Chapter 3 Pickup Riders

"You're gonna do what?" Flint was so distracted by Ames' announcement that he momentarily lost focus during their arm wrestling match. They were seated at a tall square bar-height table that currently served as their dining room table.

Ames slammed his youngest brother's fist backwards against the rustic wood tabletop, ending the match. "I win!" He raised his fists in the air and gave them a shake of victory.

"Rematch," Flint howled. His glare indicated more loudly than words that he knew he hadn't been beaten fair and square.

Ames glanced at his watch. "No can do, bro. It's nearly midnight, and I have a breakfast date at the Peppermint Palace in the morning." The name of the restaurant was as froo-froo as the espresso Laura had brewed for him earlier.

Flint's glare became more pronounced. "Sounds to me like someone else besides you has that breakfast date with your favorite toy maker."

"Doesn't matter." Ames slapped the air, dismissing the claim. "I'm the one who's gonna have her back. Always have and always will." So long as she lets me, he added inside his head. There was no way he was going to admit how terrified he was that Laura might allow her ex to talk her into kissing and making up. You had your chance, Gypsy Boy, and you blew it. But some of the nicest women in the world let the meanest guys continue to walk all over them. He sent up a silent prayer that Laura would prove stronger than that.

He knew before laying eyes on Brex Morrison that the guy must be a real piece of work to have so callously broken the heart of a woman as lovely as Laura. He didn't care what Brex's reasons were. Anyone dumb enough to walk away from her the way he had didn't deserve her, plain and simple.

Help me prove it to her, Lord. Help me be the guy who finally gets to adore and cherish her the way she deserves.

He considered it a good sign that Laura wanted him at the restaurant with her in the morning so she wouldn't have to face her ex alone. Yeah, he got that it wasn't a typical dating situation, having to witness her meeting up with another guy. However, an extraordinary woman like Laura was worth going to extraordinary efforts for in order to win her heart.

Flint shook his head in disgust. "I hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing as a pickup rider on a date. Despite how much I like Laura, I think she's using you, bro."

"Not true. I'm the one who offered to have her back." Ames raised his hands in defense of her. "This was my idea from start to finish. Not hers. I even suggested the venue."

Flint looked even more disgusted as he stood and pushed his stool back from the table. "Just give me one good reason why you're gonna put yourself out there for her like that." His expression indicated he didn't think anything good would come from it.

Ames spread his hands. "She's the one, Flint. That's my reason. My one and only reason."

"Man," Flint groaned, yanking off his Stetson and sending it flying like a frisbee onto their leather sofa in the living room. It was a good shot. His hat landed on the middle cushion and stayed. He swung back in his older brother's direction. "Are you sure about this? About her?"

Ames nodded. His youngest brother was rarely serious. On the few occasions when he was, Ames preferred to give him the bald-faced truth. "I've prayed about our relationship enough to know that she's the one for me."

"Even though she's dating another guy?" Flint still didn't look convinced. He unbuttoned his fleece plaid shirt and shrugged out of it, revealing a navy graphic t-shirt underneath.

Ames knew what it looked like, but he couldn't do anything about that. Not right this second, at any rate. "Pretty sure this is a onetime meet up, and I wouldn't call it a date."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Flint tipped his head back to emit a howl of supreme frustration at the ceiling.

"Trying not to," Ames admitted ruefully. "I get how it sounds to you, bro, but I'm too busy keeping the faith to dwell on the negative."

"I want to believe you. I do. But what if you're wrong?" Flint met his gaze again, looking like he was tasting something sour.

Ames spread his hands. "If that ends up being the case," and he would be praying hard that it wasn't, "I can return home to run Canyon Creek Ranch ahead of the rest of y'all. Permanently, if that's where I'm needed the most." The three of them had never intended to be away from Dallas for this long. Though they had a top-notch foreman helping oversee the day-to-day operations of their horse ranch, it wasn't the same as being directly involved. There was no substitute for hands-on management. If one of the brothers didn't return home soon, they might as well start discussing the pros and cons of selling the place.

Flint was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head dejectedly. "The lengths a guy will go to dodge an arm wrestling rematch."

Ames barked out a laugh, appreciating the note of levity Flint had managed to introduce into a conversation that was getting way too serious. "Whatever you have to tell yourself to make you feel better about losing tonight." Before his youngest brother could formulate a worthy comeback, he moved to the side of the living room to jog up the stairs. His bedroom was located on the second floor.

Whistling to drown out any further pithy commentary from below, he cut across his bedroom and headed straight for the shower. Peeling out of his coffee stained clothing, he stepped beneath the hot spray.

