Parker (2 page)

“Let’s see.” She glanced up. “Someone brought
a fruit tray that hasn’t been touched—I would eat that soon before
it spoils. These plastic containers are full of food left from what
was out this afternoon. Probably should eat that stuff soon, too.
And anything that could be frozen,” she shut the refrigerator door
and opened the freezer side, “I packaged up and put it here.
Everything is labeled. Wow, you have food for weeks.”

She turned and faced the women, both with
looks of disbelief on their faces.

“Wow,” Mercer echoed, “is right. You’re as
good as Bekah from
Bekah’s Cottage
!”

“Ditto.” Callie blinked. “Can we keep
you?”

Reba laughed. “Oh girls, you flatter me.
Although I
wish
I was Bekah. That woman is amazing!” She
turned and bit her lip, glancing about to see if there was any way
to change the subject. Then curious, she turned back. “So, do you
all follow her blog?”

“Oh yes. She’s so fun and practical,” Callie
said. “I love her blog posts. And she does
great
social
media work. Marketing was my major in college.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I follow her on
Facebook and Twitter.”

Mercer added, “Reba, you are so cool. Bekah
is just so appealing to everyone. So down to earth. I love her
recipes. Mom and I have tried a few. Especially the Creamy Butter
Crust Pound Cake recipe….”

“With all of the variations?”

“Of course!”

“Yes, that’s a favorite,” Reba added. And it
truly was one of her all-time favorite cake recipes.

“Well,” Callie continued, “I’m impressed with
everything you have done here today. Bekah has nothing over on you.
Obviously, Parker is going to be happy as a clam.”

Bekah’s Cottage
dismissed now, Reba
balked at the mention of Parker. Their brief encounter earlier had
left her wondering about him. A lot of people had been in and out
while she organized and kept things rolling. He’d not been back in,
she was pretty much certain, although a number of people had
filtered in and out, looking for drinks or flatware or a napkin. At
times it was a bit chaotic.

He was a handsome man. Make no mistake about
that. And she’d heard he was single.

Of course,
she
wasn’t interested.

“Then my work here is done. I’m all about
making people happy with a good meal.”

She watched the young women exchange a
glance. Mercer rose and said then, “You are so wonderful to do all
of this, Reba. How can we thank you?”

Grinning inwardly, Reba shook her head and
rotated toward the back door, where she plucked her purse and a
sweater off a hook. After laying a hand on the doorknob, she turned
back to face the two with a big smile. “Just eat and enjoy. That’s
thanks enough. You all have had an emotional and trying week. I’m
sure you are tired as all get out. People need to eat during these
times, so make sure that you do.” She opened the door and then
jerked back. “Oh, and the big salad bowl is mine. I’ll come back
for it in a couple of days.”

“Never mind about that.” The male voice came
from the other side of the room.

The girls turned, and Reba lifted her gaze.
Parker McKenna had entered the kitchen. Larger than life, he
commanded such a presence she almost gasped. He was more than
handsome, strikingly so, with his short dark-brown hair, broad
shoulders, and cocky cowboy stance. Mercy. And those dark, piercing
eyes, and the way he used them almost as a weapon—a seductive
weapon—caught her totally off guard this time, more so than
earlier.

He strolled forward.

Well, hello, tall, dark and cowboy,
said the wench in her head.

Stop it!
ordered her inner good girl.
You’ve made a promise to yourself. Remember?

Reba opened her mouth to speak, but he
interrupted.

“No worries about the salad bowl,” he said,
“I’ll bring it by when we’re finished. That is, if it’s not an
imposition.”

“Oh, I don’t mind coming by,” she told
him.

“And your place is on my way into town, so
it’s not a bother.”

Reba smiled politely. “I surely do not want
to inconvenience you, Parker.”

He took another step closer, one that seemed
to suck the air right out of the room. Was it hot in here? Did she
forget to turn off an oven? Were her cheeks red?

“I insist, Reba. Of course, like I said, if
it’s not an imposition.”

