Man on a Mission (4 page)

He shrugged and smiled. “I'd be glad to get the rest of your stuff from the car. You're staying— I mean, if you want to stay.”

“We can stay?” Brian jumped up from the table and looked at Mark hopefully. “Really and truly?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Mark replied solemnly. “You like horses?”

“Well, sure,” Brian replied. “But I don't know much about them. But I could learn,” he hurriedly added. “Maybe you could hire me to help in the stables. You don't have to pay me a lot, just some so I can help Mom.”

His eagerness caused an ache in April's heart. Her little boy, trying so hard to be a man. He should be spending his summer vacation playing with friends, listening to music and conquering video games. Instead he was worrying about getting a job and helping take care of living expenses. How had their world gotten so topsy-turvy?

“Brian, let's take things one step at a time,” April warned. As much as she'd love to take this handsome cowboy at his word, she had a feeling his word probably didn't carry much weight and it was Matthew Delaney who would make the decision about whether they remained here.

“Brian, if you're finished eating, it's time for a shower,” April said.

He started to balk. April knew the idea of a shower to her son was as abhorrent as kissing a girl. But, having just asked Mark about a job, Brian apparently thought a temper tantrum might not be in his best interest. He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Where's his dad?” Mark asked.

“Gone.” The word fell flatly from her.

“Like mine.”

She nodded, although it wasn't quite the same. Derrick wasn't dead. He was someplace alive and kick
ing, never staying in one place long enough for creditors to find him. “You mentioned a family meeting. Besides Matthew do you have other brothers and sisters?”

Mark nodded. “Luke. He's a mess. That's what Matthew says.”

April laughed, finding his candor refreshing. “Matthew, Mark and Luke,” she said.

“And Johnna, my sister.”

“Your father was a religious man, I take it.”

“My aunt Clara says he was a religious man only on Sundays.” Mark grinned as she laughed once more. “You sound nice when you laugh.”

“Thank you.” April was surprised to feel a warm blush creep over her features. She stood, vaguely uncomfortable with the feelings he evoked in her…feelings she'd believed long dead.

“I'll put the leftovers in the basket, and you can take them back with you,” she said, busying herself with clearing the table.

“Just keep them.” He joined her near the table. “You didn't have a piece of cake.”

“No,” she agreed.

“You don't like chocolate?” He gazed at her with studied intensity and April found her breath catching in her chest. He looked at her with the eyes of a man who knew what he wanted…and might just want her.

She broke the gaze, heat swirling inside her. “I love chocolate.”

“Good, then let's have a piece of cake.” His big capable hand swallowed hers as he grabbed it and pulled her into a chair at the table. He released her
hand and gestured toward the cake in the center of the table.

Suddenly a piece of cake sounded good.

“Lucinda is the best baker in the entire world,” he said as she cut them each a piece.

“Lucinda?”

“She's our cook. She's sort of taken care of us since we were all little.” He took a bite of his cake. “Where did you live before you came here?”

She mentally shifted gears in order to keep up with his ever-changing topics of conversation. “We're from Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

“Did you know my father?” he asked.

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't. Although my father knew him.” April shoved the last of her cake aside; as always, thoughts of her father filled her with incredible ambiguity.

She'd loved her father with all her heart, but the man she'd always believed would protect her and love her had ultimately betrayed her as badly as her husband had.

“I've made you sad.” Mark's gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked at him, surprised by his sharp sensitivity and the empathy that radiated from his eyes.

“No,” she protested. “You haven't made me sad.” She sighed. “Lately life has made me sad.”

“How come?” His big, broad hand moved to cover hers, its warmth as intense as the midday Inferno sun. Again April felt as if she couldn't get enough air, as if somehow his touch displaced the oxygen in the room.

She wanted to tell him never mind, but his soft
gaze held hers, and a slight pressure from his hand over hers encouraged the words to fall from her.

As nice as his hand felt covering hers, she pulled hers away and stood. Someplace in the back of her mind, she knew it was crazy to tell this man, this stranger, her life story.

Maybe the fact that she figured he probably wouldn't understand all of it and couldn't really judge her, made it seem overwhelmingly easy to consider baring her soul.

