Montana Homecoming

Wow. She’d been beautiful in the starlight, but in the full day words failed him. Stunned, frozen, his jaw slack—did he look like a dolt?

Good thing he wasn’t interested. Nope, not one bit. Her beauty bounced off him like rain on a roof. He remained unaffected.

“I hardly recognize you without your dog.” Brooke didn’t meet his gaze. “How is Oscar?”

“After making good on all your cookie promises, I sent him straight to bed with a new rawhide bone.” He seized the grips of Lil’s wheelchair, deciding to be useful.

“I’m glad to see you’re handling him properly.” She hiked the strap of her leather bag higher on her slim shoulder. She wore dress slacks and a solemn blouse and sweater, adding to her seriousness. What did he like about her most?

That was easy. She clearly gave him a “not interested” vibe. Not one thing about her hinted she might be open to further conversation with him. Not with the way she turned away, keeping her back to him.

This was a woman he could like. They were on the same wavelength.

“Come along, Lil.” She ambled ahead, her tone softening with affection as she addressed the older woman. “Let’s get you settled before the courtroom gets too busy.”

“That would be easiest,” Lil agreed cheerfully, tipping her head back to look up at him. A knowing grin made her sparkle. Multiple sclerosis might have put her in a wheelchair, but it hadn’t slowed her down. “Do you know what you need, Liam?”

“I’m afraid to answer that question.” He wasn’t the dimmest bulb in the pack and he figured Brooke wasn’t, either. The tap-tap of her heels could only be an attempt to escape Lil. Not that he blamed her. He gave the wheelchair a good shove to get it going. “What do I need? Maybe a haircut? A new attitude? A—”

“A dog trainer.” Lil smiled as Brooke held the heavy courthouse door.

A dog trainer? He didn’t see where she was going with this. A tiny zing at the back of his mind told him to be wary—there was something familiar but he couldn’t place it. Mainly because all he could see was Brooke in full sunlight. Her ivory complexion, her chiseled, fine-boned features and her full, rosebud mouth. Why couldn’t he look away?

“Don’t do it, Lil.” Brooke rolled her eyes as a breeze of wind rustled the ends of her dark hair. “Don’t condemn me to that.”

“To what?” Then it hit him. He remembered her gentle touch, how the Lab had taken to her, that she had been the one to catch the runaway. So, the pieces were all starting to fit. He guided the wheelchair into the busy lobby.

“You need help with that dog, young man.” Lil glimmered like a rare gem. “Brooke, you’ve trained how many dogs?”

“Not many,” Brooke hedged as she fell in line behind him at the security checkpoint. “Hardly any at all.”

“She’s modest.” Lil’s words held a mother’s love. “She grew up on a farm outside Miles City. She’s been around animals all her life. 4-H, all the good stuff. She won more blue ribbons than a body can count for her animals at the county and state fairs. She trained all the family’s herding dogs. I think she would be able to handle one mischievous yellow Lab.”

“Please, Lil. Stop.” She rolled her eyes. “That was a long time ago. I’m sure if Liam wants to find a dog trainer, then he’s more than capable of finding one on his own.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” His stunning blue eyes met hers and held, full of trouble and a glint of quiet humor. He did not look like a man upset by Lil’s meddling. The woman was clearly trying to match her up with Mr. Handsome. “I do have a dog in need of training. I don’t know where to start. Some folks would hire a trainer in this exact situation.”

“There are plenty of good obedience schools in the area, I’m sure.”

“But Brooke, honey, I thought you could use the work.” Lil’s caring was hard to turn down.

“Oh.” She felt foolish. Lil had been trying to help with her precarious financial position.

“Look, there’s Colbie.” Pleased, Lil clasped her hands together. “Did you find a parking spot close in, dear?”

“Would I be out of breath if I had?” Colbie laughed raggedly as she broke away from security. She seemed to bring the sunshine with her. “Liam, thanks for piloting Lil, but I’ll take over.”

