Heartbeat Braves Read online

  Heartbeat Braves

  Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center Book 1

  Pamela Sanderson

  Copyright © 2016 by Pamela Rentz. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by Holly Heisey (www.hollyheiseydesign.com)

  Editor: Lorelei Logsdon, (www.loreleilogsdon.com)

  Visit the author's website at www.pamelasanderson.com.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Crooked Rock Book 2

  Excerpt: Lovesick Braves

  Crooked Rock Book 3

  Excerpt: Sweetheart Braves

  Crooked Rock Book 4

  Afterward

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Pamela Sanderson

  1

  Rayanne stared at the message on her computer screen:

  Sorry R. A deadline is a deadline. The retreat lodge has been rebooked for another group. They already paid. There’s nothing I can do. The policy is no refunds on deposits. I’ll ask the boss but I think you’re out of luck.

  Rayanne tapped her head against the screen. She’d been so certain she could fix this.

  The executive director stuck her head out of her office. She had the bright smile you would expect from a nonprofit employee but her eyes said she was a person accustomed to getting less than she’d hoped for. “Tell me you have good news.”

  “Working on it,” Rayanne fibbed. She typed out the beginning of a reply, but to say what?

  Please reconsider your reconsideration.

  Help, we’re desperate.

  You have to give us another chance even if it’s too late, because jobs are on the line.

  She let out a heavy sigh and met Linda in her office. “Sorry.”

  Linda closed her eyes. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it. I can’t stand one more piece of bad news.”

  “I’ll say it by not saying it.”

  “Did you convey how deeply important this is? Did you plead? Did you look for someone to bribe? I can’t walk into that meeting and tell our brand new board of directors, who were appointed specifically because of rumors that we’re incompetent, that we have screwed up yet again.”

  “They already rebooked the space.”

  Linda’s shoulders drew tight. Even before Margie’s illness and resignation, they had struggled with everything from funding to a contract dispute. The process of buying the new building with its never-ending reports and forms had stretched them to exhaustion. They were all worn down, but Linda bore the worst of it.

  “The task is to hold a retreat,” Rayanne said. “Why not have it here?”

  “This place is a disaster,” Linda said, indicating the chaos that was the current state of her office. Their move into the new building had been delayed twice already. They were half in and half out of boxes. Stacks of extra chairs lined the wall, and computer monitors sat on the floor.

  “So? We can use the front room. We push everything into a corner. Bring in some comfortable furniture and a nice rug.”

  “A nice rug?” Linda said.

  “Make it homey. Think of all the money we’ll save. Besides, what is the point of a retreat anyway? Do we need to be surrounded by mountains and trees?”

  “The point of a retreat is to get work done without distractions,” Linda said.

  “How are hiking trails and horseback riding less distracting than the dull brown walls of this place?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what retreaters expect,” Linda said. She took a deep breath. “Can’t put this off forever. Can you make a fresh pot of coffee?”

  “Got it,” Rayanne said. “Again, sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” Linda said. “This one is all me. We need to organize me better.”

  Linda’s office was a mess without the trials of moving. She liked to hang on to things, so there were files and booklets, and binders from conferences from years ago. In addition, they received oddball donations like a bag of kid-sized sneakers and boxes of insulated coffee cups from a tribal casino. She had several pieces of framed art leaning against the wall ready for bubble wrap.

  Linda moved stacks of mail and newspapers around until she found a bundle of file folders. She flipped through the files searching for her meeting notes. Linda’s strategy was to keep everything on her desk. She resisted all of Rayanne’s attempts to put things away or at least put things in logically linked piles. For every hour they spent organizing Linda’s office, they spent two hours running around because she was panicked about not knowing where everything was.

  “I’ll tell them you’re on the way,” Rayanne said.

  She found her coworker Ester blocking the door.

  “Did you know there is a super-hot guy sitting on your desk?” Ester said.

  “Not right now,” Rayanne said.

  “Yeah, right now. He’s has a kinda Prince Charming vibe, if Prince Charming were Ind’n. I’d hop on him.”

  “Very funny.” Rayanne pushed around her. Ester was the person to lighten your mood no matter what happened, but they were in crisis mode. On the organizational chart, Ester was the manager of health programs but she also ended up doing everything related to computers.

  Rayanne had to walk by her desk to get to the meeting room. Ester wasn’t joking. There was a super-hot guy with his actual butt parked on her desk.

