Saving Trace Page 5

  “Oh, that you have tall, dark, and sexy voice sleeping two doors down from you?” She sighed. “And that you played Florence Nightingale to him last night?”

  If Laura had been talking to any of their other cousins, they wouldn’t have gotten the reference to the woman who was the founder of modern nursing. But she was one of Emma’s personal heroes.

  “I’ve been too busy.”

  “Stacking books?” Laura took the book out of Emma’s hands and frowned down at the title. “I haven’t read this one yet.” She tucked it under her arm.

  The bell over the door chimed again, and Emma saw Mallory rush in, much like Laura had just done. She wasn’t going to get any work done with her two best friends in the store asking about Trace, so she set down the book she’d picked up and waited until Mal spotted her.

  “Why didn’t you call—” Mal stopped when Emma held up her hand.

  “Cookies and coffee first.” She motioned towards the counter. “Then I’ll fill you both in at once.” She walked across the store and expertly made each of them their favorite drinks, then pulled out a plate of peanut butter cookies she had been saving for later.

  Emma didn’t know what she would do if either of her friends decided to move out of Fairplay. They were the reason she remained rooted and happy in a town full of somewhat overbearing family and friends.

  “Spill,” Mal said between bites as her friend and cousin waited for her to fill them in on her next project.

  Chapter Seven

  Trace bent his head under the hood and listened to Chase chat behind him while he worked on removing the van’s battery.

  He had known instantly that he’d need a new battery and maybe some spark plugs. He also needed to check and make sure the radiator hadn’t burst.

  The windshield had shattered and was now carpeting the ditch.

  He needed four new tires. The front two were shredded, causing the entire weight of the van to rest on the old rims.

  There were several panels that needed to be replaced, but he didn’t think he could afford it after seeing the rest of the damage. The pieces weren’t necessary, but he’d hate to drive around in the van with exposed parts. Especially the hood, which was a jumbled twisted mess.

  Maybe he could pound the thing out himself.

  “When was the last time she had her oil changed?” Chase glanced over at him. They both had their heads under the twisted hood that he had propped open with a chunk of two by four.

  Trace shrugged in response.

  “Man.” Chase shook his head. “You have to take care of beauties like this. The older they are, the more love they need.”

  The man was talking about the van as if it were alive. Trace had worked on lots of vehicles in the military but had never really enjoyed his work.

  “And you said you were a mechanic in the marines?” Chase said, shaking his head again.

  Trace had walked away from the marines and hadn’t wanted to do anything that reminded him of that time. But now he mentally kicked himself for not taking care of the old van. Of course, he knew how to care for the old van. Since he’d taken off in it, he’d not only neglected the machine, but himself.

  “I was hoping to trade her in, after a while,” he admitted.

  “Well, we should be able to get her back up to speed ourselves. If you want to save the cash. There are a couple junkyards around that might have spare parts.” Chase straightened and wiped his hands on a handkerchief he’d pulled from his back pocket. “You know, if you want some extra cash to help pay for the parts, we really could use the extra hand around here for the next few weeks.”

  Trace had been hoping Rick hadn’t been joking. He doubted the bar would hire him on for the next few weeks or months until he could afford the repairs.

  He’d never been one to turn away handouts, since he owed most of his childhood to caring people after both of his parents pretty much abandoned him.

  “If you think I can help out.”

  Chase took his greasy hand in his. “Son, you’d be helping us out a lot.” The man smiled at him. “Come on, I’ll show you the ranch house.” He reached up and tried to shut the hood of the van, but the thing fell off the hinges completely and landed at their feet.

  When the older man laughed and started walking away, Trace followed him.

  They had towed the van under a small overhang on the side of the barn. It was close to where the guy kept all his tools and was out of the scorching sunlight so he could work on the van whenever he wanted.

  Chase had shown him where everything was in the tool shop, and Trace had taken a moment to admire a few of the horses tucked into stalls in the cool barn.

  Chase waited while Trace ran up and grabbed his duffle bag of things and his guitar from the room he’d slept in last night. He was a little shocked to see his ruined clothes from last night cleaned and folded neatly on the foot of the bed. Tossing them into his bag, he made sure that everything in the room was back in place before heading out.

  It was less than a five-minute ride down a dirt road in the massive dually truck. When they drove past the first small stone houses, which sat along a riverbed, he wondered just how wealthy Emma’s family was.

  By the time Chase parked in front of the largest places, he was beginning to question if he was really helping them out or just a charity case.

  Each stone home was unique with different colored stone walls and metal roofs. Most had large covered porches out front with rocking chairs or swings sitting under ceiling fans. The one next to the one they had stopped in front of had potted flowers everywhere, making it looked more lived in than the others.

  “This is what you call a ranch house?” he asked, looking out the window.

  Chase leaned forward and smiled at the place.

  “Yup. Lived here myself, not that long ago.” The man shook his head. “Okay, more than twenty-five years back, but who’s counting. Remodeled them all myself, as well.” Chase got out of the truck and reached for Trace’s bag. “She’s yours for as long as you need. Otherwise, I would’ve kicked Ricky out here after the first summer brawl.”

