Montana Dad

by Jeannie Watt

  No.

  She really didn’t think so. Not yet, anyway.

  * * *

  YET ANOTHER DELAY.

  But Rosalie refused to show her disappointment when, just prior to the county commission special meeting, the chairperson caught up with her in the hall and pulled her aside to say that the ecologist’s report had been submitted too late for the commission to review it. Therefore, the only thing on the amended special agenda was the request for an expansion of the lumberyard parking lot.

  “Are you saying it’ll take another two weeks to get the answer?”

  “I’m afraid so, Rosalie.”

  She reminded herself that showing her feelings in public wouldn’t change the situation, so instead she gave the chairperson a grim smile. “If you don’t have time to review the report before the next meeting, you will be hearing from my attorney.”

  “Now, Rosalie—”

  Her name died on his lips as he took in the expression that had caused her grandchildren to confess instantly to their transgressions on countless occasions.

  “I am serious. I know, and you know, why the commission is dragging its feet. Well, the point has been made, and I believe I have made my point. I am not selling my house to anyone, and while he may want to punish me for that, the fact that you’re allowing him to do it through you...well, that is a breach of public trust.”

  “Rosalie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She smiled at him. “In a pig’s eye,” she said in her clearest voice before turning away and marching into the meeting room to get her usual seat near the back door. She settled in, placing her purse on the floor, and only then did she notice that someone was missing. Will McGuire was not in his usual seat.

  She hoped nothing was wrong. He hadn’t missed one meeting since March, when Rosalie had first started to attend—not even the special agenda meetings, such as this. Some commissioners had made jokes about their permanent audience members a few meetings back, and Will’s name had been mentioned.

  Hmm.

  Probably nothing.

  Rosalie pulled out her notebook. There would be no formal okay on their bridge, but she would still take notes about the parking lot expansion, be an informed citizen...and wonder what had kept Will from the meeting. She was still wondering when she got home but could think of no logical reason why it was weighing on her so heavily... except that his presence had become something of a given and the room had seemed oddly empty without him.

  Tomorrow she’d walk past the co-op and see if his truck was there at the usual coffee hours.

  And if it isn’t?

  We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S UP?”

  Katie’s casual-sounding question wasn’t one bit casual. Nick was well aware from the looks she’d been sending his way that it was prompted by that sibling radar both sisters had. After he’d lost Kayla, Katie had visited a lot, driving up from San Francisco to spend time with him and the girls. And when the one-year mark had ticked by and his life had settled back into a numb routine and he could make it through the day looking normal, she knew—absolutely knew—that he wasn’t anywhere close to being normal. And when she’d asked and he’d insisted he was fine, she always let him know that she was there if he needed to talk.

  So what was he supposed to say now? That he was conflicted about a woman that should be little more than a blip on his mental radar?

  “Just thinking about the neighbor.” Honesty was the best policy. It just didn’t have to be total honesty.

  “Alex?” she asked, in the same way he had when she’d referred to Alex as “the neighbor.” “In a good way, or bad way?”

  “Both.”

  Katie gave a half laugh. “Explain.”

  “Good in that she wants me to come back. Finish the job I started.”

  “Bad in that...”

  He turned toward his sister, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Bad in that there’s something going on with her, and when I pushed her on it, she told me to leave. I’d say I’ve lost some ground on the access front.” It’d been a stupid move, pushing her, but he’d been concerned. The woman brought out his protective instincts. And now he knew that, yes, she was running, and that Juliet Dunlop was her aunt, which explained why his deal to buy the Dunlop ranch went south, but he hadn’t told Katie any of it. He’d promised Alex, and he still needed to make sense of everything.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed. Or maybe you should have hammered this deal out when you first had the advantage.”

  “You think?” he asked in an ironic tone.

  “Why did you push?”

  “I don’t know. It was like—”

  “You saw a problem and needed to fix it.”

  “That isn’t how I am.”

  She made a face at him. “You are so self-aware, Nick. You really put the rest of us to shame.”

  Nick started slowly spinning the dish towel in a threatening way, as he’d done dozens of times as a kid, when he and Cass and Katie had engaged in dish towel snapping fights instead of washing and drying the dishes.

  “Do you really want to go there?” Katie said with a gleam in her eye. Indeed, she had been the quickest of the three of them, able to snap a towel at an exposed leg or arm, then dance out of range before her victim could retaliate.

  Nick let the towel go limp. “No. That would make me a poor role model.”

  Katie laughed. “You are a great role model. Just...don’t butt into the neighbor’s affairs in the future.”

  * * *

  NICK HAD A feeling that Alex was a morning person. Both times that he’d arrived early to talk about that day’s work, the coffeepot had been nearly empty, indicating that she’d been up for a while. Today he’d put his theory to the test, since the sun was just climbing over the top of the trees when he got into his truck with a big thermos of coffee and his lunch cooler.