But that didn't explain why his simple touch affected her so. “Let's just say I have a terrible habit of trusting the wrong people,” she finally said, deciding baring one's soul was far overrated.

At that moment, before Mark could make any reply, Brian came out of the bathroom clad in his usual sleeping attire, an oversize T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. “Hey, you guys had cake without me,” he protested.

“You can have yours now,” April replied.

Brian sat down in the chair where April had been and gazed at Mark eagerly. “Do you know how to ride buckin' broncos and throw a lasso?”

Mark grinned, a slow, lazy expression that stirred fire in April's veins. Despite his apparent slightly diminished mental capacity, she found him disturbingly attractive. There was something very sexy in his smile and a knowing glint that sparked in the depths of his eyes. “Sure,” he replied.

“Could you teach me how to ride broncos and throw a lasso?” Brian asked.

“Maybe,” Mark said, then frowned. “Although we
ought to start off with the rope instead of riding a bronco.”

April smiled at him. “I think that's definitely wise.”

“It's wise? Good.” Mark grinned, as if extremely satisfied with himself.

April's heart constricted with compassion. She wondered if Mark had been born slow, or if he'd had an accident as a child.

Her compassion had nothing to do with pity. It was difficult to pity a man who, despite any mental imperfections, exuded such quiet strength, who seemed to fit so well in his own skin and who radiated peace and happiness despite any depth of intelligence he might be lacking. It was impossible to pity a man who looked sexy enough to make her knees weaken.

“Tell me about the horses,” Brian asked, leaning forward eagerly.

As Mark talked about the horses and his responsibilities with them, April leaned against the refrigerator, entranced by the transformation that seemed to occur in him.

He began haltingly, his words and descriptions coming as if through sheer, intense concentration alone. But it was obvious the topic of conversation was one he felt comfortable with, confident about, and that confidence shone from his eyes, filling them with a compelling animation and life that had been heretofore missing.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. April opened it to see Matthew Delaney.

“Good evening,” he greeted her, his gaze instantly
going beyond her to Brian and Mark at the table. “Mark, I wondered where you'd gone to.”

“I'm right here,” Mark replied.

“Yes, I can see that now.” Matthew focused his attention back on April. “It appears that we'll be keeping the ranch open for the time being, so if you're still interested in the position of social director, it's yours.”

April's heart soared. “Yes…oh, yes, I want the job.”

Matthew nodded, his stern features not relaxing at all. “If you'll come to the house tomorrow around noon, we'll go over the terms of your employment and I'll give you all the files from the previous social director.”

“Thank you so much. I promise you won't be sorry,” she exclaimed.

Again he nodded as his gaze sought his brother. “Mark, it's getting late. You need to come back to the house now.”

Mark stood and clapped Brian on the back. “If you want to start work, be at the stables at seven in the morning.”

“Cool!” Brian exclaimed. “I'll be there.”

Mark stepped out onto the porch with his brother, then smiled at April, that warm smile that forged a path straight to her heart. “I'll see you tomorrow, April.”

She nodded. “Good night, Mark.”

She remained on the porch and watched the two brothers walking away. They were like bookends, equal in height and breadth of shoulder, but she found
nothing particularly pleasing or attractive about Matthew Delaney.

With a sigh she turned and went back into the small cottage. Minutes later she tucked Brian into bed. It had been a long day, most of it spent in the confines of the car, and although it was relatively early, his eyelids drooped with sleepiness.

“Don't forget to wake me up early,” Brian said. “I've got to be in the stables by seven.”

“Don't worry, I'll get you up in time,” she assured him. She stroked a strand of his dark hair off his forehead, as always marveling how much the child looked like his father. It was as if Brian had been cloned from Derrick's rib and had nothing of her physical characteristics.

There were times in the dark of night when April's biggest fear was that her son would grow up to be just like Derrick—a weak man without character, without good values. The only two men who had been a part of Brian's life, who had any profound influence, had been sad, weak imitations of men.

“Mom? Something's wrong with Mark, isn't it?” Brian eyed her sleepily.

“Yes, honey. I think maybe something is wrong. I think maybe he's just a little slow.”