  “Summer brawl?” He followed the man up the few steps to the front porch. Trace noticed that the front door was unlocked, just as the door to the main house had been last night.

  “Ricky tends to get on Emma’s nerves. Don’t get them started on the argument about that guitar of Ricky’s.” Chase set Trace’s bag down and walked over to open the blinds on a large window by the front door. Light flooded into the place, showcasing an impressive amount of dust in the air. “Sorry. Guess we haven’t been over here to dust in a while.” He glanced around. “Anyway, there should be plenty of towels and basics. You’ll want to fill the fridge.” He walked over to the kitchen and opened the door, then immediately shut it. “After you clean it out, that is.” He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s been empty since last fall.”

  “Thank you,” he said, stopping the man from looking in the cupboards.

  Chase shook his head quickly. “You really are doing us a solid.” He shut the cupboard door and walked over to him, holding out his hand. “You’ll want to rest up for the rest of the day. You know, recover fully. Come to the house for dinner. It’s served at seven o’clock sharp,” he warned. “If you show up a minute late, you’ll only get scraps,” he joked. “If you need to go into town, you can borrow Betty out front. The key is there.” He motioned to a row of hooks by the front door. “She’s temperamental and older than the hills but runs great.” The man headed for the door. “Jimmy, our old foreman, is next door if you need anything.” He shut the door behind him.

  Trace waited until he heard the truck pull away before getting a good look at the place. The kitchen and living room were one big room together. Here, the furniture was solid and older. He doubted he’d break anything and knew that he would feel more at home here than up at the big house. Even if the place had a layer of dust, he felt relaxed as he walked through it.

  There were
two bedrooms with a decent sized bathroom between them.

  For the next hour, Trace busied himself wiping down the fridge and dusting the place with the bottle of cleaner that had been left under the kitchen sink.

  There were old blue dishes in the cupboards and glasses and silverware. When he felt his stomach growl, he took the keys from the hook and opened the front door.

  Noticing it didn’t even have a lock, he thought about taking his guitar with him into town, until he caught a look at the old truck.

  It was easily the oldest one he’d ever seen. It’s faded blue paint was probably the original painted on it in the sixties. He doubted the thing was going to run, let alone have working locks on the doors.

  Crossing the dirt parking area, he glanced around before he climbed behind the wheel. The house next to his was just a few yards away and looked like someone lived there year-round. There were small flower bushes that lined a rock pathway to the front porch. A garden sat on the side of the building and looked well taken care of.

  Putting the key in the ignition, Trace held his breath as he turned the truck over. He was surprised when the thing purred to life smoothly.

  “Damn,” he said under his breath. Even his van hadn’t purred this well.

  Taking off down the dirt road, he took in everything about the ranch. In the distance, he could see several men on horses moving cattle towards a large newer-looking barn. There were two people on four-wheelers helping out. When he drove by them, they all waved, so he honked and continued past the main house.

  He’d seen Emma take off in a smaller truck that morning and knew she had gone to work at the bookshop. Maybe he would stop in and see her while he was in town. After all, she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a long time. Not that he could really afford to get tangled up right now. Not with only a few hundred to his name.

  Hell, seeing where and what she came from, it was a wonder she didn’t kick him to the curb. He was a rat and she was… a princess. Complete with her very own castle.

  That thought had him refocusing and determined to stick to just a stop at the grocery store to stock up for the next few days.

  Parking the truck in front of the store, he was just getting out when a pretty dark-haired woman about his age stopped him.

  “Who are you?” she asked, shifting a bag of groceries. “Why are you driving Betty?”

  His first instinct was to laugh, but then he remembered what Chase had called the old truck.

  “Are you working for the Wests?” she asked.

  He was slightly taken aback by that question. He was pretty sure that Emma’s last name was Graham.

  “I’m staying and working at Saddleback,” he answered, hoping it would satisfy the woman. Seeing her instantly relax, he started to move past her.

  “I didn’t catch your name?” the woman said, stopping him again.

  “Trace,” he answered automatically.

  “Trace…?” She waited; a dark brow arched up slightly.

  “Butler,” he answered.

  “I’m Maggie Jackson.” She smiled warmly as she held out her hand for his. “I run the local bakery.” She motioned across the street. “Maggie’s.” She smiled with pride.

  He glanced over and noticed the small shop across the street. The cakes and pies in the front window looked so mouth-watering, his stomach rumbled loudly, and Maggie chuckled.

  “Stop on by after you’re done shopping.” She moved a little closer. “I’ll give you a free sample.”

  He swallowed and instantly thought of a pair of green eyes instead of the blue ones flirting with him.

  “Thanks,” he said and backed away.

  “I don’t bite,” she called out playfully.

  “Something tells me that’s not really true,” he called out as he opened the front door. Hearing her laughter had him smiling. Damn. If this town was full of young hot women, how the hell was he ever going to make it out of Fairplay alive?

