Buckhorn Brothers: Casey Part 10

"Is Gabe here yet?"

Casey shook himself out of his stupor. He moved the utilitarian curtain aside and looked out the window. "Just pulled in. I told him I'd watch for him, so we should go on down."

She nodded and went to sit on the side of the bed next to B.B. The big dog raised up in silent query. "I'll be back soon, bud. You sleep."

The dog's tail smacked hard against the mattress in agreement, and Casey could have sworn he grinned. Then he resettled his head and went back to sleep.

"He understands you?"

"He knows a lot of phrases, and he's smarter than most people I know." Emma picked up her purse. "Besides, he's used to dozing the day away when I work. He'll be fine."

Damon held the door open and they all went out to the parking lot together. Gabe stood lounging against the side of his tow truck in dark sungla.s.ses, a backward ball cap, ragged cutoffs and an unb.u.t.toned shirt that showed his tanned chest. All in all, typical weekend wear for Gabe.

Emma smiled when she saw him and said in an aside to Casey, "He hasn't changed a bit." Then Gabe's youngest daughter, five-year-old Briana, stepped out from behind him and Emma laughed. "Well now, that's new!"

Casey grinned. "We wondered if there'd be any girl babies born into the family since the dominant gene appears to be male. But Gabe surprised everyone, including his wife, by fathering not one, but three daughters. They're five, seven and nine years old. All with blond hair and blue eyes. This is Briana, the youngest."

With twinkling eyes, the little girl scooted to Casey and held up her arms, obliging Casey to lift her. He hefted her to his hip, kissed her golden head, and gave her a fierce hug. "Hey, squirt."

"She's beautiful," Emma said, and stroked Briana's little shoulder. Briana beamed at her for the compliment.

"All three of his daughters are."

Emma laughed again. "Actually, she looks like a small feminine version of Gabe."

"Exactly. Makes him nuts, too."

Damon stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Damon Devaughn. Thank you for coming out on a weekend."

Gabe, always jovial, shrugged off the remark. "Not a problem. Casey said you have a Mustang Boss. Can't very well leave a sweet car like that on the side of the road, not even here in Buckhorn."

"It's not my car. It's Emma's."

"Emma?" His uncle didn't seem to remember her at all, until he went to shake her hand, which caused him to look at her more closely. "You look familiar." He glanced at Casey. "Have we been introduced before?"

Casey wanted to groan. He sent Gabe a look, but his uncle was distracted trying to recall where and when he'd met Emma.

"I'm from here originally," Emma said. "And really, Mr. Kasper, we do appreciate the help."

"Good G.o.d, girl, no one calls me mister. Gabe will do, if you don't want to make me feel old." Gabe stared at her a moment more while attempting to recall her. A smile appeared. "That's right, I remember now. You're that girl who..."

He drew up short on his verbal faux pas, and Casey hurried to fill in the awkward silence. "Emma's been away for eight years."

"S'that right?" Gabe lifted the cap from his head, scratched his right ear and then replaced his hat, all the while grinning. "Welcome home, Emma."

Scrupulously polite, Emma said, "I'm just here for a visit."

Gabe took his daughter from Casey. "Don't be silly. You don't visit home, because you can't ever really leave it." Before anyone could argue that point, Gabe turned to Damon. "You're coming with me, right?"

Damon pulled his concerned gaze from Emma. "Yes. I have the keys to the Mustang. I was hoping to explore the town while you repaired the car."

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Not yet."

"Then I'll drop you at Ceily's diner. You'll get the best ham and eggs in three counties."

Damon and Emma shared a look of mutual wariness. Not understanding, Casey took Emma's arm. "You remember Ceily, don't you, Em?"

She looked stricken only a moment, and in the next instant her face was blank of any expression. She pulled sungla.s.ses from her purse and slipped them on. Casey noted that her hand shook and her tone was clipped when she finally said, "Yes. I remember her." Her smile appeared forced. "You'll enjoy the food, Damon."

Casey didn't know what had upset her, but he decided it was past time to get on the road. "Damon, we'll see you later." Much, much later. "Gabe, thanks again." He waved to Briana. "Be good to Damon, sweetie."

When Damon slid into the seat next to her, Briana beamed at him and said, "You smell good."

"Why, thank you," Damon said with a chuckle.

Gabe groaned. "This is the penance I pay for my misspent youth. Three flirting daughters will definitely be the death of me."

Emma smiled at the exchange as Casey led her to his car. Her moods changed quicker than the breeze, but eventually he'd understand her. Once they finished the visit to the hospital, he'd have her alone on the lake. He'd get some answers, make some headway a and reestablish old bonds.

He could hardly wait.

CHAPTER SIX.

DAMON FELT as if he'd stepped into another world, or at least taken a step back in time. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," he murmured to himself.

Gabe Kasper, a very friendly, laid-back fellow with the absolute worst fashion sense Damon had ever witnessed firsthand, had dropped him off in the middle of the town a if you could call such a small, old-fashioned gathering of buildings a town. But the architecture was impressive, ornate yet st.u.r.dy, able to withstand the pa.s.sing of time.

