by Cindy Kirk
Letting her sleep seemed a no-brainer. Except she hadn’t had any dinner and, if he had to hazard a guess, she likely hadn’t had any lunch, either.
Though resting was all well and good, a woman who worked as hard as she had today needed nourishment.
Fifteen more minutes, he decided. If she wasn’t up by then, he’d wake her.
In the meantime, he’d grab a quick shower and try not to think about sliding his hand across that bare patch of skin and up under her shirt.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Margot jerked up at the light touch on her arm, her heart pounding. Though the light was off, moonlight streamed in through the window.
She heard Brad whisper her name almost at the same time she smelled the clean, fresh scent she was beginning to associate with him. “What are you doing in here?”
He smiled and sat beside her on the bed. “Waking you for dinner.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“Not long. How’s the headache?”
Margot paused, turned her head to one side and then to the other. She smiled. “No pain.”
“Good news.” When he stood, Margot fought a sudden urge to pull him down beside her. “I’ve kept everything warm in the oven. Come down when you’re ready.”
“You’re a good guy,” Margot called out when he stepped from the room.
“Not really.” He turned and winked. “Although I do have my moments.”
Chapter Ten
An hour later, with her dog resting in the parlor, Margot pushed back her chair and gave a contented sigh. Though she’d just consumed her daily allotment of carbs in one sitting, even the garlic toast made out of Wonder Bread had been, well, wonderful.
While Brad seemed determined to keep the conversation light and easy, at her insistence he’d now gone to pull up the PI reports off his laptop. As Margot knew she wouldn’t be able to fully relax and study the reports with a tableful of dirty dishes, she got up and began to clear the table.
By the time Brad strode into the kitchen with his laptop under his arm, the dishwasher was happily humming away. She straightened from the tabletop, Lysol wipe in hand. “Perfect timing.”
“Wow.” Undisguised admiration showed in his green eyes as he glanced around the kitchen. “You work fast.”
After giving the table one last swipe, she tossed the wipe into the garbage. “I prefer to tackle the tough stuff, rather than procrastinate and feel guilty.”
“Good to know.” He glanced at the garbage can. “Speaking of procrastinating, I’ll take that out while I’m thinking of it.”
“I’ll start a fire. It feels like the temperature is dropping outside.”
The words had barely left her lips when a gust of outside air rattled the kitchen window.
“Storm is coming in.” Brad shrugged. “The forecasters are saying we could get a couple of inches of snow.”
“It’s the beginning of October.” Margot heard the whine in her voice and pulled back.
“Have you forgotten you’re back in Montana?” Brad shot her a good-natured grin. “It’s not supposed to stick around. Temperatures should be back in the lower fifties by Thursday.”
“I like winter. It’s just that there’s so much that needs to be done—”
His hand touched her shoulder and his eyes met hers. “We’ll get it done.”
We.
As he left the room, Margot was once again struck by the power in that simple little word.
Once again, she was forced to admit she was glad Brad was here. With her father gone, facing all that needed to be done before bad weather set in would have been overwhelming. With her injury, she wouldn’t have had the ability to handle the physical labor. And then there was the worry...
Her gaze settled on the laptop Brad had placed on the table. She hoped something in the reports would lead her to her father.
It didn’t make sense that her dad would buy a ticket to New York City. Though he’d always loved the state, his sister—the only one he knew who lived in the region—had died two years ago. Verna never married so it wasn’t as if he had nieces or nephews to visit.
Since arriving in Rust Creek Falls, Margot had called everyone she could think of whom her parents had ever known, no matter where they currently resided. Just because Boyd’s train ticket had been to the east coast didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten off and exchanged the ticket for one to a different destination. Unfortunately, no one had heard from him.
Troubled, Margot picked up the laptop and ambled into the parlor. A low growl greeted her when she stepped into the room, stopping immediately when Vivian saw that it was her.
Vivi’s head relaxed back down while the puppies nursed, gathered close around her. Aware of the dog’s protective nature, Margot didn’t approach the box. Instead she spoke soothingly to the heeler while she focused on getting a fire started in the hearth.
Years of practice made the task easy and quick. In a matter of minutes, flames danced merrily, filling the room with warmth. Margot straightened and stared into the fire, praying that wherever her father was tonight, he was also safe and warm.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Brad spoke softly, coming up behind her.
He stood close, but didn’t touch.
“I was thinking about my dad.” Margot turned to face Brad. “I hope he’s okay. The thought of him being hurt, lying alone in some cold, dark alley...”
She shivered.
Brad pulled her into his arms and held her for several moments. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair, a surprisingly gentle and soothing gesture. “Boyd was going through some hard times but he’s a tough son of a gun. I know he’s pushing eighty but he’s still very capable of taking care of himself.”
