Bright Eyes

by Catherine Anderson

  Not good. She needed to get control of these feelings before they took control of her. Only for some reason, she couldn’t tamp down this girlish sense of excitement. It was similar to the way she’d felt when she first met Robert, and just look where that had gotten her.

  It takes two to tango, she reminded herself. I’m perfectly safe. How likely was it that Zeke Coulter was attracted to her? After slathering on makeup and stuffing herself into a flashy dress that hid a multitude of sins, she could look pretty good under the right lighting. But that wasn’t the real Natalie. Offstage, without all the makeup and glitter, she was a very ordinary woman with an average IQ, so-so looks, a crazy family, and a hectic, boring life.

  She tugged at the shirt she’d filched from Pop’s closet. Why hadn’t she looked at it more closely before she threw it on? It had grease stains on the front. Even worse, her old jeans were so tight at the waist she could barely breathe, a harsh reminder of the twenty pounds she’d gained with two pregnancies. She must be out of her mind to worry about the impression she might make on the handsome bachelor next door. Reality check. Zeke Coulter probably had a little black book filled with the phone numbers of beautiful women. He wouldn’t care how Natalie looked, only how hard she worked.

  “Are you all right, Mommy?”

  Natalie hauled in a calming breath. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just tired from rushing around to get ready.”

  When they reached Zeke’s place, Natalie slowed her pace and pushed at her hair. She wished she’d had time to find a nicer top and put on some makeup. They circled the shop to find Chad and Zeke preparing to take a break. Fabulous. The troops had arrived at quitting time.

  Zeke looked delicious in scuffed Tony Lama boots, faded Wranglers, and a red cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled back over his tanned, muscular forearms. Tousled by the morning breeze, his chocolate-brown hair lay over his high forehead in lazy waves. The sunlight played on his face, accentuating the sharp bridge of his nose, the chiseled slope of his cheekbones, and the square angle of his jaw.

  Natalie took a deep breath and forced away her tension, a trick she’d learned years ago when she first experienced stage fright. “Good morning!” she called brightly. “Sorry we’re so late. I set my alarm, but it didn’t go off.” She sent her son a querulous look. “Someone forgot to wake me when he got up.”

  Chad, who’d just finished rinsing out a paintbrush, dried his hands on a red shop rag. “How was I supposed to know you wanted to come with me?”

  “You’ll know tomorrow,” Natalie replied.

  She forced herself to look at Zeke. Even from across the yard, his eyes had an unsettling effect on her. They were a clear, sky blue, almost startling in contrast to his burnished skin. His expression revealed nothing as his gaze settled on her face, then drifted slowly downward to take in the smudges on her shirt. “You worked last night. I didn’t expect you until around noon.” He gestured toward a shady oak at the edge of the yard. “We were about to take a break. I made some punch. Care to join us?”

  Natalie preferred to stay busy. “Oh, I don’t—”

  “I love punch!” Rosie said.

  Twinkling amusement warmed Zeke’s eyes as he met Natalie’s gaze. “It sounds as if you’re outvoted.”

  Natalie stared after her daughter as she scampered across the grass. Zeke reached down to tousle the little girl’s hair as she bounced by. “How are you this morning, young lady?”

  Rosie spun to a stop, looking adorable in faded floral pants that had grown too short and a pink top with bunnies on the front. “I’m fine. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for everyone else in my family.”

  Natalie guessed what was coming and frantically searched her brain for something, anything to say that might steer the conversation in another direction.

  “Really?” Zeke smiled sympathetically. “Is someone sick?”

  “Not sick, exactly,” Rosie replied. “Aunt Valerie woke up with the cramps. Poppy says a grumpy old bear would be easier to get along with.”

  Zeke’s expression went from inquiring to deadpan. It was a look that Natalie had seen on the faces of many adults. No one, it seemed, knew quite how to handle her precocious daughter.

  “Hmm. I’m sorry to hear she isn’t feeling well,” Zeke finally said.

  Rosie sighed. “She usually gets better in a day or so. Gramps’s hemorrhoids are another matter.”

  Not that, Natalie thought. But before she could interrupt, Rosie blurted, “He’s very forgetful and misplaces things. This morning he can’t find his Preparation H.”

  Zeke’s mouth twitched. “You don’t say?”

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “Mommy and I looked everywhere. Poppy thinks he got it confused with his jock itch ointment and rubbed it on his cro—”

  “Rosie!” Natalie cried.

  Her daughter sent her an innocent look. “What?”

  “There are some things you shouldn’t discuss outside our family.”

  “Why?” Rosie angled an inquiring look at Zeke. “Haven’t you ever heard of hemorrhoids and jock itch?”

  Zeke didn’t look at all certain how to respond. “I have, actually.”

  “There, you see, Mommy? It’s okay.”

  Zeke sent Natalie another laughing look. Reluctantly, she followed him and her children to the shade of an oak tree where he’d set out a gallon-size jar of punch and four drinking glasses. He lowered himself to the grass, pressed his broad back to the gnarled tree trunk, and gestured for everyone to join him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I haven’t gotten around to getting lawn furniture yet.”

  Before Chad dropped to the ground, he put as much distance between himself and Natalie as possible without sitting in the sun. Then, just in case that was too subtle, he scowled and refused to look at her. Natalie’s heart hurt every time she glanced his way. Chad was still furious because he believed she had neglected to phone his dad. Natalie couldn’t disabuse him of that notion without telling him the truth, that his father couldn’t be bothered with him right now.