Prior to letting him out of the truck, Gabe had pointed in the direction of the diner and admonished Damon to stay out of the sun.

True enough, he wasn't much for tanning, and a ball cap, especially one worn backward as Gabe preferred, was out of the question. While looking around, Damon noticed that nearly every person he saw was dressed in a similar fashion. It was like being at Palm Beach during spring break. He wondered how many people const.i.tuted the local denizens and how many were vacationers visiting the lake.

Women paraded up and down the sidewalks in shorts and bathing-suit tops. Adolescent boys were shirtless. Some children were barefoot. Every doorway sp.a.w.ned several loiterers and d.a.m.ned if there weren't two grizzled old men in coveralls playing checkers under the shade of the barbershop awning. It was like landing in Mayberry, but with color. Lots and lots of color.

Enormous, lush oak trees lined the side of the road and provided some shade to most of the storefronts. The sky was so blue it dazzled. Flowers grew from every nook and cranny, and birds of every size and song flitted about.

Damon drew a deep breath and felt his lungs expand with fresh, humid air. Jesus, he liked it. A lot.

He strolled along the sidewalk, soaking in the atmosphere and acclimating himself. A few minutes later, he smelled the luscious scents from the diner even before he saw it.

When they'd driven through the night before, Emma had pointed the place out, but other than noting the location, he'd paid little attention. He'd been too worried about Emma, watching her to see how she took her return to Buckhorn.

As an architect, he now studied the simple but unique lines of each structure. The diner was s.p.a.cious, in the same design as the other buildings around it, but modern windows and roofing materials had been added, making it somewhat unique. He knew that eight years ago it had been gutted by fire, which probably accounted for the improvements. Damon shook his head. Emma had retold the story so many times that he knew it by heart.

He continued along, nodding to the people who gave him cautious looks until he reached the diner. Up close, the modern materials were even more noticeable. Still, the reconstruction was a quality job, nicely executed.

The walkway had been swept clean, the windows were spotless, and the ornate oak front door stood propped open by a large clay flowerpot filled to overflowing with purple, yellow and red flowers. The quiet buzz of conversation mingled with the sounds of dishes clacking, food sizzling on the grill and a jukebox playing.

Damon peered inside, making note of the tidy rows of booths and tables, the immaculate floor, the utilization of every available s.p.a.ce. Apparently Ceily did an efficient job of running the diner, and in hiring good help. He wondered if he'd be able to meet her. Based on everything Emma had told him about her, he was curious. He'd already formed an image of her in his mind and he wondered if she'd look as he pictured her a work-worn, tired, frumpy. As he was glancing around, a waitress moved into his view, drawing his attention.

The second Damon's gaze landed on her, everything and everyone else faded into the background. Lord have mercy, they grew the girls healthy in Buckhorn. He leaned into the doorway to watch her, and felt intrigued.

Damon had always considered Emma to be a luscious woman, healthy and earthy and sensual. The woman now bent to a booth picking up dishes was just as luscious, maybe more so because, d.a.m.n, he didn't view her in any familial way.

He did a visual sweep of her body, taking in every detail and noting the lack of a ring on her left hand, as well as the delicate bracelet circling her slim ankle. He also noted that she appeared busy but happy, rushed but energized.

Tight, faded jean shorts made her rump look especially round a a deliberate effort on her part, no doubt. A red cotton crop top hugged her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and showed off her trim, lightly tanned midriff. A st.u.r.dy utility ap.r.o.n with only a few spots on it had been tied loosely around her hips, looking more like decoration than protection against stains. Sun-streaked, sandy-brown hair hung to the middle of her back, contained in a loose ponytail that added to the country-girl charm. She wore snowy-white canvas sneakers on her feet. Cute.

He'd known, admired and s.e.xually enjoyed a lot of polished, sophisticated women. Not once had he ever gotten involved with a country b.u.mpkin. The idea appealed to his sense of adventure and variety. Would she romp with him in the hay? Make him biscuits and gravy the morning after? He grinned to himself, wondering at the possibilities and feeling a tad whimsical.

Someone at the table behind her spoke, and she laughed as she turned a and caught Damon's speculative stare. As if the meeting of their eyes snared her physically, she went still. Her wide smile faded but her green eyes remained bright. Damon estimated her to be in her early thirties. Their gazes locked for a long moment before the customers regained her attention. She dismissed Damon with a quick, curious smile and got back to work.

Miss Ceily had done all right in hiring that one, Damon decided. Not only was she a conscientious worker, but she provided some very nice scenery.

Propelled forward by his own curiosity, Damon stepped inside. He watched her a moment more to judge which tables were hers then he seated himself. And he waited. He didn't stare at her again; that would have been too obvious. But his awareness of her was so keen he always knew just where she was within the diner. He listened to her as she visited with the other customers, and decided her laugh was nice. Her voice had the same pleasant country tw.a.n.g he'd noticed the first time he'd met Emma.

