don't even know if the buildings are finished.”

He sat down on the stool next to hers and it creaked. “Obviously the bar stools aren't one size fits all. Look, I'm not a bad guy, but this isn't my thing. Summer camps, Oklahoma, none of this is me.”

“I know you're not a bad guy. And you're right, this isn't my business. You have to make the decision that's right for you.”

He smiled, and she liked that smile, the one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “You're slick, but you're not going to work me this way.”

“I wasn't trying.”

“Of course not.” And his smile disappeared.

“I would help you.” She hesitated, at once sorry, but not. “I mean, it wouldn't take much to get the camp ready.”

“Don't you work?”

“I have two boys and ten horses. That's my work. But with the help of the community…”

She hopped down from the stool, momentarily forgetting, and she stumbled. A strong arm caught her,
holding her firm until she gathered herself. Her back to him, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” He stood next to her, his hand still on her arm. Looking up, she realized that his face was close to hers, his mouth a gentle line.

“Of course I am.”

He laughed, the deep baritone filling the emptiness of the dark and shadowy trailer. “Of course you are. You waited a whole five minutes after meeting me to involve yourself in every area of my life, and I can't get a straight answer on if you're okay. I know a knee injury when I see one. Remember, I've spent a lot of years getting plowed over and pushed down.”

“It's an old injury.” She smiled but it wasn't easy in the face of his unexpected tenderness, the baritone of his voice soft, matching the look in his eyes. “I need to check on the boys.”

He released her. “And I need to check on the barn and the dorms to see how much more money I'm going to have to spend to make this place usable.”

“But I thought you weren't going to run the camp.”

“I'm not running it. I'm going to get it ready for someone else to run. I'll let you and my noble agent, Will, run it. Or I'll put it up for sale.”

Jenna grabbed a tablet off the counter and the pen he had tossed down. “We'll drive down there. I can help you make a list for what you might need.”

Because she didn't feel like making the long walk through the brush on the overgrown trail that used to be a road. The boys were sitting on the porch steps, holding a turtle they'd found.

“Can we keep it?” Timmy poked at the turtle's head.

“No,” she answered as she walked down the steps of the porch.

“Why not?” all three guys asked.

“Because it wouldn't be happy in a box. It belongs here, where it can travel and find the food it likes, not the food we toss to it every day.”

The boys frowned at the turtle and then at Jenna. “We just want to keep it for a little while.”

David touched the back of the box turtle, fingers rubbing the rough shell. “I like him.”

Adam sighed and walked back into the house. He came back with a permanent marker. “Guys, there is a way you can keep an eye on this bad boy. We'll write your names and today's date on the bottom of his shell. When you're out here, you can find him and see how he's doing.”

And that's how he became a hero to her boys. Jenna watched, a little happy and a lot threatened. She couldn't let Adam into their lives this way.

Herself in his life, that was different. Making sure this place became a camp was important to her. It was important to kids who were living the same nightmare childhood she had lived.

It was about the camp, not about Adam “Big Mac” Mackenzie. She honestly didn't need to understand his smile, or the way his eyes lit up. It had been easy, imagining his story when he'd been a football player she and the guys cheered for. Now, with him so close and his story unfolding, she didn't want to know more.

 

Adam climbed back into the truck. The boys piled in with them this time because it was a short ride across a bumpy drive to the barn. He glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Jenna Cameron with her sun-streaked brown hair windblown and soft.

He wasn't staying. He wouldn't be pushed into this
by her, or by Will. They'd have to understand that he was the last person in the world who ought to be running a camp, dealing with children, especially in Oklahoma.

As soon as he could figure out what to do with this place, who to turn it over to, he'd head back to Atlanta, back to his life. Back to what?

He sighed and she flicked her gaze from the road to him. That look took him back more than a dozen years, to pickup trucks and fishing holes, summer sun beating down on a group of kids just having a good time.

There hadn't been many times like that in his childhood. His dad had always been pushing, always forcing him onto the practice field. He had sneaked a few moments for himself, enough to make a handful of memories that didn't include football.

And she brought back those memories, most of which he had forgotten.

The truck stopped in front of the barn. She shot him a questioning look. “It needs a corral.”

He nodded, like he knew. A long time ago he would have noticed. The barn sat on an open lot, no fences, no arena, no corral.

“It's probably going to need more than that.”

“Horses wouldn't hurt.” She smiled and then reached for the door handle to get out of the truck.

He followed her, walking behind her into the shadowy interior of the barn. One side was a stable. The other side was for hay, equipment and a room for tack. It creaked in the Oklahoma wind.