  Sure enough, Alex was in the backyard, pushing an ancient manual mower over the weeds, and, judging from the amount of territory she’d already covered, he was correct about that morning thing.

  She stopped pushing as he got out of the truck and headed toward him, walking briskly, her expression businesslike. There would be no secrets shared today—and he wasn’t going to push for any. He had another agenda.

  “You’re early.” She pulled the orange flowered gloves off her hands.

  “I thought we could talk before I started work.”

  She tilted her head, her expression carefully neutral as she waited, but he’d seen how her body had stiffened at the mention of a talk.

  “I want to apologize for putting my nose into your business yesterday.”

  “Accepted,” she said in a conversation-ending tone, but Nick wasn’t done.

  “It’s not easy being new to a tightly knit community, especially when you have other...concerns, let’s say.” He’d known that this wasn’t going to be an easy subject to broach, and judging from the way Alex was mentally retreating, he needed to get to the point now. “Your house needs a lot of work. You need to have someone you can trust doing that work. And you need someone you can trust to help you ease into the community. Right now you’re the neurotic lady with the locked gates.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting that someone is you?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Why would you offer?”

  “Because I want something.”

  She let out a surprised laugh. “Let me take a guess. You want me to trust you enough to allow you to drive through my property.”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “And in return you’ll...?”

  He leaned a shoulder against the elm tree that had lost its limb, could feel the rough bark through his T-shirt. “I’ll give you a cut rate on the house
repairs. All of them. Squelch any rumors I hear. Pretty much let it be known that you’re A-OK.”

  “In return you get to use my road,” she reiterated.

  “The ecologist’s report has been turned in to the county commission, and if all goes well, construction will start on the new bridge in a matter of weeks. I don’t want to pay for the crew to go the long way day after day. It hits my pocketbook hard and it shortens the workday.”

  She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to agree to this.

  “You can lock the gate in the evening, after the bridge crew goes home. They don’t need to have the combination.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Then get up bright and early to open it again?”

  Good point. “How about I’ll be in charge of opening it until construction is done?”

  The wind lifted long blond strands that had escaped her ponytail and blew them over her cheeks. She brushed them back. “It’s been a rough couple of months, Mr. Callahan.”

  “I know what rough months feel like.”

  “Yes.” She glanced down for a few seconds. “My rough doesn’t compare to yours.”

  He was about to mouth some platitude, his usual distracting technique to avoid talking about his loss, when Alex met his gaze and said matter-of-factly, “A lot of money disappeared from the place where I worked. Along with my boss. There are people who think I’m involved.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask “Are you?” He swallowed the words.

  “I was dating my boss when it happened.”

  “Ah.”

  She met his gaze dead on. “He played me.”

  Nick’s gut said she was being truthful, but that might be because he wanted to believe her. “And you were cleared?” As opposed to being on the run, which would explain a whole lot.

  “They couldn’t find any evidence that I’d been involved, but somehow, when the guy you’ve dated exclusively for over four months takes off with a large chunk of the company, people have a hard time believing that his girlfriend, who worked with him, didn’t know. And then that ski-masked man showed up in my apartment. I don’t know if it’s related, but the timing suggests it was.”

  Nick drew in a long breath, then exhaled. He understood now why she was jumpy. Guilty or innocent, she had reason to hide herself away. “You know that anyone with a pair of bolt cutters can get past either of your locks.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Thus the dog. I pick him up tomorrow.”

  He shifted his weight, folding his arms over his chest. “I need an answer, Alex. So I can make plans. If I work on your place, I’ll be here while the gate’s open. You won’t be alone. The gate will be locked every night. I’ll handle that.”

  “I...” Alex let out a soft sigh, pressing her lips together as she frowned down at the ground. “What percent will you take off my repairs, and how involved are the repairs you’re talking about?”

  “A big percentage, and how involved do you want to get?” They’d work it out on paper if she agreed to the deal.

  “We’ll negotiate as we go.”

  “Fair enough.” He unfolded his arms.

  “I can cancel at any time.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I know this isn’t easy.”

  “The gate has to be locked at night. That’s my...difficult...time.”

  He hated the thought of her—of anyone, really—having difficulties getting through the night. He knew what it was like to lie awake, haunted by thoughts, wishes, regrets. Alex could add fear to the list. He wished he hadn’t mentioned that bit about bolt cutters.

  “I’ll see to it.”

  Alex stood a little straighter, bringing her gloved hands together. Neither of them moved from where they stood.

  Finally, she said, “Should we shake hands or something?”

  Nick’s lips twitched. “I think we’re okay.”

  She took a small backward step. “Great. I need to get back to my mowing before it gets too hot.”

  “I need to get to work myself.” He smiled, wishing that they both felt good about this deal. “Thank you, Alex.” I won’t let anything happen to you.

