A Town Called Valentine(28)

Emily gaped at her. “I was playing soccer at fourteen—and even that seemed too complicated. Wow.”

“It’s not that impressive around here,” Brooke said with a shrug. “You smell like cow shit a lot. We were thigh deep in muddy irrigation ditches today, and I’ll be heading back there after lunch.”

“I bet Nate was there,” Monica said, using her carrots to scoop up a creamy dip even as she eyed Emily.

Emily ignored her.

“We all work the ranch together. My mom takes care of the books and keeping everyone fed. My dad and my two brothers work outside with me.” As they divided up the apple tarts, Brooke turned to Monica. “I saw your sister on TV last night.”

Emily glanced in surprise at Monica, who frowned.

“Oh, she likes being famous,” Monica answered flippantly.

“She’s a journalist at CNN,” Brooke explained. “She’s often out of the country covering whatever big disaster or battle is hot.”

“She likes the big-city life,” Monica said at last. “And I don’t. Kind of strange, for twins.”

“Twins?”

“Fraternal. We don’t look alike.”

“Sure you do,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “Like sisters, anyway. Okay, so Missy knows how to glam herself up.”

“Melissa,” Monica countered. “Let’s not forget that ‘Missy’ doesn’t sound professional. Doesn’t matter that’s what we all called her.”

“I’m sorry you and your sister aren’t getting along,” Emily said.

Monica smiled. “Thanks. You’re sweet. We used to. I never thought anything would separate us. We went off to college together, and afterward, she chose the big city, and I moved back home. Over the years, we seem to have . . . lost our connection.”

“I can’t believe that. You’re sisters.”

“Hey, you never know,” Brooke said, using her finger to swipe another crumb from the container. “I always thought my brothers got along great, but lately, I’ve sensed . . . I don’t know, tension or something.”

“Not Josh and Nate,” Monica said dismissively. “So they had an argument.”

Brooke shrugged, her eyes focused far away. So Fantasy Cowboy had some human weaknesses after all, Emily thought. It was a lot easier to hear about other people’s family problems than consider her own.

Nate knew he shouldn’t go anywhere near Emily’s building, but Valentine Valley was a small town, and on his way to the feed store, he ended up driving his pickup past her block. He glanced down the alley—being cautious, he told himself—and saw Emily dragging a huge stuffed chair a couple inches at a time toward the Dumpster. Once again, he got that immediate sensation of awareness and interest and concern that didn’t bode well.

He took the next corner and came to a stop. He shouldn’t have driven that way. She was pretty upset that he was doing her “favors,” and he knew he should stop, knowing what happened when he got involved. But the chair looked heavy.

He pulled into the alley. Emily straightened and frowned. Her jeans and t-shirt had some dirt stains, and that strawberry blond hair of hers was falling down the back of her neck. Damn, but she looks good. He got out of the truck.

She put her hands on her hips. “This can’t be a coincidence. Didn’t I just see you this morning?”

“I’m on my way to the feed store. What am I supposed to do when I see a woman in distress? My mom would beat me if I didn’t stop. Now move aside.”

He brushed past her, and she seemed to quickly get out of his way. She was being smarter than he was. He hefted the chair off the ground and walked the final twenty yards to the Dumpster. She raced ahead of him to open the lid, and he got to watch her jeans-clad butt as she stood on tiptoes to reach the top.

He tossed in the chair.

Wide-eyed, she said, “Okay, that was impressive.”

“That couldn’t have been a compliment. After all, I was rescuing you again.”

“So your mama raised you right. Thank you for your help.”

As she walked by him, she stole a glance at him that he couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t angry or defensive or affronted. So what was it?

He found himself walking beside her. “Did you get your lunch?”

She snorted, and he was surprised she wasn’t too ladylike for it.

“Do you doubt your sister?”