“But he's not stupid,” Brian replied.

“No, I don't think he's stupid.”

“It's okay if I like him, isn't it?”

April smiled at her son. “Yes, it's okay that you like him.”

“Good.” Brian closed his eyes and within moments was fast asleep.

April remained seated on the edge of the bed,
watching her son sleep. For the past two months, since her own father's death, Brian had been unruly, difficult and possessing a simmering anger that had April at her wit's end. But from the moment he'd learned they were staying here, and while he'd been interacting with Mark, he'd transformed back to the child of her heart, with smiles and good humor.

April left the bedroom and closed the door behind her, her thoughts filled with Mark Delaney. Certainly April wasn't looking for an intimate relationship with any man, but friendship would be nice, especially for Brian's sake.

As she went into her own bedroom, she realized this was the first time in as long as she could remember that thoughts of tomorrow didn't bring despair, but rather brought hope.

I
t was just before ten when April walked toward the stables in search of Brian. She needed to go into the small town of Inferno and pick up some groceries, since it appeared they were going to stay.

She'd slept better than she had since her father's death. No dreams had haunted her, no worries had kept sleep at bay. She'd awakened at dawn, feeling for the first time in a long time that she was ready to take on her future.

Already the sun was intense, heating her shoulders and the back of her neck where she'd pulled her hair into a ponytail and exposed pale, untanned skin. She tried to imagine what the heat would be like in July or August, but found it impossible to envision.

Brian wasn't in the stables, so April decided to try the barn. The structure rose before her but there was no sign of Brian anywhere around the outside. She
opened the large, double door and stepped into the interior, where she was instantly greeted by the scent of dust, grain, hay and leather.

Although she didn't immediately see Brian, she heard the murmur of voices in the distance. She followed the voices to a small tack room where Brian and Mark were working side by side. They had their backs to her, and for a moment she merely watched, not alerting them to her presence.

Brian was oiling a saddle, and Mark was watching him. “Make sure you're getting it into all the cracks,” Mark said.

“Like this?” Brian asked.

Mark watched a moment. “Perfect,” he replied, then patted Brian's back. “You're doing a great job.” Brian appeared to grow taller beneath Mark's praise.

April's heart expanded with love for her son and gratitude for the man who was taking time with him. Brian had such a hunger inside him, a hunger for male companionship, a hunger that radiated from his eyes and made April feel helplessly inadequate.

“Hi,” she said.

They both spun around at the sound of April's voice.

“Hi, Mom.” Brian's smile was huge, and April tried to remember when she'd seen him look so genuinely happy. It had been a long time…too long. Especially since his grandfather's death, Brian had been a powder keg of emotions, sometimes exploding in a burst of anger or simply simmering in sullen silence. It was good to see his eyes sparkling with pleasure for a change.

“Hi, April.” Mark swept his hat off his head.
“We're just oiling down some tack.” His smile warmed her as effectively as the sun outside. Why was she so drawn to this man, she wondered.

She walked over and placed a hand on Brian's shoulder. “I was wondering if I could borrow this cowboy for an hour or so. I've got to get into town and get some supplies.”

“Okay,” Mark agreed easily. He set his hat on a workbench and picked up a towel and wiped his hands. “Mind if I join you?”

April looked at him in surprise, unsure how to reply. “I…well, sure…if it's all right.”

“All right?” He gazed at her blankly.

“All right with your brother.” April felt the warmth of a blush steal over her cheeks. It seemed odd telling a grown man he'd better check with his brother before going into town. But she knew Mark was no ordinary grown man.

“It's all right,” he assured her. He handed Brian the towel.

“Then, let's go,” Brian said enthusiastically.

Although April was not particularly comforted by Mark's reassurance that it would be fine if he went along, she didn't know how to gracefully ask him to check with his older brother.

She didn't know many cowboys, but she suspected they were a breed of men with a tall share of pride. The last thing she wanted to do was wound Mark's pride. “Okay, let's go.”

As they walked from the barn to the car, April shot him a surreptitious glance. He looked like a poster image for the Old West with his hat riding low on
his forehead and shadowing his features and his worn jeans hugging the length of his long legs.