Satisfaction oozed through him as he sensed her approach. It'd be interesting to see if she suited him. And if she did, well, this visit might turn out more stimulating than he'd antic.i.p.ated.

She set a gla.s.s of ice water in front of him. "Hi there." Without blinking, she leaned her hip on the edge of his booth and met his bold gaze.

Damon allowed a small smile. Checking for her name, he glanced at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she wore no name tag, so he couldn't look as long a or as thoroughly a as he'd have liked. Glancing back at her face, he kept his gaze fixed, his voice low and heavy in a way that he knew would indicate his interest. "h.e.l.lo."

The second he spoke, her slim eyebrows lifted. "A visitor, huh?"

Her easy, friendly familiarity pleased him. "Guilty. My lack of accent gave me away?"

"That it did, but don't worry. You won't stand out too much. This time of year we have a lot of vacationers around." She looked him over, then asked, "You staying at the lake?"

"No." Damon continued to smile without offering further explanations. He waited to see if she'd push him or back off.

She did neither. "I didn't think so. You don't look much like a fisherman."

Startled by that disclosure a and a little relieved, because, really, who would want to look like a fisherman? a he said, "No?"

Her smile quirked. "Too tidy."

"You have sloppy fishermen in the area, do you?"

"Not sloppy. Relaxed." She straightened away from the table. "Fishing requires a lot of patience and time spent in the weather. You don't look all that patient, and you don't look like you hang outdoors much."

Now that sounded vaguely like an insult, causing him to frown. So he didn't have a tan. Hadn't she heard that too much exposure to the sun wasn't healthy for you?

With a look of innocence, as if she hadn't just deliberately riled him, she tapped the menu. "You had a chance to decide what you want, yet?"

Oh, he knew exactly what he wanted. Damon pushed the plastic printed menu aside without interest "What do you recommend?"

Her smile widened and her lashes lowered in a coy, rather effective manner. "That'd depend. Whatcha in the mood for?"

d.a.m.n, her flirting stirred him. It had been far too long since he'd had the relief of s.e.x. "I somehow doubt it's listed on the menu."

"We're not that backward." She shifted, and deftly managed to draw his attention to her legs again. "Why don't you give us a try?"

"All right." He eyed her shapely hips, not lingeringly, but with enough intent that she couldn't miss it. "How about something ... hearty."

Suddenly she laughed in delight, tipping her head back and showing a seductive length of throat. She had a husky laugh, and it turned him on. But then, at that particular moment, everything appeared to be turning him on.

"Hearty, huh?"

"That's right."

Smoothing a wisp of tawny hair behind her ear, she said, "All right. We have a sinful egg and ham ca.s.serole that'll stick to your ribs till dinnertime."

"Sinful, you say? Interesting. And who prepared it?"

She looked at him beneath her lashes. "Me."

"Ah." He tilted his head to study her. Her lashes were long and thick, her eyes smoky, with small crinkles at the corners that showed her to be a woman used to laughing, a woman who lived her life with enthusiasm. Her nose turned up slightly on the end, giving her an elfin appearance in direct contrast to her earthy sensuality. And her body...he'd love to see her naked. He was fair sick of skinny women on a perpetual diet, honed so tightly that nothing ever jiggled. With a long, leisurely ride, this woman would jiggle a her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her behind...

Feeling the heat expand inside him, Damon stuck out his hand, anxious to touch her. "I'm Damon Devaughn, by the way. I'll be in the area for a little while."

"S'that so?" She took his hand, but didn't perform the customary shake. Instead, she just held on to him, giving her own brazen show of interest. "I'm Ceily."

Surprise momentarily made him mute. d.a.m.n, he hadn't seen that coming. To be sure, he asked, "Ceily, as in the owner of the diner?"

"One and the same." She smiled down at their clasped hands, one eyebrow raised, but she didn't pull away from him. And Damon didn't release her. She had a firm hold, her hand slim, warm, a little rough from work.

For whatever reason, he'd expected Ceily to be older, more timeworn, tired. Emma's memories of her had been of a grown woman, yet Ceily must have had responsibility for the diner at an early age because by his count, she was still young.

Beyond his s.e.xual interest, Damon felt...impressed.

Knowing who she was slanted things though, made them a tad more difficult, but not impossible. He decided to test her before he got any more involved. "I'm here with a friend."

Disappointment made her green eyes darken. "Female friend?"

"Yes." He released her hand and leaned back in his seat, watching for her reaction. "You might remember her. Emma Clark?"

A brief moment of confusion crossed her features, then she brightened. "No kidding? I remember Emma. She's Casey Hudson's age, right?"

Damon scowled. Why the h.e.l.l would she mention Casey? "That's right. In fact, she's with Casey today, visiting her father in the hospital."

Ceily turned and hollered toward the kitchen. "Hey, I need a ca.s.serole and-" She looked back at Damon. "What do you want to drink?"