She took a drink and Trent watched her slender neck bend back, exposing the smooth skin.
He quickly turned away to the white arch intertwined with greenery and colorful flowers. He inhaled the soft scent and didn’t know if it was the blooms or the woman. “Okay, I’ll have one of the men take care of the delivery. I don’t want Laurel to have any reminders of today.”
Brooke turned her head. Her green eyes flashed him a look that reminded him a lot of Laurel. “I’m sorry. She must be devastated.”
Trent shrugged. “Probably, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. She took off to Denver to find him. Her parents went with her. That’s why Rory isn’t here.”
“Then I showed up and added to your troubles.”
He didn’t disagree. “This isn’t the best time to announce to Laurel that she has a sister and a biological mother—who gave her up.”
* * *
BROOKE WORKED HARD not to look away from Trent Landry. His cowboy hat might have shaded his eyes, but she felt the heat from the rich coffee color. He seemed to be able to reach deep inside her and pull out more than she wanted him to know. But her news wasn’t for him, it was for Rory and Laurel.
“And that’s why Coralee wants to see her. To explain why she had to give her up.”
The tall, muscular man’s dark gaze sent her a glaring look. “By signing away her rights, she made a promise not to contact Laurel.” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s what full custody means. And now she’s breaking it, by pushing herself into her daughter’s life.”
“She has a good reason.”
“What, guilt, because she gave her away?”
Brooke had trouble staying calm, but she knew she had to focus on her mother’s wish. “I’m sure that Rory will understand why Coralee wants to see Laurel this one time.”
He frowned. “Why, is she dying?”
Brooke’s chest tightened with emotion. “Something like that. Coralee has early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Look, Mr. Landry,” Brooke began, still having trouble reading the man. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I made a promise to my mother.”
“It’s Trent,” he insisted.
She nodded, trying to rein in her frustration. “Trent. Please call me Brooke.”
He smiled and she quickly lost her train of thought.
“Okay, Brooke. Why don’t we go inside and sit down? I think we’ve earned a break.”
Brooke let him escort her up the back steps and through a large mudroom that had a front-loading washer and dryer. On the other wall was a long row of hooks that held a collection of cowboy hats. That was where Trent placed his hat, then motioned her into the next space.
She paused in the doorway and her gaze searched the farm-style kitchen, including a brick fireplace. Lining the walls were white cabinets with black metal hinges and knobs decorating the fronts. Dark-stained butcher-block counters held small appliances, but left plenty of room for making meals or baking cookies. Oh, my, the room was as big as her entire apartment.
Suddenly she was second-guessing her decision to come here. But for months, Coralee had begged her, cried about her other daughter, Laurel. The baby she gave away. What if Rory Quinn didn’t care and he threw her off the property?
Brooke stiffened, feeling Trent’s hand against her spine.
“Let’s sit over here.”
He directed her to an oval table in front of a picture window overlooking the pasture of grazing cattle.
She just realized she didn’t know much about this family. Only what was on the website for Bucking Q Cattle Company. “How many Quinns live here?”
“There’s just the three of them. Rory, Diane, his wife, and the one daughter, Laurel.”
Just one daughter that he knows about, she thought, looking out at the incredible mountains through the glass. “It must have been fun to grow up on a ranch.” She turned around to see Trent’s curious look.
“Yeah, it is, but there’s a lot of work, too.” He went to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of iced tea. “Looks like Bill left some food here, too.”
Brooke wasn’t surprised. “I hope you don’t mind, but I also asked him to leave some of the food in the bunkhouse for the men.”
He stopped pouring the tea and stared at her.
Was he upset?
“I mean, they’ve worked hard today. It’s nice that they can have a good meal tonight. Chet talked very highly of Laurel.”
“They all think highly of Laurel, and yeah, the men were all invited to the wedding.”
“That’s nice.”
“You won’t find nicer people than Rory and Diane.”
She hoped she got a chance to find that out. “You’ve known them for a long time.”
He nodded. “Years ago, my dad, Wade, and Rory rode the rodeo circuit together. Then when they retired, Rory bought the Bucking Q and Dad came a few years later and bought the ranch next door, the Lucky Bar L. So you can say Rory’s known me since I was born.”
“If they’d been friends all these years, I bet your dad would know about Coralee.”
A distant look appeared on Trent’s face. “He might, but he died almost two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, hating that she was bringing up sad memories.
He nodded. “So am I. Since I’m only four years older than Laurel, I can’t remember something like that. When my folks settled here, Rory was married and had baby Laurel.”
“I guess I’m just going to have to get answers from Mr. Quinn.”
Trent brought the glasses to the table, then turned the chair around and straddled it. He took a long drink. “I never asked where you’re from.”
“Nevada. Las Vegas.”
“Are you older or younger than Laurel?”
Brooke froze a second. “Younger.” That wasn’t a lie.
He studied her closely, then asked, “What do you do in Las Vegas?”
“Right now, I’m a card dealer, but I just graduated college and I’m hoping to hear soon about a hotel-management position. That’s the reason I can’t stay long. It a great opportunity, especially with the added expense of my mother’s long-term care...”
Trent arched an eyebrow. “Are you thinking about asking for help from the Quinns?”
She reared back. “Of course not. Believe me, Mr. Landry, I know very well that Rory Quinn doesn’t owe my mother a thing.”
She started to stand, but Trent placed his hand on her arm to prevent her leaving.
“I apologize,” he said. “I’m protective of my friends, and today had to be the worst day to show up here.”
“I don’t doubt that, and I’m sorry for all your troubles. But I’m here now,” she countered. “And if Mr. Quinn calls you, you can let him handle it.”
“It’s Rory. Everyone calls him Rory.”
An ache touched deep in her chest. She would have liked to call the man Dad,