way.”
“ ’Cause it’s the right way,” she answered sweetly.
Oh now she was flirting—in front of her whole family. That didn’t feel right. They’d start asking questions she couldn’t answer because even she didn’t know what was going on.
“So you like strong women now, but maybe not in high school. You did break up with Monica Shaw all those years ago.”
Brooke could almost see the wheels of memory turning in his head—how many women’s faces did he have to go through to find the right one?
“Monica Shaw,” he echoed, nodding. “She still live here in town?”
“I just had dinner with her a couple nights ago. She remembers you.”
“I bet. I was pretty preoccupied with . . . football back then.”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “You tell yourself that, soldier.”
“You gonna keep calling me that?”
Though he spoke good-naturedly, something about the question intrigued Brooke. “I might. You have a problem with it?”
He paused, then shook his head.
She excused herself to return to the kitchen, where the prime rib awaited slicing on the stove. Again, she wondered if he was watching her, thinking about her, because she certainly couldn’t forget about him.
Grandma Thalberg joined her and worked on the mashed potatoes. “Adam seems like a nice young man.”
“Yep,” Brooke said, concentrating on the task at hand—and hoping to dissuade her grandma.
“You two had a lot to talk about.”
“We were talking about our grandmothers’ exploits, nothing more. We’re polite, Grandma, but we might as well be strangers.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“We do. Let’s just leave it at: It’s nice to talk to someone new.” Nothing more complicated than that, she reminded herself. Something was going on inside her, a new question about her plans for her life, and she needed to focus on that, not a relationship.
The dining-room table was big and rough-hewn, a legacy from Brooke’s great-grandparents. It seated the eight of them comfortably, and she found herself sitting opposite Adam, her brothers next to her, the widows next to him.
As they ate strawberry and walnut salad, the conversation ranged from the burned barn, to Thanksgiving, to the harsh early-winter conditions that might complicate calving season come January. Her dad, a veteran of Vietnam, brought up the current war, and though Adam did say he had sometimes visited the NATO base at Kandahar, he added little else. In fact, though he looked politely around the table as people spoke, he didn’t contribute much. He made her quiet brother Josh look talkative. For a man who once boasted about his football receiving records, he had nothing to say about his service with the Marines. She found herself full of sympathy; she couldn’t image what he’d experienced, what he’d seen.
Her father chewed a slice of prime rib, swallowed, then glanced at Adam speculatively. Brooke found herself tensing, even though she knew her father wasn’t the sort to pry.
“So are you plannin’ to stick around for a while, Adam?” Doug asked.
“A while,” Adam responded.
Mrs. Palmer beamed. Brooke noticed that she hadn’t touched much of her food except to push it around on her plate. She was a hearty woman, full of passion for life and people—and food. Sandy met Brooke’s gaze curiously after noticing Mrs. Palmer’s lack of appetite, and all Brooke could do was give a tiny shrug. She didn’t know what was going on, but it certainly had something to do with Adam.
“You ride a horse, if I remember,” Doug continued.
“I used to, sir,” Adam answered.
Brooke looked between them, uncertainty making her frown. Where was her father going with this?
“If you’re going to be here through the holidays, I could offer you some work as a ranch hand. I’ve been thinkin’ about pullin’ back some, maybe even be what they call semiretired.” He grinned at Sandy, who looked surprised but not displeased.
Brooke shouldn’t be surprised that her dad was pulling back from his ranch duties to concentrate on her mom. Nate was in charge of the business side of the ranch and their investments, and she and Josh handled the day-to-day ranch operations. But semiretirement? She was bemused that he hadn’t brought it up before now.
Her brothers each had their work passions—Nate for the business, Josh for his leather tooling. Hell, he’d begun to sell his products in town. The ranch was her love. She was a cowgirl, a barrel-racing champion, a rancher—like her dad. But was that all she was?
Adam exchanged a glance with his hopeful grandma. His face was impassive, and Brooke wondered what emotion he was feeling as he