She looked up, questions in her brown eyes. The boys shrieked and she glanced in their direction. They were outside, the dog next to them barking.

“Timmy, David, what are you doing?”

“Snake!” the two shrieked at the same time. And
Adam noticed that they didn't scream in fear, but in obvious boyhood delight.

“Get them.” She looked up at him, expecting him to be the one to run to the rescue of her offspring. And he didn't think they wanted to be rescued. “Please, Adam.”

She couldn't run to them, and she wanted to. He could see it in the tight line of pain around her mouth. Ignoring the fact that the running he wanted to do was in the direction of Atlanta, he ran to the end of the stable and gathered the boys in his arms, pulling them back from the coiled snake. A garter snake, nonpoisonous and no threat to the boys or the dog.

“It's a garter.”

The boys wiggled to get free. He set them down, knowing that they'd go back to the snake. The reptile slithered along the side of the barn now, in search of a warm place to rest. The dog had lost interest and was sniffing a new trail.

Jenna was leaning against the barn, watching them, a soft and maternal smile turning her lips.

“Come on, guys. I think you've caused enough commotion for one day.” She motioned them to her side. “Mr. Mackenzie, don't give up on the camp. I know someone would buy it, live here, raise some cows. But a camp. Not just everyone can do that.”

“Probably true, but I'm not the person who can.”

“But you have to.” She turned a little pink. “I'm sorry, you don't have to.”

He wanted to smile. He wanted to ask how a person became so passionate about something, so willing to fight for it.

“Why does it mean so much to you?” As the words slipped out, he thought he probably didn't want the answer.

“It isn't about me. Not really. I think you shouldn't
give up on something that could mean so much to so many people. Including you. And, believe it or not, I think it meant a lot to Billy.”

“But it doesn't mean that much to me. I'm not looking for good deeds to do. This was about my cousin, something he wanted to do, and something that I had the money to help him with.”

“If you didn't believe in this when Billy proposed it to you, why did you give him the money?”

“I don't know.” And he didn't. He looked out the open doors of the barn and fought the truth. Maybe he did know why. Maybe he hadn't run as far from his roots as he'd thought.

“It's too bad that it won't be a camp. Come on, boys, we're going home. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.” She said it like she was disappointed in him, as if she had expected better from him. But she didn't know him.

Before he could say anything, she was walking away, the boys running a little ahead of her. The dog went in another direction, chasing a scent that interested him more than the direction his family was going.

As she climbed into her truck, not looking in his direction, he felt strangely let down. A thought that took him by surprise. She wanted this camp, not for herself but for the kids it could help.

At least it meant something to her. To him, it was just another way he'd been used.

He headed back down the driveway, toward the road, because the tow truck would arrive soon and the rental car he had ordered would be delivered in an hour.

The Mad Cow Diner was starting to sound pretty good, another sign that he was nearing the end of his rope. The lifeline he had to hold on to was the reality
that he could take care of what needed to be done, hand it off to someone else, and leave.

Jenna Cameron's truck rattled down the rutted driveway, slowing as she reached the road, and then pulling onto the paved road in the direction of her house.

“W
hat's up with you?” Vera sat down at the table across from Jenna. The Mad Cow wasn't crowded in the afternoon and the boys were enjoying slurping up chocolate shakes.

Jenna had fallen into a stupor. The black-and-white, Holstein-spotted walls of the diner had become a little hypnotic as she'd sat there, her elbow on the black tabletop, her chin on her hand.

Vera, dark hair pulled back in a bun and a smock apron over her white T-shirt, filled Jenna's cup and set the coffeepot down on the table.

Jenna picked up the sugar container and poured a spoonful or more into her coffee. “Why do you think something is up?”

Vera smiled as if she knew everything that was going on, and even what might happen. “Oh, honey, we all know that Adam Mackenzie crashed into your ditch the other day.”

“It wasn't my ditch.” She stirred creamer into her coffee. “It was the ditch across from me.”

“He came in for my chicken-fried steak last night, and the night before.”

And that made him Vera's hero. He would be Jenna's hero if he kept Camp Hope alive. That didn't seem too likely. Besides, she didn't need a hero. She had two little boys who were slurping up the last of their shakes and eyeing someone else's French fries.

“I think those boys need fries.” Vera slid out of her chair. “Don't despair, Jenna dear. It'll all work out.”

“I know it will, but I really want that camp.”

Vera's brows went up in a comical arch. “
You
want it?”

“For kids. Can you imagine what a treat that would be for children who don't normally get to attend camp?”