“Not when he’s drinking.” Margot voiced her greatest fear. “He’s vulnerable then because he doesn’t think clearly.”
“Even when he drinks, Boyd is nobody’s fool,” Brad insisted.
“How can you say that?” Margot pulled from his arms and began to pace as worry churned inside her. “The man got on a train to New York City. A place where he knows absolutely no one. That’s hardly thinking clearly.”
“Unless he didn’t buy the ticket for himself,” Brad mused.
“Russ thinks you bought it.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Brad said flatly.
Though not a hint of emotion was reflected in his gaze, she knew her remark had stung.
“I know you didn’t.” She closed her eyes for several seconds in an attempt to gain control of her rioting emotions. “I only wish I knew where he is tonight. And why he left.”
“Let’s sit.” Without waiting for her reply, Brad took her elbow and led her to the sofa, bringing a low warning growl from Vivian.
“Don’t worry, Viper.” Brad’s mild tone seemed to soothe the dog. “I’m not interested in you or your mini-vipers.”
“Hey.” Margot plopped down on the sofa. “Be nice.”
“Just telling it like it is, sweetheart.” He settled down beside her and opened the laptop.
Since he didn’t look in Vivian’s direction, the dog soon quit growling, although her golden eyes remained firmly fixed on him.
Margot hid a smile. She’d like to say Vivi was all bark and no bite, but she had a feeling if Brad got too close to those babies, she might nip.
Brad pulled up the reports the PI had been sending him ever since he’d hired the man. As Margot flipped through them, she saw lots of contacts, but not a single piece of good information.
“Why did you wait until August to hire someone?” she asked then realized that was a silly question. Brad wasn’t family and hadn’t been particularly close to Boyd. A better question would be why he’d hired anyone at all.
“Those first
weeks after Boyd left, we all assumed he’d taken off to see his sister.” He could see Margot about to remind him of Verna’s passing, and held up a hand to stop her. “One of your mother’s friends returned from vacation the end of July. When she heard about Boyd leaving and the assumption of where he was, she set us straight.” Brad gazed unseeing at the computer screen. “Everyone had been helping out with the cattle and the ranch as we looked for Boyd, but as the place was legally mine, I moved in and hired the PI.”
Margot sat back, discouraged. “Who has found zip.”
“Not entirely true. We learned your dad hasn’t contacted or visited any known friends.”
“I’ve made some calls, too,” Margot told him. “I can put together a list so we can give it to your PI and the sheriff. That way we’re not duplicating efforts.”
“Makes sense.”
Margot rested her head against the back of the couch. “I’ve reached out to everyone I can think of, but I have to be forgetting someone.”
“Write down any other names as they come to you.”
“I don’t have time to let them come to me.” Margot heard the frustration in her own voice. “Remembering could be the key to finding my father before anything bad happens to him.”
Brad gave her shoulder a squeeze then pushed to his feet. “I’ll get us a bottle of wine.”
“You think drinking will help me remember?”
Brad’s answering smile did strange things to her insides. In the firelight glow, his dark hair glimmered like polished oak and his eyes looked mysterious.
“A glass of wine might relax you.” The soothing tone of his words wrapped around her. “I don’t know about you, but sometimes not trying so hard works for me.”
“That philosophy would never have passed muster in our household.” Margot gave a half-laugh. “Giving 110 percent was the expectation. Nothing less was tolerated.”
“Interesting,” was all Brad said. He returned moments later with a bottle of merlot and two glasses. He handed one to her.
“Tell me about Boyd.” Brad’s tone encouraged confidences. “I know him as a rancher and a poker player, but I’m sure there’s more to him.”
Margot took a sip of the wine and considered where to begin. “My father was married once before, when he was in his early twenties. No kids. I’m not exactly sure why they divorced but I got the feeling his drinking played a part.”
Brad nodded.
“He’d given up on love, or so he thought.” Margot’s lips lifted as she remembered how her father’s eyes would shine when he’d tell the story of the first time he’d seen her mother. “He was back east visiting his sister when he ran into my mom on a sidewalk in New York City. He literally knocked her down.”
“That’s one way to get a woman’s attention.”
“He said she took his breath away.” Margot swallowed past the lump in her throat. Would any man ever love her so completely? “They started talking. He bought her a cup of coffee at a nearby shop. At the time he was divorced, fifty-three years old and a Montana rancher. She was forty-one, never married and an executive with an ad agency in New York City.”
“They couldn’t have been more different.”
“On the surface. But somehow they just fit.” Margot recalled the pride in her father’s voice when he’d told of going to AA and getting sober because Giselle deserved the best. “He stopped drinking. They married within six months. She quit her job and moved to Montana to become a rancher’s wife. Two years later, I was born.”
“Like a Hallmark movie.” Brad took a drink of wine, his brows pulling together in thought. “Does your mother have any friends or family we could contact?”