  “Hey,” she said. He looked up and her heart bounced to her toes and back. Her thoughts jumbled together in the glow of his gorgeousness. She broke into a huge smile. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, and definitely native. “You here for the meeting?”

  He smiled back. “No. I don’t do meetings.”

  “Lucky.” She pointed at the meeting room, “I gotta—”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” he said.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  He had an amazing smile. Pretty teeth. A surge of euphoria blotted out the frustration of the botched retreat. Maybe this guy was a good sign. Maybe her luck was changing. An actual Indian man her age at the center.

  Please don’t be a jerk, please don’t be a jerk, she sang to herself.

  She set up the coffeemaker, smiling to herself at the sudden jangle of nerves. She hated when she got like this when she met cute guys. Already she was inventing something in her head, and she didn’t even know who he was. Maybe
he was here to inspect something or impose a fine for some other paperwork they’d bungled.

  She filled a pitcher of water, and took a couple of sodas from the fridge. She put a sleeve of coffee cups under her arm, and hurried into the meeting room.

  Arnie’s loud voice rang across the room. Their new board chairman said something about funding resources. He sat next to another new board member, Bernard, who was from the same tribe. Arnie mentioned a government website that any idiot who’d been working for an Indian nonprofit for more than thirty seconds would know about. She didn’t know why she was predisposed to dislike him. He was nice enough. Linda had been friends with him since college, and they’d graduated over ten years ago so she must see something in him. But Rayanne caught a whiff of arrogance around him. He talked more than he listened.

  He stopped talking when she entered the room.

  “Linda’s on her way,” Rayanne said. A few of the board members remained from the previous term. She passed out sodas to the ones that she knew didn’t drink coffee. She set coffee cups and a handful of sugar and creamer packets out for everyone else.

  “There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the way. Anything else?”

  They shook their heads. Linda came in and walked to her spot at the table. She set down a legal pad and a folder stuffed with a jumble of papers. She made a tiny gesture, and Rayanne went over and poured her a cup of water.

  “You introduce yourself?” Linda asked.

  “I’m Rayanne,” she said. “I’m Karuk. Northern California.”

  “Ah, another fish-eating Indian,” Arnie said. “You have more diversity on the staff than I expected.” He smiled like he’d made a joke, but Rayanne didn’t get it.

  “We’re going to get started,” Linda said. Her tone suggested she’d rather be doing anything else. “We’ll call you if we need anything.”

  Rayanne backed out of the room. She tried to give Linda an encouraging smile, but Linda kept her eyes glued to her notes.

  Cute guy no longer sat on her desk. Instead, he stood in front of a map that showed all the tribes in the area.

  He smiled again when he saw her, and her heart thumped against her breastbone all over again.

  “I forget how many tribes are around here,” he said.

  “We serve all tribal citizens no matter where they’re from,” Rayanne said.

  “What do you serve them?” There was a hint of trouble in his eyes.

  Rayanne laughed. “Depending on how this meeting goes, maybe not much. I’m Rayanne, by the way.”

  “Rayanne,” he repeated. She loved the way it sounded coming from him. She stared at his perfect lips, waiting for him to say something else.

  “Is that your Indian name?”

  Rayanne met his eyes. “It is. My father was Raymond, my grandmother was Maryanne. My mother’s idea. You?”

  “Henry.” He offered to shake hands. His hands were warm, his gaze confident. Here was a man with his act together. He held on to her a moment longer than necessary but she didn’t pull her hand back. He smelled like the citrus hand soap Rayanne had put in the restroom.

  “Is that your Indian name?”

  “My dad is Henry. My grandpa is Henry. I’m Henry the third. I sound like a Shakespeare play.”

  “Would you be a comedy or a tragedy?” She wanted another excuse to touch him.

  Henry gave a weary shake of his head. “In present circumstances, I’m both.” He pointed to a stack of boxes behind Rayanne’s desk. “What’s going on? Did you guys just move?”

  Rayanne took in the scene from his eyes. This iteration of the Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center was located in a strip mall on a busy street with a cramped parking lot. Rayanne’s desk, with all the boxes stacked behind it, sat across from the front door. On one side, there were half a dozen tiny offices. On the other side was the space they jokingly referred to as the big room. A true big room could hold a community gathering. Theirs could fit twenty people if you pushed the chairs close together. Part of the suite had mismatched floor tiles. The rest was well-worn carpet. The walls needed paint.