Kids like her, when she was ten or twelve, and broken, feeling like no one cared and God was a myth, meant only to keep naughty children on the straight and narrow.

She'd had a hard time with
straight and narrow
.

“I can imagine.” Vera's hand rested on her shoulder. “Give it time. I don't think he'll ditch it. If he isn't going to run it, someone else will.”

But would someone else run it at no cost for the kids attending, the way Adam's cousin had planned? She wished she had the money to buy it. But wishes were vapor and her bank account was barely in the black.

“Mom, how does a person get to be a football player on TV?”

Timmy's question shook her from her thoughts. She smiled at him. His lips were back on his straw and Vera had left, pushing through the doors, back into the kitchen.

“Lots and lots of work,” she answered, and then pulled the cup away from him and pushed the small glass of water close. “The shake is gone, drink some water.”

“Vera's making us some fries.” He grinned, dimples making it even cuter, even harder to resist. “She whis
pered that it's 'cause we're the best boys she knows. She's putting cheese on them, the way we like.”

He added the last with a lilt of an accent that was meant to sound like Vera. Jenna kissed his cheek. “You're the best boys I know, too. And we might as well order burgers, since you won't want supper now.”

David's eyes lit up. He pushed away the empty shake glass and sat down in the chair that he'd been perched on, sitting on his knees to better reach his glass.

“Do you think I could be a pro football player someday? I'd make a lot of money and you could have a big house in, well, somewhere.” Timmy was out of his chair, standing next to it. He didn't like to sit still, a reality that had caused problems in school last year.

First grade was going to be rough for him, a whole day of sitting still, listening.

“I don't need a big house and you should only play football if you love it, not because you think I want a big house.” She didn't think Adam Mackenzie loved the sport. She wondered if he ever had.

She had asked Clint, because her brother had known Adam years ago. Clint said he really couldn't say. Adam had seemed intent, serious, but he didn't know if he had loved it.

Vera returned with their fries. “What else, kiddos?”

“Go ahead and bring us three burgers, Vera. We'll let you cook for us tonight.”

Vera was all smiles. “You got it, sweetie. Three Vera specials coming up.”

The door opened, letting in heat and sounds from outside—a train in the distance and cars driving down Main Street. Vera's eyes widened. Jenna glanced back, over her shoulder and suddenly wanted to get her order to go.

 

“Jenna Cameron, imagine seeing you here.” Adam stood next to Jenna's table, smiling at the two boys because it was easier than smiling at her, easier than waiting for an invitation to join them and easier than dealing with the reality that he wanted to join them.

He told himself it was just pure old loneliness, living at that trailer, not having his normal social life. He was starved for company, that's all.

“You knew I was here. My truck's right out front.” She smiled up at him, a mischievous look in eyes that today looked more like caramel than chocolate.

He laughed. “You got me there. I thought I'd swing in for Vera's meat loaf and I wanted to tell you something.”

“Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair on her left.

He hesitated, but her wide eyes stared up at him, challenging him. He sat down, taking off his hat as he did. He hooked it over the back of the empty chair on the seat next to him.

The boys occupied the two chairs across the table from him. Blond hair, chocolate milk on their chins and suspicious looks in their eyes, they stared at him in something akin to wonder.

“So, what's your news?” Jenna leaned back in her chair, hands fiddling with the paper that had come off a straw.

“You get your camp.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'll be staying, at least through the end of July. My agent thinks I should stay and help get the camp running.” He wouldn't expand on Will's words, which had been a little harsher than what he was willing to admit to Jenna. “I called the church that left the message and told them I might be able to get something going in time, or close to it. If they can be flexible.”

Her eyes widened and he could see the smile trembling at the corners of her mouth. “I can help.”

“I thought you might.”

Vera pushed through the swinging doors of the kitchen carrying a tray of food and avoiding eye contact with him. Probably because she'd been listening in. At least she didn't have a camera or an agenda.

Or did she have an agenda? Probably not the one he was used to. More than likely Vera had only one agenda. She had matchmaking on her mind. She had the wrong guy if that was her plan.

“Did I hear someone mention my meat loaf special?” She set down plates with burgers in front of Jenna and the boys and pulled a pen and order pad out of her pocket. “I've got that chocolate chess pie you like.”

“No pie tonight. If I don't start cutting myself back, you'll have me fifty pounds overweight when I leave Dawson.”

Vera's brows shifted up. “Oh, don't tell me you're still in a hurry to get out of here?”

“Not anymore. I'm going to stay and make sure things are taken care of at the camp.”

Across from him the boys stopped eating their burgers and looked at each other. It was a look that settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, like a warning siren on a stormy afternoon. Those two boys were up to more than seeing who could get the most ketchup on their fries.