April tore her gaze from the handsome cowboy and instead focused on her son, who was chattering about all the things he'd learned that morning. “Did you know a horse will eat oats and grain until it gets sick? Mark says they don't have sense enough to stop once they start.”

April smiled. “I thought only eleven-year-old boys did that.”

“Ah, Mom,” Brian said with a giggle. He got into the back seat, leaving the front passenger seat for Mark.

Moments later April was driving toward the small town of Inferno, trying to ignore the pleasant scent that wafted from the man next to her. He smelled like the sun, mingled with minty soap and the whisper of an earthy cologne.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, April searching for some topic of pleasant conversation.

“Mom, why don't you turn on the radio?” Brian asked, as if the silence bothered him.

“Won't do you much good,” Mark replied. “Inferno only picks up one signal, and it's a local channel owned by old man Butterfield.”

“What kind of music do they play?” Brian asked.

“Not much. About the only time the station has music is when Butterfield lets his wife or his daughter sing.” A charming, slightly mischievous smile lit Mark's features. “They're nice people, but when they sing, one sounds like a cow giving birth and the other sounds like a baby calf bawling for its mama.”

April laughed, and Brian giggled. “I think maybe we'll skip the radio,” April said.

“Besides, if the radio is playing, it's harder to talk,” Mark observed.

“What do you want to talk about?” Brian asked. He leaned forward, half hanging over the front seat.

“Why don't we talk about car safety?” April suggested. “Sit back and buckle up.”

“Ah, Mom, I'm not a baby,” Brian protested.

“A cowboy never rides in a car without buckling in,” Mark replied sternly.

To April's astonishment Brian sat back and buckled up. April flashed Mark a grateful smile. “Tell me more about cowboys,” Brian said eagerly.

Mark turned slightly in his seat, so he was facing April and able to gaze at Brian in the back. He flashed an easy grin. “What do you want to know about them?”

“I want to know everything about them, 'cause I want to be one,” Brian exclaimed fervently.

“Cowboys are men who live by a code of honor.”

“A code of honor?” Brian's voice held a touch of awe. “What's that mean?”

“It means you mind your mama, you take care of your horse and you never lose your hat.”

“I don't even have a hat,” Brian said mournfully.

“We'll get you one after payday, Brian,” April promised, grateful he'd mentioned the lack of a hat and not the omission of a horse in his life. She could probably swing a cowboy hat out of her first paycheck, but a horse would be impossible.

Within minutes they'd arrived in the small town of Inferno. Built on a square, the little town didn't ap
pear to even try to compete with the impressive courthouse at its center. With its wide concrete walkway and four stories of steel and glass, the courthouse looked as incongruous as a magnolia blooming in the middle of the sand.

The rest of the buildings that comprised the town of Inferno were one-story, earth-tone adobe and stucco that gave the impression of longevity and a peaceful coexistence with the desert that surrounded them.

“You can park there.” Mark pointed to an empty space in front of a grocery store.

April pulled into the parking space and shut off the engine. “What a charming little town,” she said as the three of them got out of the car.

“Come on. Before you buy groceries, I'll show you all my favorite stores,” Mark said as he clapped his hat back on top of his head.

As the three of them started down the sidewalk, April looked around with interest. Would this little town eventually feel like home? Could she and Brian find happiness here?

“There's the diner,” Mark said, pointing a finger at the storefront with two potted cacti like sentries guarding the door. “They have good apple pie, but don't eat the meat loaf surprise. It's awful.”

April laughed. “Meat loaf isn't particularly a favorite of mine, anyway.”

She was overly conscious of his nearness, of the scent of him wrapping around her as he walked close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

“Wow, look!” Brian pointed to a store up ahead,
where the window display consisted of a half-dozen ornate saddles and matching bridles.

“That's the tack shop and next to it is the post office,” Mark said.

As he pointed out various places of interest, it was easy for April to forget that he was mentally impaired. He exuded an enthusiasm that was contagious and a candor that was refreshing.

He'd be easy to spend time with, she thought. A good companion who held no threat either emotionally or financially. A friend. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a friend, and the concept of Mark filling that space in her life warmed her. Perhaps warmed her a tad too much, she thought ruefully.