"Lord, depending on how things go in the morning, I may need You to step in as my Pickup Rider." Laura was right about him. Despite his scarred and callused hands and arms, his heart was far from bullet proof, especially where she was concerned.

He was already bracing himself for the possibility she might decide to reconcile with her ex in the morning, instead of showing him the road like he deserved. Despite the strong front Ames had attempted to put on in front of Flint, keeping the faith where Laura was concerned was turning out to be one of the toughest challenges he'd ever faced.

After staringat the ceiling most of the night, Ames rolled out of bed and yanked on his jeans before his alarm went off. He'd checked online the evening before to verify the hours of operation for the Peppermint Palace. They opened at eight o'clock on the dot — right when Laura was scheduled to meet her ex there. Ames planned to be first in line and seated before they were. If she happened to catch sight of him getting served ahead of her, that was even better.

Flint was already nursing a cup of coffee when Ames strode into the kitchen. He was staring out the window over the sink with his elbows resting on the countertop.

Ames stifled a yawn. "I'm not awake enough for a rematch, if that's why you're here." He purposely bumped into Flint on his way to the coffee pot, making some of his coffee slosh over the rim of his cup into the sink.

"Now you owe me a cup of coffee and a rematch." Flint straightened and arched his back lazily to stretch it.

"It was one sip. Get over it." Ames reached for the pot Flint had brewed and helped himself to a brimming mug of it.

"Don't think I will," the punk drawled. "I let one rematch slide, and now you're pushing coffee boundaries. You're out of control, bro."

Ames stomped to the bar and hiked one hip up on a stool. "Do me a favor and hold the drama king routine until I've downed my first cup of joe. Better yet, save it until after I leave the house."

"I gotta better idea." Flint followed him to the bar and leaned forward on the counter, facing him. His hair was still tousled from sleep, and his plaid shirt wasn't yet buttoned over his undershirt.

"I seriously doubt it," Ames grumbled into his mug of coffee, trying to ignore him. Unfortunately, Flint was a force of nature that wasn't easy to ignore.

"Then you'd be wrong, because I'm coming with you," his youngest brother announced, spreading his hands grandly and nearly spilling his coffee again.

Ames was sorely regretting ever confiding in him. "Nobody invited you, brat."

"Not true." Flint carefully set down his mug. "I distinctly recall you saying you're on your way to the Peppermint Palace this morning to serve as Laura's pickup rider."

"Yes. Alone." It was all Ames could do not to curl his lip in disgust every time he heard the overly Christmassy sounding name of the restaurant spoken out loud. Only in Pinetop. Nearly every avenue in town was decorated to a postcard worthy level. The shop owners kept their holiday lights up year round, and so did a good number of the residents. Their constant display of Christmas spirit bordered on ridiculous.

Flint squared his shoulders. "If you can name a single rodeo we've ridden in that's employed less than two pickup riders, then I'll stand down. Otherwise, I'm coming with."

Ames glared at him, starting to feel boxed in. "Are you really that bored?" The last thing he needed was for his youngest brother to tag along, clowning around and creating scenes like he was so fond of doing. Fading into the background was a foreign concept to an attention hog like him.

Flint's expression grew obstinate. "If what you say is true about her being the one, it's my future sister-in-law I'll be helping out this morning. Like it or not, I've got some skin in this game."

Ames stood and scraped back his stool. "So help me, Flint, if you do anything more at the restaurant than slurp down that cup of coffee you insist I owe you?—"

Flint's loud whoop of elation silenced the rest of Ames' warning. Fortunately, he had the sense to leave his mug on the bar before commencing an obnoxious victory jig around the kitchen.

Ames shook his head at him. "Are you going to at least comb out your bed head?"

"Yup." Flint reached up with both hands to run his fingers through the longish blond waves. If anything, he made it worse. He continued his jig across the living room to the front door, where he stepped into the boots he'd kicked off there last night.

Moving to the sofa, he retrieved his Stetson and spun back toward his brother in a courtly bow. "Do I pass inspection?"

Ames followed him, still shaking his head. "Whoever ends up with you is gonna have her work cut out for her."

"Probably. And I've already got the lucky woman picked out." Grinning from ear to ear, Flint started to button his shirt.

I seriously doubt that. His youngest brother reveled way too much in all the attention of the rodeo groupies. Ames had yet to see him go on more than two or three dates with the same woman. He had an awful lot of growing up still to do.

"You missed a button." He reached over to flick the button in question, letting his arm continue swinging upward toward Flint's nose.