Margot shook her head. “She didn’t maintain any friendships and her parents were older. They died shortly before she met my father. She was an only child, like me.”
“So there’s no family on her side to call.”
“None. My mom used to say she and Dad were two lost souls who’d found each other at the perfect time in their lives. They were happy together.” Margot sighed. “Truly happy. He was a good husband.”
Margot twirled the wineglass back and forth between two fingers. Yes, her parents had been happy. So happy that growing up she’d often felt like a fifth wheel.
“How was he as a father?”
The glass stilled between her fingers. “Tough. But fair.”
Brad inclined his head but didn’t comment.
“He enjoyed a good amount of success on the rodeo circuit,” Margot told him. “Made it all the way to the top.”
Brad merely watched her intently over the top of his wineglass.
Though she’d long accepted the fact that her father expected nothing less than perfection, a chill traveled through her body. Margot grabbed the cotton throw draped over the side of the sofa and wrapped it tight around her.
Margot took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “His favorite saying is ‘second place is the first loser.’ Taking first place, winning the event, is all that matters.”
“He wants you to do your best.”
“Doing my best isn’t good enough.” Her fingers stole to the horseshoe necklace that hung around her neck.
Brad’s gaze narrowed on her fingers. “Where does the necklace fit in?”
“My mother gave it to me when I was ten.” Margot knew she’d never forget that day. “I got second in the first big competition I entered. On the way home all my dad could talk about was that I should have tried harder, done better. By the time we walked through the front door I felt as if I’d botched the ride completely.”
Brad muttered something she couldn’t make out.
“The next day my mother took me out to lunch in Kalispell and gave me the necklace.” Margot’s heart swelled at the memory. “She told me I’d always be number one in her heart. That doing my best was all she expected.”
“Wise woman.”
“I still don’t feel I’ve had a good ride unless I come in first. Before I fractured this,” Margot tapped the side of her head with two fingers, “I was on track to have my best year since I began competing.”
“You plan to go back.”
“It’s my life. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
As if bored with the topic, he nodded and changed the subject. “Any other names pop into your head while we’ve been talking?”
Margot realized the brief trip down memory lane had jogged loose several names. “I did think of a few from those early rodeo days.”
She leaned close and watched as Brad keyed in the names she gave him and the locations. God, why did the man have to smell so terrific?
“Enough about me,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“Not much to tell that you don’t already know.” He grinned. “I’m an open book in this town.”
“Tell me about your divorce.”
The smile dropped from his lips and a watchful look filled his eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you and Janie split?”
Brad sat back, poured himself another glass of wine. “We married too young.”
“Lots of people marry in their early twenties and stay together.”
He was silent so long Margot thought he might not be aware she was waiting for a response.
“Janie wanted me to make all the decisions then resented me when I did.”
“She wanted you to make all the decisions?” Margot lifted a skeptical brow. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“That’s all? She wanted you to make decisions then resented you?”
Brad’s jaw jutted out and his green eyes flashed. “We argued. All the time. About everything. We couldn’t seem to talk about issues without it turning into a screaming match or her wa
lking out. Then she decided she wanted a baby. She thought it would bring us closer. I said no. I might not have known how to fix my marriage but I sure as hell knew a baby wasn’t the answer.”
“You were smart. A baby would have complicated everything.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The day I signed those divorce papers was one of the worst days of my life. I felt like a failure. I kept asking myself if I’d done everything I could to make the marriage work.”
“I know the feeling. Not about a marriage but I keep thinking I should have tried harder to keep in touch with my dad,” she murmured. “Even though he ordered me to stay away, I shouldn’t have listened. If I’d been a little more available, maybe he’d have turned to me instead of leaving town.”
“It’s easy to look back and say what we should have, could have, done.” Brad gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “But that serves no purpose other than to drive us crazy.”
“I suppose...” She sat down her glass and leaned back, wrapping the throw tightly around her.
“Did I tell you it was starting to snow when I took out the garbage?” He tugged the blanket from her. “It’s time I warm you up.”
“Is this you taking control?” she asked, watching him drop it to the floor.
“It is.”
Her heart tripped over itself. “Won’t we need the blanket?”
His gaze met her and he offered a wicked grin. “Not for what I have in mind.”
Chapter Eleven
Brad wanted to devour her. One greedy bite at a time. But Margot had just finished baring her soul about her father so jumping her bones seemed a little crass.
Not to mention, talking about Janie had stirred up some emotions of his own, making him feel raw and vulnerable. Neither feeling he cared to explore. But kissing was practically a national pastime, so he felt no guilt in pulling Margot to him and sealing her lips with his.
The simple touch of those lips was like tossing a lit match on a puddle of gasoline. His body erupted like a blast furnace and his decision only seconds before to take it slow was forgotten. Slow was no longer a word in his wheelhouse.