Imposition? Of course it is an
imposition!
Couldn’t he tell that she didn’t
want
him at
her place?

It was all Reba could do not to stammer her
reply. But she fortified herself with every
charm-school-etiquette-class scenario she’d ever experienced. “Why
no,” she said, smiling sweetly on the outside and quaking on the
inside. “It’s not an imposition, Mr. McKenna. Not at all. I look
forward to your visit.”

“Parker,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “Of course.”

The hell it wasn’t an imposition, but she
did have her manners.

****

Parker stepped through the back door and onto
the porch. He watched the dirt trail billow up behind the older
model Suburban as his new neighbor drove away from the house and
toward the main road.

Where she had come from, he had no clue. He
supposed everyone was too caught up in his or her own lives to
gossip right now—including himself. Not that he was into gossip,
but word did get around quickly when someone new moved into the
area.

Reba was pretty. And pleasant. Nice. Her
smile was welcoming, and those flashing green eyes were wickedly
sinful. With each blink of her black lashes, she’d touched a place
inside of him that hadn’t been touched in a long time.

Been too long without a woman.

Yes, it had been too long, and his crotch was
growing tight just thinking about it.

Not the time.

No, it wasn’t. Too many other things on his
agenda now.

He was thankfully alone, the sun setting and
leaving an orange-pink halo glow to the west, reminding him of just
how long this day had been. He’d been up before sunrise, sitting
right here on the porch, contemplating what it was going to be like
to put his father in a grave today. He’d needed those long moments
of quiet reflection, and he was glad he’d taken them. The remainder
of the day had been one difficult moment after another.

But he made it through. The sun was about to
set on the day. He’d be damned if he’d let it set on his father’s
memory.

Shaking his head, he stepped forward and
leaned into a post, relieved to have escaped the kitchen in time to
avoid Liz as she’d bustled in. She’d called his name as he closed
the door behind him, but he simply moved on, pretending he didn’t
hear.

It was a difficult day for everyone. Liz had
lost her husband, the girls their father, and Brody his stepdad. Of
course, he’d lost his dad, too. Hell, every single person who lived
or worked on this ranch had their own significant relationship with
his father. It was a loss any way you looked at it.

Parker only wanted to deal with his own
emotions right now. He also wanted a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in
six months. Dammit. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his
hands, so he shoved them into his pockets and stared over the
landscape leveling out in front of him.

Reba Morris’s taillights blinked in the
distance as she neared the main road, her vehicle dipping into and
over small hills and gullies as she drove. He froze as he watched
her brake lights flash and spin and, then finally, roll.

He pushed off the porch post and yelled,
“Brody! Murphy! Get your asses out here now!”

He ran for his truck.

Chapter Two

The deer came from out of nowhere.

With dusk falling and the setting sun
streaming through the windshield, Reba saw the animal too late. It
came from the right, and for a fleeting moment, hooves pounded
against the glass and the windshield crackled and popped as it
shattered. It scared the hell out of her.

She was used to deer darting into the road in
Kentucky, and knew the times of day to watch for them, but never
had she actually tangled with one. This deer had taken her totally
off guard.

Instinct, rather than any kind of driving
skill, made her jerk the steering wheel in the opposite direction.
It could have been the wrong thing to do—her worn tires slipped and
spun on the soft dirt road.

Then she hit the ditch—and rolled the
truck.

It all happened in a nanosecond. A blur. Fast
forward and slow motion at the same time. Thank God she always wore
her seatbelt.

The truck came to a rapid, jarring halt on
the passenger side, rocked a bit, and then she was hanging from her
seat. Sort of. Sideways. For a moment, she stayed still, trying to
get her bearings straight. The windshield had cracked
significantly.

She brought her right hand to her forehead.
Good God, she had a goose egg already, right above her left eye.
She pulled her hand away. Sticky. Blood. She’d hit her head on the
steering wheel. Had she cracked her head open?

Glancing around her inside the cab, she
attempted to orient herself. How to get out? Could she unlatch the
seatbelt and drop to the other side of the truck or somehow wiggle
up and out of the driver’s side door?