  She gave a quick nod, then turned and headed back to the old mower that probably needed to be gone over. He’d see to that some other time.

  Right now he had a porch to build, and later in the day he was making a run to Cooper’s Building Supply. And while he was gone, he’d lock the gate for Alex’s peace of mind.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ALEX’S STOMACH REMAINED in a cold, hard knot as she finished manhandling the cranky old mower over the weeds that pretended to be a back lawn. This was the first step in making the cozy backyard retreat she’d always dreamed of—one where her dog could sleep in the grass and she could relax and read—but she wasn’t able to keep her mind on the matter at hand. Instead, she replayed the conversation with Nick Callahan in her head, going over the deal she’d made. It wasn’t so much allowing people to drive through her place—she could live with the gate being unlocked during the day, while Nick was working on the house—but rather the fact that she’d shared more of her situation, which all of her instincts told her to hold close.

  You had to tell him something.

  True. And by giving him a skeletal overview, she’d set it up so that she controlled the narrative. He’d already figured that she had an issue, that she was hiding out, so what could she do but to explain the situation in the briefest way possible? Hopefully, that would be enough for him to drop the matter, fix her house and then leave her be. Stonewalling would have kept him guessing, maybe even doing a little checking of his own to make certain that she was a safe person to be around, as in not hiding from the mob or some such thing.

  Maybe that was her silver lining. She wasn’t hiding from the mob. She was putting distance between herself and legit investigators, who still thought she knew something, even though they had no evidence, and from whoever had broken into her house. That person had not been a legit investigator. If he had been, he’d gone rogue.

  Whether the guy was rogue or not, she was hopefully two thousand miles away from him, in a place where he wouldn’t come looking. Maybe he’d been a common thief, there for her jewelry and small electronics. Maybe he’d figured out where she hid her stuff, because professional thieves knew that kind of thing.

  But Nick did have a point about blending with the community. She’d messed that up. If she’d just come in and acted, well, normal, then the locals would have...what?

  Forgotten about her?

  Probably. But she hadn’t, and the fact that Nick had offered to squelch rumors meant that she’d botched matters but good in that regard.

  Okay...so this is your rebuilding phase.

  Right. And after a month or two of rebuilding her local reputation, as well as her house—if no investigators or thieves showed up—she’d decide what she was going to do with her future. And in the meantime, she’d wait. Assess. Do her best to enjoy life instead of jumping at shadows. Decide if this place, which was so different from her former home, was where she wanted to put down roots.

  * * *

  ROSALIE WAS RELIEVED to see Will’s truck parked outside the co-op when she took her morning walk, and she was also ashamed of herself for stalking him instead of simply calling his ranch to make certain everything was okay, like a concerned former neighbor might do.

  The problem was that she didn’t feel like a casually concerned former neighbor, and she was too old to kid herself as to why that might be.

  She was attracted to Will McGuire, and she was scared to death that he might feel the same.

  It wouldn’t do. Not now. Not when she was building something she’d dreamed of for years. That was where her energy needed to go—into her dream.

  She’d had a happy fifty-year relationship. Fifty years. She wouldn�
�t change a thing about it. Even though she’d never loved living on the ranch. Carl had, and he would have been miserable elsewhere. He’d been happy, so she’d been happy.

  Did that make her codependent?

  Not really, because his happiness was not the only satisfaction in her life related to the ranch. She’d raised her son and three grandchildren there, and they’d thrived. Even Katie, who’d been her cooking and crafting buddy because she hadn’t been a natural cowboy like the rest of the family, had benefited from the ranch. To the point that she was back on the ranch, elbow-deep in herbs and loving life.

  The ranch had been good.

  But that part of her life was over, and she wasn’t about to go back to worrying about calving and cows, rain on hay or blight in grain. Instead, she’d worry about deliveries being made on time and customer satisfaction. She’d knit and sew and quilt in her spare time, and make crafts with her great-granddaughters.

  She wouldn’t worry about whether the entire cattle herd was about to come down with foot rot.

  Her former life was Will’s current life, and she wasn’t about to go back. So while she might find Will attractive, she wasn’t going to do anything about it.

  The co-op door opened and several men she knew emerged.

  “Hi, Rosalie,” Lester Granger called.

  She smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. Will was the next guy out, and she also nodded to him, glad that she’d had a pep talk with herself. He headed her way, a slight hitch to his gait brought on by the day-to-day rigors of the lifestyle he’d chosen.

  “You missed the county commission special meeting,” she said by way of greeting. “I had a disappointment there.”

  “I heard.”

  She nodded a little too fast but told herself she was doing a decent job of acting casual, as a former neighbor would.

  “I told them I expected an answer next meeting or else.”

  “Let’s hope it’s the answer you want.”

  Her expression sobered. “If not, I will seek advice from my attorney.”