Remember Me, Cowboy. C.J. CarmichaelЧитать онлайн книгу.
fill that role more than they did right now. And never had he felt less like doing it.
Corb looked at the coffee and the bun he was holding. He ought to gobble it down and head over to Ed’s Feed Supply, where he knew Jackson was picking up that alfalfa mix for the new palomino his mother had bought three months ago.
She’d actually bought the horse for Cassidy, though she’d never admit it. As if a new horse—even a great horse—would lure his sister back to Coffee Creek.
No, like B.J., Cassidy had decided to make her own way in the world, which meant there were only two of them—himself and Jackson—to carry on. Work was piled up so high at the ranch, he felt like they’d never catch up. He had no right to be taking a break and yet he found himself settling on one of the pine benches that flanked the café entrance.
He took out the cinnamon bun, and with his first bite, he could hear Brock saying that he was marrying Winnie for her buns. He’d always give a wink when he said this, and Winnie would groan.
Corb followed the roll with a long swig of the sweetened black coffee. It had caught him off guard that Laurel knew how he liked his coffee. Why didn’t he remember Winnie’s maid of honor?
Leaning back, he allowed his eyes to close for a second. Though he wouldn’t admit it, not to his doctors or his family, he was suffering from some terrible headaches these days. He figured they’d ease off with time. But in a way he didn’t want them to. Brock had died and he felt that he needed to pay a price, since he’d been the one to live.
Well, there was Jackson, too, but he’d joined the family when Corb was already fifteen, so it wasn’t like they’d grown up together the way he and Brock had. God, he couldn’t believe his baby brother was really gone. That damned moose coming out of the brush at just the wrong moment had stolen so much from so many people.
He felt especially bad for Winnie. It was too bad she’d taken off and left the county. He wished his mother would call her, but at the best of times Olive had not been fond of the woman Brock had chosen for his bride and these were definitely not the best of times.
Thankfully Winnie’s friend from New York had stuck around to help her out. That had been real good of her.
But even from this one meeting, he could tell that Laurel Sheridan was that sort of person. You could see the kindness in her eyes, a warmth that gave her pretty face a special glow.
He admired her hair, too. Thick, red and long, all piled up in a luxurious mess. He wondered what she looked like with it down. The fact that he’d probably already seen her that way but couldn’t remember, made his head throb.
Stop it!
What the hell was he doing, anyway, fantasizing about Winnie’s friend at a time like this? His family was in mourning, damn it. Besides, it was weird that he couldn’t recall meeting her when she obviously remembered him.
Had they spent much time together in that week before the wedding?
He wished like hell that he could remember.
* * *
RIGHT AFTER CORB left the café, Dawn Dolan showed up to start her shift, her long, fine blond hair already pulled back in a ponytail. She came in the back way, grabbing an apron from one of the pegs on the wall by the freezer as she passed by.
“Busy day?” she asked. “I hope so. I could use some good tips. I saw this top that would look perfect with that new skirt I bought last week.”
Online shopping was twenty-year-old Dawn’s main form of recreation. Laurel wished she would spend as much time on her college correspondence courses as she did surfing the net, but that was Dawn’s choice to make.
“Lunch hour rush is sure to start soon,” Laurel said. “So that’ll be your big chance to wow the customers and earn big bucks.”
They both smiled at this—the café did well for such a small town. But big bucks? Hardly.
“Mind if I take a little break?” Laurel checked her hair in the mirror, pursed her lips and added some peach gloss. “It’s been a long morning.”
“No problem.” Dawn glanced at the sandwich special Laurel had printed on the chalkboard. “Should I mix up the tuna salad?”
“That would be great.”
Laurel dried her hands on her apron, then slipped the strap over her head and slung it on the peg with Winnie’s name stenciled above it. She went out the back way and walked around to the front. As she’d hoped, she found Corb Lambert sitting on one of the benches.
Maybe slumped was a better word. His eyes were closed; he seemed to be soaking up a little of the noon sun, but his brow was furrowed. He looked like he was in pain. Physical or mental, she couldn’t tell. She supposed he had a right to be feeling both.
She sat next to him.
Though he must have sensed her presence, he said nothing, and for a minute or so, neither did she. Instead she focused on the sun’s glorious heat as it penetrated her tank top and jeans. It felt so good to rest. Why was she always so tired these days?
Across the street Laurel could see the post office and library. Though she’d only been in Coffee Creek for two months, Laurel knew the middle-aged people who worked inside each of those buildings. They were regulars at the café, too.
Tabitha, the librarian, always came to the Cinnamon Stick for her morning tea and muffin. Burt, from the post office, stopped in for his lunch. In fact, he’d be crossing the street for his sandwich and black coffee in about twenty minutes.
She turned to the man beside her. He’d opened his eyes and was now looking at her. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your brother.”
There were many other things she’d wanted to say to Corb Lambert. But this was the most important.
“Thank you. And I’m sorry I don’t seem to recall meeting you before. You’re sure we did?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He put a hand to his head, to the spot where his scar was barely visible under the stubble of his newly grown hair. “It doesn’t seem real to me. The accident. Brock’s death.”
“Winnie’s still in shock, too, I think.”
“She and my brother were good together.”
“Winnie was crazy about Brock.”
“A lot of people were. Brock was a lot of fun, but a hard worker, too. My mother saw to that.”
“She sounds like quite the woman, your mother.”
He chuckled. “She comes across as delicate and soft-spoken. But once you get to know her you realize she has a way of controlling things from behind the scenes. Us kids used to knock ourselves out to please her. Some of us still do.”
“I guess she had her hands full running a place like Coffee Creek Ranch. Must be a lot of work for her. For all of you.”
“It is, but we love it. At least those of us who stayed on the ranch love it. My brother B.J. is more interested in the rodeo circuit. And Cassidy seems to be feeling the lure of the city. Mom is hoping she’ll move back home when she finishes school, but Cassidy is equally determined to go her own way. I figure the two of them are too headstrong to live in the same county let alone the same house.”
He put his hat back on and took the last sip of his coffee. Laurel thought he was about to leave, but then he started talking again.
“How about you, Laurel? How are you doing? I bet you never counted on spending this much time in Coffee Creek when you left the city.”
“I sure didn’t pack enough clothes for two months,” she agreed with a smile. “Fortunately a friend of mine from work, Anna, sent me a package by bus.”
“Are you missing the city? Coffee