“I don’t know. You know I’m sweet on Lil. I might have to keep her.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to fight me for her.” With a wink, Colbie wrapped her hands around the grips and gave the wheelchair a practiced shove toward courtroom five. “Are you ready, copilot?”

“I’m ready, captain.” Lil’s amusement lingered after she and Colbie headed down the busy corridor.

Leaving her and Liam alone.

Maybe she hadn’t been completely wrong about Lil’s motives. She squinted at the man beside her. Tall, thick dark hair, granite face, rugged features, handsome enough to give most women in a five-mile radius butterflies.

Not her, but most women.

“Looks like they don’t need a navigator.” What was she going to do about Liam? And what exactly were the chances of running into him two days in a row? “What you are doing at the courthouse? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re here for a trial.”

“You mean a trial of my own?”

“Sure. You don’t strike me as a thief, but I’ve learned you can’t judge a book by its cover.” She tried to keep her tone light, easygoing, just making conversation as she walked down the corridor. But the truth? She felt the pain of her past and the walls closing in. The courthouse brought back too many memories. “You never know what’s inside.”

“Funny. With me, what you see is what you get.” He winked at her, shortening his gait to match hers. “Well, most of the time. I don’t have secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets.” Secrets. Her secrets whispered until the past was all she could see. “You’re being evasive.”

“Me? I’m not the evasive sort.” That grin of his could make a girl’s neurons fail completely.

Fortunately not hers. She was immune to a man’s charm, thanks to her last boyfriend, Darren. “Then why are you at the courthouse early on a Monday morning?”

“I’m not a thief and, no, I’m not a lawyer. Although if I’d chosen differently, I might have been one. Both of my parents are, they’re off in L.A., and that’s what they expected me to be. A summer volunteering in Ecuador changed that.”

“You volunteered?” She raised one eyebrow. This man with his magazine-cover polish, perfect black suit and patterned tie? With a briefcase clutched in one hand? “Wait, don’t tell me. Probation?”

“Funny.” His chuckle was as warm as she might have expected. “I volunteered as part of my church’s youth group. We stayed in a village that had no electricity or running water. We worked to put in a water system and irrigation for crops. I liked it so much I volunteered every summer until I was out of college. Because I had to work for a living, I decided to stick closer to home with my volunteer efforts.”

“I’m not impressed.” Fine, maybe a little. But she didn’t have to admit that out loud.

“Didn’t expect you to be.” Dimples played at the corners of his smile. “Let me guess. You’ve done a lot of volunteering, too. Animal shelters?”

“Yes. Good guess.” She hesitated, not knowing how to explain. She felt akin to those animals forgotten in cages. She’d lost so much of her life after Darren’s betrayal and her trial, and she’d lost herself, too. Helping in the city shelter gave her the chance to make a difference and to work with animals, something she’d always wanted to do with her life. “I put in a lot of time at the shelter close to where I lived. I was there so often, I knew every animal by name.”

“Busy? That on top of a job has to keep you hoppin’.”

His voice dipped low, interested.

“At times.” Uncomfortable, she shrugged. She didn’t try to explain. A man like him, so polished and confident, would never understand. What did he see when he looked at her? She gave her thrif-store sweater a tug. “I like to keep busy.”

“Busy is good,” he agreed.

She risked another sideways glance at him. Strong profile, thick dark hair, a straight nose, square-cut chin, a man who radiated a quiet integrity that anyone would believe in. But did she?

“Volunteering keeps me out of trouble.”

“Oh, sure. Me, too.”

“You volunteer still?”

“Guilty. I can’t help myself.”

They shared a smile. She could read in his eyes the truth, the same truth she couldn’t say aloud. There was true need in this world. She’d never been able to turn her back on it. Neither could he.

“See?” His smile deepened, making his dimples irresistible. “We’re more alike than you first thought. We stand on common ground.”

“Maybe a tile or two,” she quipped, feeling uneasy again because the lights in his blue irises shone genuinely, with no falseness.

Everyone hid things, she reminded herself before she could start to believe him. Everyone had places within them they kept secret. Buried disappointments, shortcomings, failures. She swallowed hard, looking at the yawning doors, fighting the trace of panic setting in.