At the moment David was winning. He had a pile of ketchup on top of two fries and he was moving it toward his open mouth. Adam held his breath, watching, wanting the kid to win, and maybe to break into that big grin he kept hidden away.

Just as David started to push the fry into his mouth, the front door to Vera's opened. David looked up and
his fry moved, dropping the ketchup. Everyone at the table groaned, including Adam.

“That isn't the reaction I normally get when I walk into a restaurant.” The man stepping inside the door was tall, a little balding and thin. The woman behind him smiled, her gaze settling on Jenna.

“No, it's usually the reaction you get when you tell one of your jokes on Sunday morning,” the woman teased with a wink at Jenna, punctuating the words.

“Pastor Todd, Lori, pull up another table and join us,” Jenna offered a little too quickly and Adam got it. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of Adam Mackenzie at her table. He sat back, relishing that fact.

A little.

Until it got to him that she wasn't thrilled to be sharing a table with him. Jenna cleared her throat and a foot kicked his.

“Excuse me?” He met her sparkling gaze and she nodded to Pastor Todd.

“Could you help him move that table over here, push it up against ours?”

“Oh, of course.” Adam stood up. And he remembered his manners. “I'm sorry, we haven't met.”

“Pastor Todd Robbins.” Todd held out his hand. “My wife, and obviously better half, Lori.”

“Adam Mackenzie.”

And they acted like they didn't know who he was. Maybe they didn't. Not everyone watched football. He reached for the table and helped move it, pushing it into place as Jenna had directed. And Vera still watching, smiling, as if she had orchestrated it all.

 

“So, what first?” Jenna wiped her fingers on a paper towel she'd pulled off the role in the center of the table.

“What?” Adam looked surprised, like he'd forgotten the camp. She wasn't going to let him forget.

“The camp. You'll need beds, mattresses, food…”

He raised his hand, letting out a sigh that moved his massive shoulders. “I don't know where to start. I don't see any way this can be done in a matter of days.”

“Weeks.”

He didn't return her smile. “Yeah, well, my glass of optimism isn't as full as yours. We have less than two weeks. And then we have kids, lots of them, and they need activities.”

“Not as many as you might think. I think if you talk to their church, they have lessons planned, chapel services, music. You need the beds, window coverings. They'll bring their own bedding.” She stopped talking because he looked like a man who couldn't take much more. “Oh, horses.”

She whispered the last, in case he was at the end of his rope and about to let go.

“Horses?”

“Clint can help you with that.”

“Is there some way that I can help with this project?” Todd broke in. “I'd be glad to do something.”

“We'll need kitchen help, and people to clean the grounds and the cabins.” Jenna reached for her purse and pulled out a pen. She started to write, but Adam covered her hand with his.

She looked at his hand on hers and then up, meeting a look that asked her to stop, to let it go. He turned to Pastor Todd.

“Let's talk about it later, maybe tomorrow. Not now.”

He was in denial. Poor thing. And so was Jenna if she thought she was immune to a gorgeous man. She moved
the hand that was still under his, and he squeezed a little before sliding his hand away.

“Okay, tomorrow.” But she was no longer as sure as she had been. Adam smiled at her, like he knew what she was thinking. So she said something different to prove him wrong. “Clint will be back tomorrow.”

With that she let it go, because it hit her that she had just invited this man into her life. He was the last person she needed filling space in her world, in her days.

 

The horse tied in the center aisle of the barn stomped at flies and shook her head to show her displeasure with the wormer paste they'd pushed into her mouth. The tube said green apple. Jenna had no intentions of trying it, but she doubted it tasted anything like an apple. She patted the horse's golden palomino rump and walked around to her side, the injection ready with the animal's immunizations. Clint stood to the side. He and Willow had come home early and he'd surprised Jenna by showing up this morning to help with the horses.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Clint slipped the file back into the box of supplies he'd brought in. This horse's hooves hadn't needed trimming, which meant he had just stood back and watched as Jenna did what she needed to do.

And now she wished she had more to do so she could ignore his question. He knew her far too well.

“I'm not quiet.”

“Yes, you are. Normally when we get home from a trip you have a million questions. ‘How did Jason do this week?' He did great, by the way. Got tossed on his head.”

She looked up. Leaning against the horse's back, watching from the opposite side of Clint. “Is he okay?”

Jason was one of her best friends. She sometimes
regretted that they'd never really felt anything more than friendship. He'd make a great husband for someone. He was kind, funny, wealthy. And not the guy for her.