by Leslie North
Heather studied him for a second, and Randy was sure she was going to keep arguing. Then she shook her head, muttered something to herself, and headed toward the house, leaving Amelia and Andy playing in front of the barn.
“Interesting move,” he said under his breath. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have left his small kids with somebody he’d known all of five minutes, but then again, what did he know? It wasn’t like he had any children of his own.
Not like he was planning on having them anytime soon, either.
Except, as he glanced at the two nearly identical blonds reveling in the dirt, he couldn't help drawing some comparisons between the Browning twins and himself and his own brothers. Carson, in particular, was only a year older than Randy. Growing up, they’d often heard jokes about Irish twins. Pondering the childhood versions of himself and his brothers got him thinking about how lucky they had been to have the childhood their parents had provided. He couldn't help wondering if these Browning twins would be so lucky. He glanced up for a quick scan of the property again, taking in the myriad ways the place needed fixing up.
As he directed his gaze back toward the children, he saw Amelia lash out with a chubby fist and pop Andy in the mouth. Andy screamed and went for Amelia's hair.
Without taking time to think, Randy approached the two combatants. "Hey, guys, you two know anything about horses?" he asked, keeping his voice casual as if he didn't care one way or the other about their response. It worked beautifully, having exactly the effect he was going for. Their heads popped up, their impending storm of a confrontation momentarily forgotten.
“No,” Andy said, climbing to his feet and hurrying to Randy’s side. “Mommy says we can’t play with them.”
"Maybe not yet, but someday. You just have to make sure you learn all about them so you know the right thing to do."
“They’re really big,” Amelia said in a low, awestruck voice.
“That’s right, they are,” Randy agreed, taking both children by the hand and leading them back to Honey’s stall. “But they’re gentle as long as we treat them right. And that starts with us making sure they’re well taken care of.”
"Is that why you'll fix the thing?" Andy asked, pointing to the stall's latch. When Randy nodded, Andy's chest puffed up with pride. He gave his sister a knowing look as if he'd just transcended their shared pool of knowledge.
“Kids!” Heather’s sharp voice cut through the scene. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be bothering the vet.”
“They aren’t bothering me,” Randy said, favoring the two little people at his side with a conspiratorial wink. “I was just letting them in on the basics of the horse world.”
“We’re gonna help!” Amelia exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. “We’re going to help him fix the lack!”
“It’s a latch, honey,” Heather said, sounding distracted, her eyes never leaving Randy’s face. “And you really don’t need to do this. I told you, I don't need any help.”
"Sure, I know that," he said, keeping his voice easygoing and dialing the charm in his smile up to the max. "We're just killing time. Truth be told, I don't have a whole lot going on at the moment. I’ve only recently moved back to town, and my vet business isn't exactly booming yet. I tend to do a whole lot better with something to occupy me, so this is probably doing me more good than you."
“Sure,” she said skeptically, one side of her mouth lifting in a wry smile.
"We'll just take care of this real fast, and I'll be out of your hair for the next couple days."
"Next couple days?" she echoed, her tone growing sharper still.
Randy didn't know the first thing about this woman, but he didn't have to be a genius to see that she bordered on pathological when it came to avoiding help. “That’s right,” he said smoothly. “I’ll need to come back and check on my patient. Standard practice.”
“Okay, that makes sense, but I’m not honestly sure I can—” she began, her brow furrowing.
He went on as if she hadn’t been about to voice an objection. "It’s a no-cost follow-up—wrapped into the price of the initial visit." Something told him that finances were an issue, and with the state her new property was in, he didn't see that changing anytime soon.
“Okay,” she said distrustfully, her body stiffening as she wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. “If you’re sure. I don’t want you thinking I need handouts because I’m new.”
"All right, all right," he said, holding his hands up in a mea culpa gesture. "I gotcha. I'll just tighten that latch to keep Honey safe and then take a look at your other animals and be on my way."
For the next twenty minutes, Randy showed the Browning twins what he knew about horses and latches and chickens and ducks and barn cats. He hadn't wanted to come to the Fincher farm to begin with, but when he finally climbed back into his truck, he was in a better mood than he had been in a long time. As he turned a circle and headed down the drive, he tried unsuccessfully not to think about the lie he'd told Heather about all his supposed extra time—and especially about why he'd told that lie in the first place.
“I do have the time,” he told himself, nodding decisively. He didn’t believe his own falsehood, at least not completely, but for the moment, he wasn’t sure he cared.
2
“Are you kidding me?” Heather exclaimed, slamming the heel of her hand onto the head of the faucet and then wincing at the wave of pain that shot up her arm. “Do what you’re supposed to do. Why can’t one thing in this stupid place work?!”
She slapped at the faucet again. Water began trickling out, a begrudging little stream that promised more trouble to come. Not that she should have been surprised. She had been living on her new strawberry farm, “the Fincher Farm,” she said to herself mockingly, for a little over two weeks, and she seemed to have landed in a world ruled by Murphy’s Law. She'd had no idea what she was taking on when she'd decided to buy this place. She hadn't even known how much she didn't know, but she was starting to find out, and at an alarming rate.