Flint neatly dodged the intended nose flick while fixing the button he'd previously missed. Then he stuffed the front flaps of his shirt tails loosely into his jeans. "I'm ready to two-step, darling." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively at Ames' sock feet.

Out of sheer habit, Ames mechanically slung a leg toward the door but encountered nothing but air. He scowled at the empty spot by the door where his boots normally rested. "What did you do with my boots?" So help me! Living with Flint could be such a pain in the rear sometimes, and Ames already had more than enough aches and pains radiating from his shoulder blades to his backside — thanks to his skid down the icy porch steps next door.

"They're in the mud room." Flint's voice was deceptively polite and helpful.

"Why?" They were two single guys batching it alone. It wasn't as if anyone cared how many boots they left by the front door.

"So I could get a head start to the truck in case you tried to stop me from riding shotgun." Flint whipped his jacket from the hall tree and took off at a jog down the stairs leading to their lower-level garage. He banged the door shut behind him. Loudly.

Silently begging the Lord for patience, Ames stomped to the mudroom around the corner to retrieve his boots. It doubled as a laundry room. A washer and dryer rested inside a storage alcove on one side, and a bench with locker room hooks mounted over it filled the space on the other side.

Flint had literally tossed Ames' boots inside the room, probably without even looking. One was perched haphazardly on the edge of the washer. The other boot was lying on its side in the doorway.

Ames was in no mood for conversation by the time he made his way to the truck he'd been sharing with Flint during their stint in Pinetop. If his youngest brother valued his life, he'd pipe down during the short drive to the restaurant.

To his surprise, the garage door was already rolled open, and not one but two brothers awaited him inside the truck. It was a restored, black and silver classic Chevy. One long leather seat filled the cab. There was no console divider.

Ames yanked open the door to the driver's side. "What in the world?" Their oldest brother, Nash, was lounged in the middle of the seat with his bionic arm hiked up on the back of the seat behind Flint. It was downright miraculous how well he'd adjusted to his new life as an amputee.

Flint pushed his Stetson back to fix Ames with an innocent look. "All pickup riders are present and accounted for, sir." He punctuated the claim with a sharp military salute. "We're doing this Carson brothers' style."

Ames glanced at his watch, irritated to see that it was already quarter 'til eight. There was no time left to argue the matter. He climbed behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and started the motor.

"Cranky," Flint hissed in a stage voice.

Nash gave him a warning look. "So, uh…Noelle gave me permission to tell you two something and only you two."

Ames's insides tightened with apprehension as he backed from the garage and rolled down the driveway. "Is she okay?"

His oldest brother's expression softened. "She's pregnant."

"Whoa!" Ames feathered the truck brakes for a moment before jamming down on them at the base of the driveway. "Congratulations!" He leaned over to deliver a hug, bumping Stetsons in the process and knocking them askew.

"Thanks!" Nash straightened his hat just in time for Flint to slap his arms around him in an explosive bear hug. This time, Nash's Stetson went flying to his knees.

"I'm gonna be an uncle!" Flint's delighted crow filled the cab.

"You're not the only one." Ames felt a grin pull at his mouth. It was impossible to remain in a grumpy mood in the face of such incredible news.

A little over a year ago, Nash had lost his right arm about an inch above the elbow in a highway accident that had nearly claimed his life. It had been touch and go for a few hours. The following days, weeks, and months had been full of even more challenges for the young bronc champion turned amputee. He'd assumed his rodeo career was over, but that was before the offer to come perform at Castellano's indoor rodeo had arrived in the mail.

Fourteen months later, Nash was straddling two home addresses between Dallas and Pinetop, Arizona — serving as a rodeo rider, ranch manager, brother, husband, and now a father-to-be. He was a living, breathing miracle in cowboy boots. Someone Ames looked up to more than anyone else in the world. After losing their parents in their teens, Nash had also been serving as something of a father figure to Ames and Flint.

Ames continued to steal glances at his oldest brother as he drove them to Pinetop's busiest downtown area. While Flint cracked a steady stream of new uncle jokes, Nash sat there looking genuinely happy. It was nothing less than he and Noelle deserved. The two of them had started off as friends, really good ones, before falling in love. As far as Ames was concerned, they'd set the gold standard for relationships. He could only hope and pray that he and Laura would be able to build something similar on their own incredible friendship.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost missed the turn into the parking lot of the Peppermint Palace. He had to stop the truck and back up a few feet to avoid hitting the curb.