  After stuffing his cart with the cheapest food that he could find, he loaded up the old truck with the four bags. He decided to avoid the bakery and headed towards the edge of town instead. He didn’t realize he’d driven the wrong way until the bookstore came into view.

  “Shit,” he groaned. He might as well head in and see if he’d imagined that spark between him and Emma.

  When he stepped inside, he instantly wished he could back out when three pairs of eyes, including the green ones he’d been daydreaming about, turned on him. Seeing the spark in her eyes, he knew it was too late.

  “Come on in, Trace,” Emma called out. “How about a cup of coffee and a cookie?”

  Again, his stomach growled loudly. As he moved towards the bar that Emma was standing behind, the other two women who were sitting on stools watched him.

  “This is my cousin Laura and my bestie Mal. Mal’s parents own this place,” Emma said motioning around. “Black?” she asked, reaching for a cup for coffee.

  “Sure.” He nodded. “I wouldn’t mind a fancy one though.” He motioned to the espresso machine. It had been far too long since he’d tasted the sweet nectar of life. He didn’t have the luxury to, but figured he’d splurge.

  “Are these cookies peanut butter?” he asked as one of the other ladies pushed a plate of cookies his way.

  “Yes. Oh god, are you allergic?” the redhead asked, reaching for the plate again.

  “No.” He chuckled. “Just my favorite.” He took a cookie.

  “Have the rest then,” she replied with a smile. “We’ve each had three.” She groaned. “I’ll be stuck on my stair climber for an hour tonight.”

  “Shut up,” the blonde replied playfully. “There isn’t an ounce of fat on your entire body.” She turned her attention to him and held out her hand. “I’m Laura, the cousin, since Em didn’t really point when introducing us. This is Mal. I caught your show last night.” She giggled. “Not the flying acrobatics you did with your van, but the one at the Rusty Rail.”

  “It’s a small town,” Emma said as she set a cup in front of him. There was an intricate decoration in the liquid that had him doing a double take.

  “Are these…”

  “Pandas,” Emma answered with a smile. “I’m still working on them.” She leaned closer to him and looked at his cup. “I think the top one looks more like a polar bear than a panda.” She frowned down at his mug.

  “Wow,” he answered. “Impressive.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at him and the moment their eyes locked he felt that spark zip between them. Nope, not his imagination after all.

  Yeah, getting out of Fairplay unscathed was going to be hell.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma closed the bookstore ten minutes later than normal, due to half the town coming in and demanding to hear the story of Trace’s accident firsthand. Then it had taken her twice as long as usual to clean up after everyone. But she had to admit, having gossip to spread was good for business.

  Heading to her truck, she heard the loud laughter of a Monday game night at the Rail and decided for a quick detour. Especially, since she’d come up with a brilliant idea halfway through the workday.

  She had less than an hour to get home before dinner and figured a chat with Sophia, the new manager at the Rusty Rail, couldn’t hurt. By the time she parked next to her dad’s truck forty minutes later, she was so excited she was about to burst.

  She rushed in the back door, sending the dogs off on a happy barking fit. By the time they settled down, she was laughing so hard that she’d almost forgotten the exciting news she had.

  “Mom? Dad?” she called out, frowning at the empty kitchen table they normally ate at. The smell of food hit her, and she moved into the living area.

  “We’re in here, sweetie,” her mother called from somewhere inside the house.

  She found everyone, including Trace, in the formal dining room. The room was only used for holidays and special occasions. The table was set with her mother’s fanciest china. There was a larg
e pile of steaks steaming on a platter next to several bowls of baked potatoes, rolls, and veggies.

  One of the benefits of running a cattle farm was that there was never a shortage of beef in the house. The two large freezers that sat in the laundry room off the side of the house were usually stocked to the brim. Most years they slaughtered one cow for their personal use, and one cow for each of the families that worked the ranch.

  “What’s all this?” she asked as she moved into the room.

  “Wash up, then we can eat,” her mother said without answering.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she moved back into the kitchen and washed the dog slobber from her hands. When she returned to the dining room, she noticed the empty chair next to Trace’s.

  Sitting down, she glanced around. “Why are we going fancy tonight?” she asked.

  Her mother’s and father’s eyes moved over to Rick’s.

  “I got the job in Tyler,” Rick said quickly. She could hear the excitement and worry in her brother’s voice.

  Emma’s heart sank suddenly. “Tyler?” She frowned. Tyler was the closest big city, if you could call it that, but it was over two hours away.

  Rick had applied for a lead vet position in a small clinic a few weeks after he’d returned home from school. Emma knew it was hard on her brother to be under their dad’s wing around the office. Fairplay wasn’t a big enough town that it needed two full-time vets.

  Still, the thought of her brother going away again pained her. He’d been gone for a few years for school while she’d remained at home and done all her college classes online. Her choice, but she’d missed Rick.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, trying to add excitement in her voice. But seeing the concern behind her brother’s eyes, she knew she hadn’t fooled him. “When do you start?” she asked, reaching for a roll.

  “Next week,” Rick answered.

  Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Where will you live? That’s short notice to get an apartment…”