She didn’t know if she could do either. Her
head hurt, darn it, and she was more than a little stunned.
Probably not thinking straight.

She tried the power window beside her. Pain
shot through her left forearm toward her elbow. She gasped and
cursed. The window didn’t budge.

She tried lifting the door handle to open the
door. Nada.

Finally, she felt for the seatbelt latch and
tried to push it with a forefinger. Stuck.

Dammit. She was
stuck
.

She sighed, deep, and let her head fall
against the seat. Dammit,
dammit!
It would soon be dark, and
she certainly didn’t want to spend the night hanging here inside
the vehicle until someone discovered her in the morning. Certainly,
she could maneuver herself out of this belt, but no amount of
twisting and squirming in her awkward position seemed to help.
Besides, the strain made her head hurt more.

That scenario of her hanging there all night
might indeed play out, and she resigned herself to that fact.

Then she jerked. Cell phone? Where was it?
She always kept it on the charger. Was it still attached to the
cigarette lighter? There. Jammed between the console and passenger
seat. She stretched to snag it, but it was too far down, out of
reach. And the more she tried to poke at it, the farther it slid
down in that narrow crack.

Hell’s bells. Reba closed her eyes and tried
to think. If only the pounding in her head would stop. “Just think,
Reba. You’re a smart girl. Just think.”

When she opened her eyes again, the
headlights of another vehicle cutting through the night blinded
her.

Thank God.

****

Parker’s heart raced. The last thing he
needed right now was another night of drama—but he would never
refuse help to anyone in trouble.

And especially not a new neighbor.

There was something about Reba Morris. He
wasn’t certain what. She was different, that was for sure. A little
softer around the edges than many women he knew. She appeared smart
and well put together, and not in an off-putting way. She was
friendly and open.

Perhaps a little guarded. He couldn’t put his
finger on it.

And she was probably in trouble right now, if
what he thought just happened, had.

Murphy had jumped in with him as he turned
the truck around, and Parker yelled to Brody to follow in his own
truck. You never know when you’ll need two vehicles. Perhaps
someone to run and fetch more help.

They raced down the bumpy, washboard road,
and his gut clutched as he saw the SUV sitting on its side. He
didn’t see anything else, which could be good and bad. At least she
wasn’t thrown from the vehicle.

He parked and then jumped out, grabbed a
flashlight from under the seat, and slammed the door behind him.
“Reba!”

“Over here. Oh, thank God!”

Her voice was high-pitched and laced with
panic. He rushed to the truck and could see her as he aimed the
flashlight beam down through the driver’s side window. “We’re going
to get you out. Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride!” she shouted back.

It was more than that. Her face was streaked
with blood. He jerked on the door handle.

“It’s jammed. And I can’t unlatch my
seatbelt.”

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll figure this out. Stay
calm.”

“I’ll try.”

Yeah, and so would he. For some reason, his
insides were nothing but calm.

Good thing was, he couldn’t smell fuel, so he
didn’t think there was imminent danger of explosion or fire. But
when he rounded the front of the truck, he immediately jumped back
and yelled.

A deer leaped forward, startled at Parker’s
approach. The deer’s back hooves pummeled the windshield, and it
cracked even more. Reba shrieked. Parker aimed the flashlight beam
toward the animal’s direction and watched it buckle to the ground
again.

Broken leg, likely. “Brody!”

His younger stepbrother joined him. “Ah,
dammit. I hate that.”

“I know. But she’s suffering. Your gun in the
cab?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

Parker turned his attention back to the truck
and Reba, intent now on getting her out of there as quickly as
possible. He gripped the flashlight firmly in his hand and shouted
out, “Reba, cover your face best as you can. I’m coming in through
the windshield to get you out of there.”

“Okay.” Her voice quavered a bit, and it only
spurred him on.

The deer was nearly forgotten until he heard
the single gunshot crack the night. Murphy and Brody were behind
him, and he realized they were taking the deer to Brody’s truck.
Someone would benefit from the meat. One good thing…