Montana Homecoming

“Fine.” All morning she’d endured sympathetic looks and comforting hugs and encouraging smiles from her family, but no one had said the words aloud. Pain clamped around her ribs. Her hands shook as she dug in her purse for a couple of twenties to help pay for the family meal.

“I’ve got it,” her oldest brother, Hunter, grumbled, standing in front of her in line. He fished a credit card from his wallet. “Put your money away, Brookie.”

“I should at least pay for my own sandwich.”

“Not going to happen.” Hunter was used to being in charge. As the oldest son, he’d borne the brunt of their father’s failures. Their youngest brother’s death had been the last straw. Hunter had grown harder through the years until it was almost impossible to remember the laughing, good-humored boy he’d been. They had been The Three Musketeers, she and Luke and Hunter roaming the hills and fields on their family’s land. Those long-ago happier times felt far away.

“You don’t look fine.” Luke’s voice turned gruff, another strong man uncomfortable showing his caring side. “You haven’t looked fine since you stepped foot inside the courtroom door this morning.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She’d meant to sound firm, but her voice came out strangled. The memories were a noose tightening around her throat, one she could not loosen.

“Leave her be, Lucas,” Hunter grumbled as he handed his card across the narrow counter to a smiling clerk in a green apron. “We all know life isn’t fair. No sense in dragging all that up again.”

Relief filtered through her, loosening the imaginary noose enough so she could breathe. All her life Hunter looked out for her, taking care of her, both he and Luke.

“I didn’t mean to drag up any bad stuff.” Luke’s brawny arm slid around her shoulders, hooked her by the neck and gave her a brief brotherly one-armed hug. “Just trying to help.”

“Stop helping.” Hunter shook his head and dug cash out of his pocket for the tip jar. A hint of a grin hooked the corners of his stern mouth. Growly on the outside, soft on the inside. “Go fill the cups, would you, Brookie?”

“Some things never change no matter how long you are away.” She shook her head, also fighting to hide a smile. “Bossy, bossy, bossy.”

“Someone has to be in charge. Why not me?” Hunter quipped as she grabbed the stack of cups on the counter.

“Why does it always have to be you?” Luke good-naturedly argued, his voice trailing after her as she headed for the soda machines.

Her brothers’ banter faded into indistinct rumbles blending with the other conversations in the busy shop. In their way, her brothers were trying to help and she loved them for it. She extracted one cup from the stack and stabbed it beneath the ice dispenser, and the anxious knot in her middle eased a notch. She had been away from home too long. She missed them all so much.

“Looks like you could use some help.” Colbie sidled in to steal two cups from the stack. “Brianna seems to be holding up well. It can’t be easy to have to relive what happened to her that night.”

“No, I’m sure it’s not.” She feared her sharp-eyed half sister’s comment had a double meaning, that Colbie was also gently wondering the same about Brooke. She closed the door on her memories, leaving them buried. She filled the cup with root beer, glancing over her shoulder. Bree and her identical twin, Brandi, sat at a table near Lil. Bree’s handsome fiancé towered at her side, his strong arm around her as if determined to protect her from the world.

Nice. She was so grateful her sister had found someone to love her, someone honest and good. Brianna deserved a happy future.

Her phone erupted into an electronic tune, surprising her. Who could it be? Root beer sloshed over the rim and onto her knuckles as she clapped on a plastic lid. Most people who would call her were in this restaurant. She thought of the applications she’d sent out before boarding the bus in Seattle. Oh, what if it was someone about a job?

“I’d better get this.” She opened her bag, heart pounding, fingers fumbling. Please, let it be a good job, she prayed.

“You go ahead. I’ll finish up.” Colbie shooed her away with an encouraging grin.

A little swish of hope beat through her as she stepped away. All she needed was a job to get back on her feet—that was all. Just one job. Any job. Her former position hadn’t paid well, but it had included her room and she didn’t need much to get by. She found her phone by feel in the bottom of her bag and checked the number.

Not an out-of-area phone call, she saw from her phone’s screen, but Liam Knightly’s name. He’d sent her a picture. Odd. She hit a button and a vivid image of a living room popped onto the display. Her jaw dropped at the image in full Technicolor. She stared unblinking at a living room in complete disarray. The couch had no cushions, lamps were toppled and DVDs were scattered all over the floor. Had he been robbed?

Wait a minute. She remembered a certain yellow Lab and the ham incident. Had Oscar done this? A grin stretched across her face. She couldn’t help it. That dog could sure destroy a room. Clearly a natural talent, poor boy.

Another chime, another picture. This one appeared to be of a spare bedroom made into an office. A desk’s empty surface shone beneath a sunny windowsill, a printer, a telephone and paper lay on the floor surrounding it. One closet door hung lopsided off its frame. In the corner of the room sat a yellow dog on an overstuffed chair, front paws propped on one chewed-up arm, a deliriously happy grin on his canine face.

“That’s a cute dog.” Colbie glanced over her shoulder. “Why did he do that to the room?”

“Separation anxiety. How did Liam get my number?”

“It’s a mystery.” Eyes sparkling, Colbie sashayed away loaded down with soda cups.

It was no mystery at all. Brooke rolled her eyes. A text message filled her screen.

I need professional help, Liam wrote.

That’s a private matter between you and your therapist. Her thumbs flew across the keys.

Funny. Just what I need. A comedic dog trainer.

She huffed out a breath. I’m not a dog trainer.

Colbie said U were.

She sighed. Colbie is a meddler.

That doesn’t change the fact I need a dog trainer. U interested?

The image of his face, of the amused, easygoing gleam in his striking blue eyes, came to her as easily as if he stood in front of her. Definitely a bad sign and a hint that maybe she should turn down his job offer.

But, come to think of it, she could use the work. Clearly Oscar could use some help adjusting to his new home. Her thumbs tapped out an answer. Maybe.

I’ll pay whatever U want. His words seemed frantic. Just help me.

I’m not sure U can be trained, but I can try.

Me? What about Oscar?

For his sake, I’ll do it. She hit Send, shaking her head. So, she had a job of sorts after all.

Her phone chimed with Liam’s next text. Great. Whew. I need your help desperately.

With a little training up, I think you will make a fine dog owner, she typed and hit Send.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a decade.” Hunter ambled up, carrying two loaded trays of sandwiches. “Got a boyfriend we don’t know about?”

“He’s not even a friend and that’s the way it will stay, so don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.” Brothers. She grabbed the rest of the sodas and joined her brother at the two tables the family had claimed. After she handed out the drinks, her cell chimed again.

Me? I don’t need training. I already know how to sit. How to fetch.

She could imagine the manly crinkles in the corners of Liam’s eyes as he grinned, typing those words. She eased into a chair, tapping out an answer on the keys. It’s a start. Text me your address and I’ll swing by after court.

“Brooke, we’re waiting on you to say grace.” Hunter frowned as if annoyed as he stacked the emptied trays. His annoyance was pure show. His dark gaze shone with gentleness.