She hadn’t been in a courthouse since her trial. This was a different place, but the sounds were the same. The buzz of conversation echoing in the corridor, the tap of her shoes on the cold white tile, the cavernous seriousness that wrapped around her like a tomb. Trying not to remember, she played with the hem of one sweater sleeve, seeing in her mind the judge’s bench, the witness box and the empty chairs for the jury. She blinked hard until the memory faded.

“Brooke McKaslin? Is that you?” An aggressive woman tore through the crowd. A brown, curly cap of hair, assessing eyes and a cat’s grin locked on her. “Tasha Brown with Action News. Tell me, how does it feel to step foot in this courtroom?”

A reporter. Shock rocked her back on her heels. She hadn’t prepared for this. She despised reporters, always digging up dirt and thriving on it. Why did someone have to unearth it now? It happened so long ago. The shame of the past struck her hard. She gasped, fisted her hands, lost sight of the doorway. Her vision blurred.

“No comment.” The words squeaked out of her, full of pain. But did the reporter stop?

No. The woman jabbed her handheld recorder closer. “Your family isn’t any stranger to courthouses. First your father—”

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, unable to see a way out. People surrounded her in every direction, closing in to get to the courtroom. Panic raced through her veins. She couldn’t breathe. There just wasn’t any air. And how could she escape? She was trapped by people everywhere.

A steady hand clasped around her elbow. Liam. Strong but gentle. The comfort of his touch reminded her she wasn’t alone.

Over the whir of panic she heard the resonate rumble of his voice, keeping the reporters at bay. He tugged her close to the wall and blocked her with his body.

“Thank you.” She drew in a ragged breath, feeling a little foolish. She definitely felt wrung out.

“No problem,” he answered kindly. “I—”

“There you are!” Colbie burst into sight like a fish swimming against the current, weaving around people filing into the chamber. Her violet eyes shone with caring. “Court is about to start. C’mon.”

Brooke felt her sister’s unspoken sympathy wrap around her like a hug. Colbie understood. Colbie who had so faithfully written letters all those years when Brooke had been away, cut off from life, behind barred doors and windowless walls.

Lord, help me to do this. She gathered all the strength she had. She could walk into that courtroom, sit beside her sisters and ignore the reporters. She was strong and tough. Not once would she remember being perched in her chair beside a defense attorney with her world in tatters. Colbie’s hand slipped around hers as Liam let go.

She turned to him at a loss, unsure what to say. He’d witnessed her panic attack, the remnants of which were still quaking through her. But did he ask questions? No. Kindness softened his deep eyes and made him amazing.

Just amazing.

With Colbie’s hand in hers, she set her chin, squared her shoulders and walked into the courtroom as if the past had no claim on her.

* * *

At times his fellow colleagues miffed him, and it burned through the morning session. Liam sat in the back where he could watch the entire courtroom, not that there was much going on other than opening arguments and preliminaries. He was on assignment, so he was interested in the case but he had a hard time concentrating. He could still hear Brooke’s gasp of pain at Tasha Brown’s question. Interrogating family members outside the courtroom. He clenched his jaw, hands fisting.

Fine, so he felt protective of Brooke. He would respond the same way toward anyone in a similar situation. And if a little voice in the back of his head wanted to argue, he simply ignored it.

She hadn’t glanced his way once all morning. He had a perfect view of her, seated with her family down front. They nestled together in an unbreakable circle around Brianna. Brooke’s sleek dark hair glinted in the lights, and he remembered the feel of her arm, fine-boned and soft beneath his hand. Asking her for a quote hadn’t even occurred to him. Why had Tasha done it?

The Backdoor Burglars had been big news a while back, before he’d moved back home. Thieves had preyed on restaurants when employees were cleaning up for the night. The robberies escalated until several people were killed and more were injured. He’d been out of the country, but his grandfather Ed Knightly had covered the series of crimes. A real tragedy.

He recognized Juanita’s family, a young woman killed in the robbery, her mother teary-eyed and trying to stay strong.