  Rayanne scratched her head. “I guess you could say we’re in transition. We’re in the process of buying a building from the city but it’s been delayed. We have a new move-in date so fingers crossed. Meanwhile, kind of hard to get any work done like this.”

  Henry nodded. “The story of our people. Roaming with all their stuff packed up and no place to go.”

  Rayanne waited for him to tell her what he was there for. He acted like he was waiting for her to say something. Rayanne’s eyes stopped on her desk and the giant pile of work she had to do. “What can I help you with?”

  “What can you help me with?” He smiled again, like they were sharing a secret. Except she didn’t know what the secret was, and charming as this man was, she had things to do.

  “Why are you here?” Rayanne said, impatience creeping into her voice.

  “Oh,” Henry said. He’d been leaning toward her and now he stood up straight. “My uncle is on the board. He drove out from Warm Springs rez. I live here in town. He asked me to meet him for lunch. Arnie?”

  “Arnie is your uncle? Isn’t he kind of young?” Arnie’s nephew? Her estimation of Henry slid a bit.

  “He’s only, like, ten years older than me. My mom’s the oldest. Arnie came along later. You know how it goes.”

  “You plan to get involved with the center?”

  “No,” Henry said, as if the suggestion were absurd.

  There went that fantasy.

  Her coworker Tommy came in the front door. “Rayanne, can I get a check?”

  He gave Henry a curious once-over. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Henry did that chummy guy thing like he was everyone’s best friend. “No way, I’m Henry.”

  “Tommy.” They did one of those handshakes consisting of numerous steps and ending with slapping each other on the shoulder. Tommy was almost a head shorter than Henry and winced before they let go.

  “What do you need a check for?” Rayanne asked.

  “I found a bus at an auction. It’s in my budget.”

  “We can afford it? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It doesn’t run. But it will.” Tommy took a step back and dipped his head, as if modest about accepting applause.

  “If Linda approves it and that goes well.” She nodded back to the meeting room.

  “What kind of bus?” Henry asked. The two of them began conversing in the foreign language of bus operations: make, model, engine.

  Got it. Bus, good. Services to urban Indians, snore.

  “I need to serve coffee and then do some real work,” Rayanne said, to dismiss them. But they were already headed to Tommy’s office, probably to ogle the auction listings.

  Rayanne brought coffee into the meeting. She couldn’t get a clear read on what was going on, but there was a distinct pall over the room, like everyone wished they were elsewhere. Not a good sign.

  When she returned, Henry was outside the front doors, talking on his phone. She hated to admit it, but he made for a nice view walking back and forth. She wouldn’t mind if he stuck around a little longer.

  By the time Henry came back inside, the meeting had wrapped up. Linda had the same hollow-eyed look of distress that she’d had when she’d gone in. She flashed Rayanne an apologetic smile.

  “Henry!” Arnie strode out and gave him a big hug. To Rayanne he said, “I see you’ve already met my nephew. You two are going to be working together.”

  Henry’s smile disappeared. Rayanne wasn’t sure what to think.

  “What are we going to be working on?” she asked.

  “Henry’s being hired as the new project manager.”

  Rayanne’s mouth dropped open. Linda wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What?”

  2

  Henry didn’t miss his gorgeous new friend’s troubled frown as Arnie hustled him out the front door. He had half-hoped they would all have lunch together so he could spend
more time with her. Rayanne with the beautiful brown eyes and curtain of dark hair that she flipped over her shoulder every few minutes. Plus they needed to talk about this crack plan that Arnie tossed at him like it was something they’d discussed beforehand. Since when was he a project manager, whatever that was?

  No sooner had Arnie made this announcement, than Rayanne and the other lady had retreated to an office. His last glimpse was her cute ass disappearing behind a closed door.

  “You going to drive?” Arnie asked.

  “I guess,” Henry said, heading for his van. It had been awhile since Henry had seen Arnie, and it felt weird to have him sitting in the passenger seat, just the two of them. They saw each other at family get-togethers, or at his mom’s, but not like this.

  “So, what do you think?” Arnie asked.

  “What is a project manager?”

  “The center does a lot of things. You help keep them going.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Henry said.

  “Look, I know about your deal with your mom. You need a job. This could be a great opportunity.”

  “Opportunity for what?”

  “You’ve got a college degree. How long have you been out? Two years? You’re not doing anything.”

  “I’m figuring things out.” Henry’s hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “Is that why you asked me to lunch? So you can hassle me about my career?” He bit down on the word career. “Everyone isn’t like you and figures it all out by the time they can stand up and walk.”