They stopped when they had gone completely around the square and were back to where April's car was parked.

“I've got stuff to do at some other stores,” Mark said. “I'll just meet you back here in a few minutes.”

April watched helplessly as he ambled down the sidewalk away from her and Brian. He walked with a masculine grace and for a moment April was completely engrossed in watching the slight sway of his slender hips and the awesome width of his shoulders.

She hoped she hadn't made a mistake in letting him go off on his own. She'd hate to have to go back to the ranch and tell Matthew Delaney that she'd lost his brother.

“Mom?” Brian stared at her impatiently. “Are we going food shopping or what?”

“Yes, we're going food shopping,” she said. As she and Brian entered the small grocery store, she
shoved her concerns about Mark aside. She had more important concerns—like how to buy the maximum amount of food with a minimum amount of cash.

 

Mark had discovered that an eleven-year-old boy could be a veritable font of information. Through Brian's early-morning chatter, Mark had learned that April was almost thirty years old, her favorite color was turquoise and sometimes at night she cried when she thought Brian couldn't hear her.

When Rachel had left Mark three years ago and married Samuel Rogers from the ranch nearest the Delaney place, Mark had sworn that he'd never get involved with any woman again.

Rachel had taken his heart, then twisted and mashed it when she'd told him she'd never believed any of the Delaney men would make good husbands or fathers. A month before their wedding date, she'd broken off the relationship and had left Mark bloody and defeated in the arena of romance.

Deep down he knew Rachel had been right in her assessment of him. None of the Delaney men was a good husband or father prospect. Even Johnna hadn't managed to find a relationship that worked for her.

When she'd been eighteen, she'd dated the bad boy of town, Jerrod McCain, but Jerrod had disappeared from her life before her miscarriage, and as far as Mark knew, Johnna had never allowed anyone close to her again.

Matthew had always been too obsessed with the ranch to sustain any relationships, and Luke played at love, enjoying his image as a wild, untamed rake.

The Delaneys were definitely stunted in their abil
ity to maintain any kind of relationship with the opposite sex. Unsurprising, considering they didn't even have good relationships with each other.

No, Mark didn't want a romance with April. He recognized his own inability, the inadequacies in himself that made him a bad candidate for romance. But that didn't mean his fingers didn't itch to touch the gold of April's hair, and he had to confess the scent of her stirred him like no woman had in a very long time.

He walked into the Western clothing store, the small cowbell over the door announcing to the owner that somebody had entered the premises.

“Mark,” John Shaffer, the owner of Western Wear, greeted him with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. His grizzled brow wrinkled in concern as he pumped Mark's hand. “How you feeling? I haven't seen you since your accident.”

“I'm okay.”

John's hand was warm around Mark's. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man, Mark.”

Mark nodded, surprised that the kind words about his father brought a lump to his throat. “Matthew says I need some new jeans.” Mark forced himself to smile the empty expression that he'd perfected over the past several weeks.

John released his hand. “Oh, sure. We can get you set up with a new pair of jeans.”

Mark didn't miss the look of pity that flashed momentarily across John's features. Pity. That was the worst part of his subterfuge. The pity he saw on good
people's faces, and the smirking derision he saw on not-so-good people's faces.

At least he had yet to see pity on April's face. He'd seen curiosity, bewilderment and interest, but thankfully not pity.

It took only minutes for Mark to get the jeans and charge them to the Delaney account. As he was leaving the store, his attention was captured by the hat display. The wall section held hats of various sizes and styles, including one just like Mark's, only sized to fit a boy's head.

It's not my job to buy that boy a hat, Mark told himself as he moved closer to the display. That kid is nothing to me but a part-time helper in the stables.

He already regretted the impulse that had prompted him to be friendly to April and Brian. He had no time for any kind of relationships, and Rachel had made it quite clear he wasn't very good at them. He needed to back away from April and her son. He was pretending to be something he was not, and there was no guarantee they were going to manage to keep the ranch, no guarantee that April would be around for long.

Despite his internal protests to the contrary, he walked out of the store with both the jeans and the hat. In the distance he saw April and Brian exiting the grocery store, a cart laden with bags in front of them.