Flint indulged them with the sound of whooshing air brakes, following by the mechanical beeps of a work truck backing up in a construction zone.

"Do you mind?" Ames sent him a dark look.

Flint immediately launched into the sound of police sirens. He made it sound so real that Ames actually ducked a quick glance into his rearview mirror.

"Gotcha, sucker!" Flint pointed at him and burst out laughing.

Ames shook his head at Nash. "You do realize he's gonna be the uncle who buys drum sets, corn poppers, and all the other most annoying toys ever invented?"

Nash chuckled. "Guess it's a good thing we're friends with a family of heirloom toy makers." He elbowed Ames knowingly as he drove across the nearly empty parking lot to claim one of the front row spots. "Maybe you can put a bug in their ears to steer a certain young uncle accordingly?"

"Sure thing on the bug." Ames rolled his eyes. "No promises on the steering. It's Flint we're talking about."

"I'm right here, bros," the brother in question reminded cheerfully.

"Only because you invited yourself," Ames shot back.

"Technically, I invited Nash," Flint corrected with a smirk. "I'm the stowaway you don't think you need, but I'm about to prove you wrong."

"Or," Ames countered testily as he pushed open his door, "you can play the part of a silent observer before I do you bodily harm."

"Eh, what's the fun in that?" Looking unphased by the threat, Flint opened his door and hopped down to the pavement with a jackrabbit sized bounce. "Oh, wait! I know the answer to that question. Without me, you'd have no idea that ex-Romeo is gonna be running a good ten minutes late to the par-tay." He drew out the word playfully. "That's because someone gave him the wrong directions. Oh, and Lucy dropped Laura off right before we pulled up, so she's already waiting inside the building all by her lonesome."

Though Ames didn't know how his youngest brother had scraped up the information about Brex Morrison's arrival time, it didn't take a genius to figure out he'd been talking to Lucy about the last item. With a growl of irritation, he tossed his truck keys to Nash and took off jogging, clearing the peppermint drawbridge in front of the silly looking restaurant well ahead of his brothers. He gritted his teeth as he entered the cylindrical building that had been painted to resemble a gigantic stack of pancakes. It felt like stepping onto the set of a cartoon television show.

Just as Flint had promised, Laura was standing alone in the wide front waiting area. Though cushioned benches lined the walls on three sides of it, she was standing a few feet away from the hostess booth, nervously twisting the corner of her thick cardigan sweater.

When the front door jingled to announce Ames' entrance, she whirled in his direction. "Oh! Hi, Ames!" If anyone had been watching the way her tired expression lit up, they'd have assumed she'd been waiting for him instead of someone else.

He strode her way, ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be remaining in the background. "Hey, you!" He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to spin her in a full circle. "Fancy running into you here," he teased as he set her down. The shadows beneath her eyes tugged at his heartstrings. It didn't look like she'd gotten any more sleep than he had.

She still looked amazing, though. Forcing his arms back to his sides, he drank her in like a man dying of thirst. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sassy ponytail that made his fingers itch to give it a yank. There was no stopping the low whistle of admiration that escaped him. She looked that good in jeans and boots, something he rarely got to see her in. Most of the time, she was wearing an elf costume, the standard uniform at Santa's Toy Factory where she worked. And unlike last night, her jeans weren't sporting a coffee stain the size of Utah.

She stepped closer to hiss, "Did you just wolf whistle at me, Ames Carson?"

"What if I did?" He gazed down at her for an unguarded moment, allowing her to read everything he was thinking and feeling.

"You look ready to steal that kiss you keep talking about." She gave a breathy giggle and took a step back.

"Darling, I was born ready for that." He winked at her.

"Probably not a good idea to start your life of crime this morning." She whirled to face the front door as it jingled again, instinctively backing up a step in his direction.

He doubted she'd even realized what she'd done. It made his heart sing to know she felt safe with him. He bent to speak directly in her ear. "Relax. It's just my brothers."

She slumped in relief against him, briefly tipping her head against his chest. He wanted so badly to hold her that it was all he could do to keep his arms at his sides. However, Brex Morrison could walk in at any moment.

As Nash strode closer, she sprang forward to wrap him in a gentle hug. "Congratulations, Nash! I'm so happy for you and Noelle."

Nash gave Ames a wide-eyed look of accusation over her head.

Ames spread his hands, silently protesting his innocence. There was no way he would've spilled a secret like that without his brother's permission, not even to Laura.