“Phone, Mommy!” Amelia called happily from underneath the kitchen table, where she was in the middle of building a fort with bags of sugar.
“Thanks, baby,” Heather said, glancing at the cell phone on the kitchen counter with a feeling of trepidation.
She remembered how much she had wanted a cell phone as a teen. She’d been sixteen before her mother had relented, and it had taken more begging than Heather would have believed possible. When her birthday had come and she'd unwrapped her one and only present, she’d squealed with delight and flung her arms around her mother's neck, feeling as if she had finally been called up to the big leagues, like she'd finally made it.
Her feelings on the matter of cell phones were so different these days that she wanted to scream at her younger self for being such a fool. Now, hearing that stupid ringtone or the vibrate-on-silent humming invariably induced a mild panic attack. She had come to loathe the sound of the thing. And every time she looked at the screen, she was terrified that the call would be from him.
Heather's ex-husband hadn't started out as somebody to be afraid of, at least, not in ways she saw at the time. Then again, she had only been eighteen years old and determined to trade her life for anything else. After her father left, Heather and her little sister had become her mother's singular occupation, and by her high school graduation, Heather had felt about to suffocate. Now she knew she had been so blinded by that need that she hadn't been able to see her ex for the narcissistic, philandering, and sometimes violent man he was, nor had her mother or sister.
These days, all she wanted was to be able to raise her children in relative peace and without that man finding out where they were. Hopefully she could keep from running the strawberry farm into the ground. Or any more into the ground. She had put everything she had left into this place. She had to make it work.
“Not him,” she whispered, shutting her eyes to steady herself before grabbing for the phone. She di
dn’t want her voice to show nervousness, not even when her sister was calling. She was determined never to appear weak again. Ever.
“Hey, lady,” Eva was saying before Heather could even say hello. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to answer. Are you screening your calls?”
"Come on, Eva," Heather said shakily, unnerved by how close to the mark her sister was hitting. "It's the munchkins. You know how that is."
“Of course.” Eva laughed easily, only slight static testifying that the two were a thousand miles apart. “And how are our little jam moguls?”
"Not moguls yet," Heather said with a chuckle of her own. "Why, did you have some good news for me?"
“Also not yet, but you know that I tend to get what I want,” Eva said matter-of-factly.
Heather had to laugh outright at that. Her little sister, still the baby of the family at twenty-three, was nothing if not persistent. Eva worked at a marketing firm in San Francisco, and Heather had the impression she was rising fast. Currently, Eva’s mission was to help Heather land a strawberry contract to secure her future and that of the twins. It hadn't happened yet, but Heather was hopeful. It was never wise to count Eva out. She laughed harder at the memories the thought conjured. “Yes,” she said, “I remember.”
“Hey, what’s with you, Heather?” Eva asked, taking the conversation in a different direction in a sudden change of mood. “You sound funny.”
“I told you,” Heather sighed, sobering. “It’s the munchkins.”
“Sure, I know, but—is it Brad?”
Even the name sent a chill through Heather, and for a wild second, she was sure Eva could sense her disquiet all the way from San Francisco. On the long list of stressors she didn't want to think about, Brad was at the top. While she didn't want the kids around him, not with the level of violence she'd seen in her ex toward the end, she didn't want to talk badly about him in front of them, either. They deserved a positive environment, especially after everything they'd been through the last year.
“We might talk about it later,” she said, careful to keep her voice cheerful and as normal as she was able. “But not right now, okay?”
"But that's the problem, buddy," Eva probed. "With you, it's never the time to talk about it, and at some point, you're going to have to. You can't just muscle your way through."
"Eva, now is not the time," Heather insisted, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to build in her eyes. She looked out the kitchen window, desperate for any kind of distraction that might help her hold it together. Seeing Randy McCall's truck coming to a stop between the house and the barn, she rolled her eyes at her feeling of relief. Under any other circumstances, she would likely have been irritated to see him again so soon, follow-up or no follow-up. As it was, she considered his visit to be fortuitous timing.
“But, Heather—” Eva said, the first signs of annoyance starting to show through.
"I know," Heather interrupted. "We will talk about it, I promise, but I can't right now. The vet just pulled up to do a follow-up exam on the horse."
“On the what?” Eva sputtered. “When did you get a horse?”
"We'll talk later," Heather said hurriedly. "Gotta go. Love you, sis." She hung up the phone and turned to scoop up her kids—who should have been on the floor by her feet. Instead, they were racing each other to the front door. Andy’s chubby hand was outstretched and reaching for the doorknob.
“Andy!” Heather shouted, her pulse quickening. “Stop right there, mister. You know you aren’t supposed to answer the door. That’s Mommy’s job.”
"It's Horse Guy," Amelia said as if that in itself was sufficient explanation. She and Andy were looking at Heather as if she were insane, and for a bizarre moment, she had the distinct impression that they were the adults and she was the child. Then the knock on the door came, and all attention went back to their visitor.
