by Cindy Kirk
“He’s settled and content.” Margot tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. She wasn’t sure why that last word continued to irritate rather than soothe.
Shouldn’t a good daughter be happy her father was content? But she knew what scraped her heart raw was the impression the postcard had given that Boyd didn’t care how the months of silence had affected her or his friends. Even Brad had been worried.
“I realize I said this when you told me about the postcard earlier, but none of this makes sense.” Leila lifted a hand with perfectly manicured nails and let it drop. “It almost sounds as if your father just wanted to get away and start fresh somewhere new.”
It was a possibility. Margot had considered so many possibilities in the past couple of days she refused to speculate further. Any of the scenarios could be the truth, or Boyd’s actions could be attributed to something else entirely.
“His behavior is a complete mystery to me, Leila. Who moves away from the only home they’ve ever known when they’re nearly eighty? Who leaves their family and friends behind as if they don’t matter? As if they never mattered?” Margot’s voice rose and cracked. She clamped her mouth shut.
Leila inclined her head. “What did the sheriff say when you told him?”
“Not much. He thanked us for letting him know.” Margot pressed her lips together. “It was obvious he was angry. Sheriff Christensen spent a lot of money and resources looking for my dad.”
“Hang in there, sweetie.” Leila reached across the table and gave Margot’s hand a squeeze. Her eyes were filled with sympathy. “You’re still worried about Boyd, aren’t you?”
Margot nodded. “Not like I was before the postcard came, but yes. Brad has kept the PI he hired on the case. He says we’ll keep looking until we find my dad.”
“We?”
“It’s just a figure of speech.” Margot raked back her hair from her face with her fingers, expelled a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on with me and Brad. He—he doesn’t seem to want to make love to me. We kiss. We hug. But he stops it at that. Maybe I just don’t appeal to him in that way anymore.”
“Not a chance.” Leila’s admiring gaze settled on her. “If we both weren’t straight, I’d be jumping you.”
Margot laughed. She had to admit she’d dressed this morning with special care, pulling on her favorite skinny jeans and a clingy royal blue sweater, hoping to tempt Brad—not Leila.
Leila tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe you could—”
Before her friend had a chance to offer any words of wisdom, the back door scraped open. Brad burst into the room.
He’d been out checking cattle when Leila had arrived and Margot hadn’t seen him all morning. Though a bit dusty and windblown, he looked delectable in worn jeans and a sturdy jacket.
“I think I have another student lined u—” He paused and whipped off his cowboy hat. His gaze lingered on Margot for a second before he smiled at Leila. “Margot mentioned last night you might drop by today. How’ve you been?”
“I’m great. Heading back to Atlanta tomorrow.” Leila pushed back her chair and stood. “Actually I was just leaving. Walk me to the door, Margot?”
“Don’t hurry off on my account,” Brad protested. “I can get lost. Give you two ladies your space.”
“Thanks, but I promised my sister I’d stop over. The visit will give me one last chance to kiss and coo over my new niece.” Her gaze met Brad’s. “Take care of my friend while I’m gone.”
His gaze never wavered; the look in his eyes was as much a promise as his words. “Count on it.”
After the briefest of detours to show Leila the puppies, which she dutifully admired, Margot walked her friend outside.
“Don’t worry about the sex,” Leila whispered in Margot’s ear on the porch, hugging her tight.
“What?”
“From the look in Brad’s eye, your sexual fast is about to come to an end.”
* * *
Brad paced the kitchen while he waited for Margot to return from bidding Leila farewell. Though he’d been ready to take things to the next level physically on Wednesday, those plans had been shot to hell because of the postcard.
If Boyd was here, Brad would kick him nine ways to Sunday for putting that sadness in Margot’s eyes. He knew the old coot cared about her, but Boyd’s actions hadn’t showed any love, much less respect, for his only child.
Several times in the past few days when Brad had kissed Margot, he’d sensed she wanted more. Hell, he’d wanted more, too. But Brad couldn’t recall ever feeling so protective of someone. Sometimes he felt like Viper, standing guard, determined not to let anyone or anything hurt Margot...and that included him.
Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. It had seemed to him that moving on her so quickly would be taking advantage of someone whose emotions were in a tailspin.
He’d seen the look of devastation in her eyes when she’d told him the postcard was addressed to him, not her. Brad had found himself going to the mailbox every day hoping a letter or postcard from Boyd to Margot would have shown up in the mail by now.
Each time she mentioned moving out, he’d been able to change her mind. How could he take care of her if she wasn’t here?
“Can I tempt you with a cup of hot cocoa?” she asked when she strolled back into the kitchen, looking tempting in tight-fitting jeans and a V-necked sweater that made his mouth grow dry. “I made some for Leila and me. With the chill in the air, it really hit the spot.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” Brad quit pacing. He tried, he really tried to avoid looking at her chest. Was it just his imagination or had her breasts grown even larger in the past couple of days? He blew out a breath and focused on her face. For a second those full, sensual lips distracted him before Brad focused on her beautiful green eyes. “So like I was saying before, ah, I may have another student for you. Jilly is eight. I ran into her dad at the General Store this morning. He sounded very interested.”