“Hey, Liam.” Roger, a fellow journalist, interrupted his thoughts. “Want to grab lunch?”

He blinked, realizing the session had adjourned for noon recess. He hadn’t even noticed it. Some reporter he was. He tucked his notes and laptop into his briefcase. “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got to buzz home and check on my dog.”

“You have a dog?” Roger’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with me?” He eased off the bench. “I’m a good dog owner.”

“Yeah, but you are gone a lot. Won’t that be a problem?”

“Why would it? Oscar used to spend his time locked in a cage, and now he has a whole house. Where’s the problem in that?”

He got ahead of the crowd streaming toward the doors, catching one quick glimpse of Brooke. She bent to speak to Lil, dark hair cascading over her shoulder, strain tightening the muscles along her delicate jaw line. The trial was obviously taking a toll on her. It was a lot for a family to go through.

“Hey, maybe there’s no problem. What do I know?” Roger kept pace with him as they broke out into the wide corridor. Noise and people streamed around them. “My mom had a dachshund, and that little wiener dog ate the entire house whenever she left him alone. That’s all I’m saying.”

“The only danger would be if Oscar ever learned how to open the fridge or the pantry doors.” He thought of the ham incident and grinned. That dog was sure livening things up. “See you in an hour.”

“Right. Good luck!”

“I don’t believe in luck.” God had led him to Oscar, God had put the wish for a dog into his heart and God would not abandon him now. Liam headed down the hall, glancing over his shoulder to steal another glimpse of Brooke. The crowd was too big—he couldn’t see her. He stumbled out the door and into the bright May sunshine, fighting the feeling he’d left something important behind.

His cell sang a cheerful note as he started his truck’s engine. One glance at the screen had him grinning. It was a text message from Colbie.

Mom told me about your need for a dog trainer. Brooke is great with dogs, she’d written. Call her, text her, just don’t hire anyone else. Promise?

I don’t need a trainer, he tapped out with his thumbs. His dog was unruly but overall just fine. And on the off chance Colbie was playing matchmaker, he didn’t need that, either. He knew how to hold his ground.

Famous last words, Colbie wrote. I’m sending Brooke’s cell # anyway.

The drive home was quick and uneventful. He lived in an older section of Bozeman where the neighborhoods were tree-lined and straight out of the 1940s with white picket fences, carefully manicured yards and Craftsman-style homes. He parked in front of the detached garage, hopped up the back steps and turned his key in the lock. The ringing bark of welcome put a spring in his step as he swung open the kitchen door.

A golden streak launched toward him, emitting a high-pitched whine of relief. Eighty pounds of Lab hit him in the chest, rocking him back on his feet. Paws settled on his shoulders, his knees gave way and he stumbled as the dog plastered canine kisses across his face.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy. Now, down.” Laughing, he grabbed two paws and lifted them off his suit jacket, wiped his face with his sleeve and pushed through the door.

That’s when he saw the kitchen. Disaster. Air squeaked out of his lungs in shock. He blinked, but the scene remained. Trash littered the tile, the garbage can overturned and empty. One ladder-back chair remained in place at the small nook table, but the other three sprawled on their backs in various places around the room. One was missing a leg.

“You ate part of a chair?” He jammed one hand through his hair, too stunned to do anything more than stare. Cushions had been torn off the chairs and were almost intact with white flashes of stuffing showing. One cupboard door hung askew.

“I can’t believe this.” He shook his head, stunned by the devastation. A mini tornado could not have left as much damage. “Oscar, how could you?”

The Lab whined and sat on his haunches. Doggy brows furrowed sorrowfully. Big chocolate-brown eyes beamed a message that seemed to say, “Forgive me. I was bad.”

“Oh, Oscar.” Liam rubbed the pounding tension settling in behind his left temple. How could he be mad at that face? He could only hope the rest of the house hadn’t suffered the same fate.

Chapter Three

“How are you holding up?” Her big brother Luke leaned in to ask, his voice so low it was difficult to hear him in the bustling sandwich shop.

“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?”