She stepped back with an apologetic smile. "I know I'm probably not supposed to know, but it's a small town, and…" She gave a helpless shrug. "One person saw Noelle leaving the doctor's office yesterday. Someone else caught her browsing through baby clothes at one of the boutiques, and yet another person claims she was looking pale around the gills over her salmon salad at the Gingerbread House. With that many nosy locals, it was impossible not to connect the dots."

Nash snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, that's Pinetop for you." He didn't look too bothered by it. The place was clearly growing on him. It was growing on all of them. "To keep me out of trouble with my wife, I won't pass on your congratulations. Instead, I'll let you deliver them yourself the next time you see her."

"I can't wait! This is so exciting!" Laura clasped her gloved hands together, dancing her gaze over the three of them. "So, what are the odds of running into all three of you here this morning?" To her credit, she sounded really happy about it.

When none of them leaped forward with an answer, she nodded in understanding. "I'm getting the whole pickup riding team, aren't I?" The look she sent over her shoulder at Ames was brimming with gratitude.

"We've got your back, just like I promised." He winked at her.

A tinge of pink blossomed across her high cheekbones. "I really owe you for this."

"Yeah, you do," he teased, "and I intend to collect." It would be the perfect time for her to pay up with that kiss they continued to joke about privately.

The color in her face deepened.

Flint cleared his throat and muttered, "Go time." As smooth as if he'd rehearsed the maneuver, he two-stepped around Laura, cutting ahead of her in line at the hostess station. "Reservation for Flint, party of three," he intoned in a low voice.

"You little punk," Ames growled, half swinging in his direction. However, he was careful to keep the front entrance door in his peripheral vision until it opened.

The infamous Gypsy Boy, who'd so callously broken Laura's heart, strutted in like a rooster ready to crow at the crack of dawn. His homespun appearance was the antithesis of the bounce in his step. His double-breasted wool jacket was clearly one he'd purchased second-hand, probably from some military clothing outlet. It was unbuttoned, revealing a neck scarf, a denim shirt with the collar casually pushed up, and yet another scarf on top of that. It was secured by a square antique pin. His hands were bare, revealing a trail of floral and bird tattoos. He was really playing up the gypsy look.

Though his dark hair was windblown, it had recently been cut, possibly by hand since it looked a little uneven over his right ear. Either that, or he'd carelessly shoved it back before entering the restaurant. He was sporting an evening shadow that was quickly working its way into a beard. His entire appearance felt deliberate. Staged. Something that belonged on the cover of a movie magazine.

Ames reckoned he should've expected no less from a man with an agenda, one that clearly involved the woman whose life he was attempting to slither back into.

"Laura." Brex Morrison's voice held a curious mix of raspy emotion and regret, probably something he'd practiced. "It's so good to see you again."

Her expression tightened. Whatever he'd hoped to accomplish with his dramatic entrance into the restaurant had failed to hit its mark. "We need to talk." She made no move to shake the hand he was holding out to her.

He lowered it with a wistful sigh. "That's why I'm here."

"If you'll follow me, sir." The hostess lightly touched Ames' shoulder to get his attention. "Your table is ready."

Right. He mechanically followed her from the waiting area, keeping his head averted so he could continue discreetly observing Laura and her breakfast companion. The hostess led him and his brothers to a table against the east side of the room. A padded bench was built into the wall on one side of the table, and two chairs were pushed up to the other side of it.

Flint angled his head at the bench. "You get first dibs on the wall, bro."

"Thanks." Ames took a seat, liking the central location of their table. It gave him a full view of the rest of the room.

"I specifically requested this table." Flint slid in beside him. "So I hope that's your way of saying you owe me more than a coffee, especially since I left my wallet at home."

"Of course you did." Ames' gaze never left the entrance of the dining room, which the hostess soon led Laura and Brex through. To his surprise, she seated them at the table right across from him and his brothers.

Laura's startled gaze briefly fluttered to him.

He gave her what he hoped she would interpret as an encouraging nod.

She either didn't notice or purposely ignored the chair her ex-fiancé held for her. Instead, she pulled out her own chair, the one facing Ames.

That's right, darling. You need anything, and I'll be right here.

Flint opened his menu and spoke in a low voice from behind it. "You're mighty welcome for the view, bro. If they served steak for breakfast, this meal would be costing you a lot more."

Their waitress arrived with complimentary glasses of water. Handing out straws, she lifted her pen over her pad to take their orders. "What'll it be for you guys this morning?"

Nash ripped the paper off one end of his straw and sent the other end zinging over the top of Flint's menu.

Flint raised a single eyebrow at Ames. "I might've failed to brief him on the all work and no play part of this gig."