Margot leaned back against the countertop, making her chest stick out even farther. Or so it seemed to Brad.
Focus, he told himself. Focus on business.
“Jilly?” Margot shook her head. “I don’t know any Jillys. Who is her father?”
Brad gave her Roger’s full name but could see by her blank expression that the name wasn’t familiar. “I gave Rog your cell number. I hope that’s okay.”
“No problem,” she said, those sensuous full lips curving up. “I mean it’s not like you’re posting my number on the bathroom wall at the gas station...or on the internet.”
“I’d never do that,” he hastened to assure her.
“I know you wouldn’t.”
Why did he get the feeling she was teasing him? That was okay. It was good to see her smile. “Rog said he’d have his wife call and set it up. Her name is Shelley.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you pumping up my business.” She adjusted her sweater and heat shot straight to his groin. “I really enjoyed my time with Sierra yesterday.”
“You’re a good teacher. You not only have the knowledge, you have a way with kids.” Brad had watched her work with the girl. Though he wasn’t always able to hear what Margot said, he saw how the child responded to her. “That’s what I told Roger.”
She inclined her head, a question in her eyes.
Heat spiked up his neck. “I watched you work with Sierra for a few minutes.”
“Next time, if you have a few minutes, come over and join us,” she said. “I can always use an extra hand.”
“Oh,” he teased, “is that what I am to you? An extra pair of hands.”
“You do have nice hands.” She grinned. “And, if I’m remembering correctly, some stellar moves.”
She seemed surer of herself today and much happier. Or mayb
e that was hopeful thinking on his part. Still, the warmth of her smile wrapped around him and he let himself bask in the glow for several moments before getting down to business.
“Speaking of your new business venture...” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the smoothest transition but the way she looked in that sweater was creating havoc in his brain and in other parts of him, as well.
A dimple he hadn’t even known she had flashed in her left check. “I thought we were talking about my teaching skills.”
“Whatever.” Brad waved a dismissive hand. This wasn’t the time to split hairs. He had something to ask her and the words were burning a hole in his tongue. “It’s time we celebrate the successful start of your new business enterprise.”
He paused. Had he just said those same words or...? He pulled his gaze from her chest.
She looked amused. “One student is not a successful start to any business.”
“Two,” he reminded her.
She brought a finger to her mouth and his own went dry. “What do you have in mind?”
For a second, he went blank. Then he rallied.
“A night in Kalispell.” Though he couldn’t read her reaction, he continued on. “It’s Glacier Jazz weekend.”
As Margot had grown up in the area, she’d be familiar with the yearly event that featured bands and guest artists performing everything from jazz to ragtime. The event was a big deal in the entire region.
She studied him for a long moment.
Brad began to sweat. When he’d first decided to suggest the outing, it was with the attitude that he didn’t care one way or the other about going. But now he realized just how much he wanted her to say yes.
“Sounds like fun,” she said in a light tone.
Without giving himself a chance to back down, he plunged forward with the ferocity he’d once shown on the football field. “My mother has a friend in Kalispell who runs a B&B. She has a room open tonight. We could spend the night and drive back tomorrow.”
Margot hesitated for only a second but it was long enough.
“It’s no problem. I can cancel.” He should have known better than to bring it up. After all, it had been less than a week since her fainting episode and only a few days after that damned postcard had knocked her world on its axis.
“No. Don’t cancel.” Margot spoke hurriedly, as if he had the proprietress on the phone and was ready to give the room away. “I was just wondering what we’d do about Vivian and the puppies.”
“I’ve got that covered.” When he’d decided to ask Margot if she wanted to head to Kalispell, Brad had tried to cover all bases. “I told my father we were thinking about going and he said Jesse could check on the cattle. My dad will take care of Viper, er, Vivian, and the pups.”
Margot frowned. “That seems an awful lot to ask of your dad and brother.”
“Not at all.” Brad waved away her concerns. “They were excited to help us out.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Did you see how Viper took to my dad?” Brad asked Margot later that afternoon as they pulled up in front of a massive home in the East Side Historic District in Kalispell. “Not a single growl. Dad said if we wanted to stay longer, just to let him know.”
“That’s nice of him,” Margot murmured. For this evening, the last thing she wanted to think about—or discuss—were fathers, even Brad’s very nice and very helpful one.
He shut off the engine and for a second they simply sat in the truck, gaping at the home in front of them, the one where they would be spending the night.
The massive structure, built sometime in the early twentieth century, featured a steep roof with several tall chimneys and a dramatic curved porch made out of native rock.
“Wow.” Margot couldn’t take her eyes off the home. “The place looks amazing.”
“Let’s hope the inside is equally amazing.”
Thunder crackled overhead and the air was thick with moisture. Though the yard seemed to go on forever, the walk to the front of the house was relatively short by country standards. Yet the wind had a bite. Margot buttoned up her wool coat, hoping she wouldn’t regret not bringing her down-filled one instead.