Heather hurried to the door and flung it open, hoping that she didn't look as much of a mess as she felt. She wasn’t in the habit of dressing up for doctors’ visits, but the vet had a certain movie-star quality that she couldn’t ignore. Not wanting to care about her appearance didn’t stop her from checking the mirror hanging in the hall on the way to the door.
"Hello, Miss—" he started to say, his hat in his hand and a twinkle in his blue eyes. He grinned down at the twins, and Heather couldn't help noticing what a contagious smile he had. She'd heard plenty from Eva about all the sexy cowboy types she was likely to come across in Montana but had shrugged the idea off as nonsense. Now, looking at Randy McCall for the second time, she could see what all the fuss was about. Not that she wanted to. Sexy men, along with all the trouble they brought with them, were the last thing she wanted on her already overfilled plate.
“Nope,” she interrupted him, probably more severely because of her own wayward thoughts. “I told you, don’t call me Miss anything. It’s just Heather. Please.”
“That’s right,” he nodded, seemingly unfazed by her abruptness. “I completely forgot. My mamma raised me to call everyone ma’am and sir from the time I learned to talk. Guess it’s a hard habit to break.”
“Sure,” she said, her cheeks growing hot. Hearing him mention his mother and his chivalrous upbringing made her feel a little bad for coming down on him so hard. “That makes sense. You’re here to see Honey?”
“That’s right,” he nodded, chuckling when Andy and Amelia began cheering with delight. “And to take a quick look at your other animals.”
“And to fix things?” Andy asked anxiously, tugging at the leg of Randy’s pants. “Will we fix more things?”
“No, Andy,” Heather said firmly, shooting her a son a look meant to stop him before he pushed any further. “He’s only here for the animals.”
“Well, now, I’m glad you brought that up, buddy,” Randy said, looking at Heather and speaking with a pointed expression that Heather didn’t care for at all. “I wanted to talk about that with your mom.”
“Talk about what, exactly?” she asked wearily, although she thought she knew where he was going with this. She knew what her answer would be, too. She wasn’t a charity case, no matter what other people might think.
“I was kind of looking things over the last time I was here, and I noticed that some things have kind of fallen by the wayside over the years. Farms like this are hard to maintain at the best of times, let alone after a decade of the fields being leased out and the house left empty.”
“I know,” she said, trying not to sound defensive and failing miserably. “I’m dealing with it, believe me. It’s just going to take some time.”
“It sure is,” Randy agreed. “Things like this take a lot of work. That’s why I’d like to offer my help. Growing up on a ranch, I’ve got a bucketload of experience with this type of thing. I’d be more than happy to lend a hand from time to time. You’d be doing me a favor, actually. Help keep me busy.”
“Can he, Mommy?” Amelia said breathlessly. “We’ll help!”
“More latches!” Andy shouted, stomping his little feet. Randy looked down at both of them, that same darned smile plastered across his face, and Heather felt her impatience about to boil over.
As a general rule, neither of her children took easily to strangers. They'd developed a healthy amount of stranger-danger sense as babies, and the volatility in their family home had ensured that their reticence with strangers stayed strong. She couldn't remember ever seeing her munchkins accept someone as quickly and completely as they had Randy. Instead of encouraging, she found it only aggravated her further. She didn't know this man from Adam, but she’d bet he was the type who could charm just about anyone he met.
As far as Heather was concerned, she and her family were not going to be roped into his fan club. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. McCall—” she began, taking both children by the hand.
“Please, just Randy, okay? First-name basis, right?” he said, turning that megawatt smile on her. She had a momentary impression that he looked
nervous, but she shrugged it off as a product of her own imagination.
It was time to put her foot down. “Fine. That’s very kind of you, Randy, but I can’t possibly accept. I’m sure you’re far busier than you’re letting on, and this whole farm thing is something I want to tackle with my family—and my family alone. It’s going to be our little project.”
The quick glance he shot first at her kids and then at her told Heather that Randy in no way considered the project small, nor was he likely to think that she and a pair of three-year-olds were going to be able to pull it off. She steeled herself, preparing to hear him tell her all the reasons why she was being ridiculous.
Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and glanced toward the barn. “Whatever you say, Heather. I respect your determination. Just know that the offer for help is always open. It’s important for people to stick together, as my grandfather always used to say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get started with the patient. Mind if the kiddos tag along?”
She wasn't entirely sure that she didn't mind, but she also wasn't up to facing a barrage of heartfelt pleas. With some hesitation, she nodded.
“His grandfather?” she whispered to herself in disbelief as she watched the unlikely trio saunter away. “Is he serious with that stuff?” Except that, burgeoning cynicism aside, she thought he probably was. Perhaps there was some substance to Mr. Too-Good-to-Be-True after all.
Too bad it didn’t matter. Nor did it matter how much she might need his help. She wasn’t going to accept it. She simply couldn’t. After everything she had been through with Brad, all she had done to get away, she wasn’t ever going to allow herself to depend on any man. She’d be self-sufficient from here on out.