Brad took their overnight bags from the back seat of the truck, and when she reached for hers, he held on tight.
When she looked at him quizzically, he winked. “At least let me look like a gentleman.”
“If you insist,” Margot said, but sprinted up the steps when they reached the porch and opened the screen door before he had a chance.
She shot him a triumphant grin and he chuckled.
“Mrs. Driscoll,” Brad said easily as the middle-aged proprietress greeted them at the door. “It’s nice to see you again. Thanks for putting us up.”
“It’s my pleasure. Please call me Debbie.” The woman was somewhere in her fifties, almost as round as she was tall with brown hair streaked liberally with gray. But it was her bright blue eyes and welcoming smile that Margot found mesmerizing. “Welcome to the Rogers House.”
She glanced curiously at Margot when Brad made the introductions. “Why, you must be Giselle and Boyd’s daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Margot stared curiously at the woman. “Did you know my parents?”
“My husband, Gene, he’s been gone three years now.” The woman’s eyes grew misty for a second before she blinked the moisture away. “Gene knew your father quite well. They shared a love of travel.”
Travel? Margot couldn’t recall the last time her father had left the state before he’d gotten on that train in July. She felt embarrassed for the woman. Debbie had obviously gotten her dad confused with someone else.
“Over the years, my husband and I would run into your parents at various events in Rust Creek Falls that we attended.” The older woman’s voice held a twinge of nostalgia. “I moved here after high school, got a job and fell in love with an older man. Your mother and I had the older-man thing in common.”
Margot simply nodded, hoping Debbie would let the subject of her father drop. She soon realized she needn’t have worried. As they moved deeper into the lovely home with its gleaming hardwood floors and beautifully woven rugs, it was apparent that the proprietress had a house filled with guests and lots to do.
Brad’s palm rested against the small of her back as they climbed the steps to the second floor.
Debbie stopped in front of a heavy oak door, a metal key in her hand. Her gaze shifted between Brad and Margot. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”
The hand pressed against Margot’s spine flexed. She supposed she could have told the woman it was none of her business, but there was motherly concern in the blue eyes that gazed at her, not censure.
“It feels as if I’ve known Brad forever.” Margot kept her tone light, hoping Debbie didn’t notice she hadn’t really answered the question. It was too complicated to explain that she and Brad weren’t seeing each other, not in the traditional sense anyway.
“I had to wait for her to grow up a bit,” Brad said with a hint of gallantry. “Being the older man has its downfalls. You understand.”
The two lines of worry between Debbie’s brows disappeared. She flashed a smile and matching dimples in her cheeks winked. “Oh, I do indeed.”
“I put you in our blue room.” Debbie unlocked the door and handed Brad the key, then stepped back to let them enter.
The room Debbie had given them was aptly named. It was awash in shades of blue, from tiny bluebells in the vintage wallpaper to a hand-stitched quilt with a blue wedding ring pattern. Like the downstairs, the hardwood floors were polished to a rich gleam. A large circular rug covered part of the floor and lace curtains with old-fashioned pull shades for privacy, hung at the two large windows.
Fresh flowers spilled from a decorative blue pitcher on the dresse
r and brought the light fragrant scent of spring into the room.
“This is a gorgeous room.” Margot spoke almost reverently, sliding her fingers across the top of the antique Hepplewhite dresser.
Brad nodded his approval.
“I’m glad you approve.” Pride filled the woman’s voice. “We like to make things nice for our guests.”
Leaving Margot’s side only long enough to place their overnight bags on the luggage rack that had been conveniently set out, Brad returned and placed a proprietary hand on Margot’s shoulder.
The light that flared in Debbie’s eyes told Margot the woman had a good grasp on everything going on in her B&B.
“I realize you’ll be heading over to the jazz festival,” Debbie said, moving toward the door, “but I want to make you aware that we’ll be serving complimentary appetizers and wine, as well as non-alcoholic beverages, in the downstairs parlor in fifteen minutes. The bell will ring when they’re ready. We’d love for you to join us.”
“We’ll try. Thanks for—” Brad paused and gestured to the room “—all this.”
The grandmother’s clock on the dresser began to chime and Debbie gave a little yelp. “Rosa will have my neck if I’m not down there to help her get the food out.”
The woman was gone in a flash, leaving Brad and Margot alone.
“Nice place.” Brad’s gaze flickered to the bed before returning to Margot.
“Cozy,” Margot murmured as she drew back the curtains to look out the window. “It’s raining.”
“The forecast was for clear skies all weekend.” Brad joined her, standing close as they watched sheets of rain sweep across the streets. The intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapped around her. “Rain wasn’t even mentioned.”
“Better than snow.” Margot shivered, suddenly conscious of his nearness and the desire bubbling up inside her.
His arm went around her almost immediately. “Cold?”
“Not really.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder and contentment seasoned the desire. “Just a reaction to seeing the rain.”