  Rosie knelt beside Zeke, talking nonstop about things that Natalie preferred she not reveal. Unfortunately, silencing Rosie in chatter mode was nearly impossible. Before the punch had been poured, Zeke knew of Valerie’s recent breakup with her boyfriend, Kevin, and her fruitless job hunt, Poppy’s problem with his lower back, and Natalie’s never-ending battle with her weight.

  “Practically all Mommy eats is nonfat yogurt and celery,” Rosie expounded. “Poppy’s afraid she’ll make herself sick.”

  As Zeke passed Natalie a glass of punch, he skimmed his gaze over her person. “You look just right to me.”

  The mirror told Natalie a different story. Besides, for her dieting was an economic necessity. Her appearance was a tool of her trade. An extra five pounds looked like twenty in a tight, sequined dress, especially under stage lighting. No way was she going to give some inebriated heckler an opportunity to yell, “The show ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings.”

  Zeke slumped against the oak, one arm resting on his upraised knee, his other leg extended. The position accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. In the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the leaves, the furring of dark hair on his roped forearm and the back of his dangling hand glistened like spun silk. He had long, thick fingers, the knuckles calloused to a leathery toughness. It was the hand of a working man, broad across the palm, thick at the base.

  Taking his measure with sidelong glances, Natalie decided he was as different from Robert as night was from day. Robert had his blond hair professionally styled. His manicured hands were as soft as a woman’s, and he had developed a potbelly from sitting behind a desk. No one would ever mistake him for a workingman.

  With a start, Natalie realized that Zeke had caught her staring. She tried to look away, but the magnetic draw of his eyes wouldn’t allow it. For a second that seemed torturously long to her, their gazes locked. Her heart skittered and missed a beat. She couldn’t have moved if someone
had jabbed her with a pin.

  Oblivious to the undercurrents between Natalie and Zeke, Rosie abandoned her punch to chase after a monarch butterfly. A moment later, she returned with her small hands cupped to her chest.

  “Guess what I caught, Mr. Coulter!”

  Zeke smiled. “A leprechaun?”

  Rosie giggled. “No, silly. Leprechauns are only in Ireland.”

  Zeke arched an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

  “Mommy read me a leprechaun story. You can learn lots of things from books.”

  “Maybe someone accidentally brought a leprechaun over from Ireland in a suitcase,” Zeke suggested.

  Rosie pursed her mouth, a habitual gesture that had earned her the nickname Rosebud, which, over time, had been shortened to Rosie. “Maybe, but it’s not a leprechaun.”

  “Hmm.” Zeke frowned and pretended to think. “A hummingbird?”

  “Nope. I’m not fast enough to catch one of those.”

  “I’m a lousy guesser. You’ll just have to show me.”

  Rosie moved closer and parted her hands. To Natalie’s dismay, a toad jumped out, its fat, warty body hitting Zeke squarely in the face. He jerked so violently that he spilled punch on his Wranglers. “Holy shi—Toledo!” he cried. Then, with lightning-quick reflexes, he recaptured the toad before it hopped away.

  Natalie clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Think this is funny, do you?” He angled her an amused look that promised retribution. Then he returned the hapless toad to Rosie’s outstretched hands. “This little fellow eats bugs,” he told the child. “When you’re finished playing with him, turn him loose in what’s left of my garden.”

  Rosie scampered away to do that. Chad leaped up to follow her, barking orders as older brothers will, all of which Rosie ignored.

  “Not there. He needs shade. They live in the mud, dumbbell.”

  “I’m not a dumbbell.”

  “Are, too!”

  “Am not!”

  “No name calling, Chad!” Natalie yelled, but the children continued volleying insults as if she hadn’t spoken.

  Rosie moved through the garden, which now sported more bare dirt than plants, looking for the perfect place to release her captive. “Toads don’t live in the mud,” she informed her brother. “They only burrow into it during the day to keep cool.”

  “Nuh-uh!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  And so it went. Zeke attended the exchange for a moment. “I’d almost forgotten,” he said softly.

  “Forgotten what?”

  “How kids love to bicker. I was one of six. From dawn ’til dark, there was never a moment’s peace. It’s a wonder my parents aren’t bald from tearing out their hair.”

  His friendly, easy manner helped Natalie to relax. She set her glass on the grass beside her and looped her arms around her bent knees. “Six kids? I can’t imagine. Chad and Rosie are bad enough. Sometimes I want to knock their heads together.”

  “Times them by three, and you’ll have a fair idea of what my childhood was like. Four brothers and a sister. I’m the second oldest.”

  “My sympathy is all with your sister,” she said with a laugh. “How on earth did she survive five brothers?”

  “She was the baby. We went pretty easy on her.” His eyes went soft with memories. “Not to hear Bethany tell it, of course. Mostly it was Hank, the youngest of us boys, who gave her a hard time. One against one, she held her own fairly well, giving back as good as she got. I think it was healthy for her, actually. She grew up to be one spunky lady.”

  His expression told Natalie that he loved his sister deeply. “And your brothers, what are they like?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “A lot like me in looks, and in other ways as well, I guess. Jake and Hank have a cattle ranch. They also raise and train quarter horses. The twins, Tucker and Isaiah, are vets, specializing in large animals. I own The Works, a ranch-supply store on the west side of town.”

  Natalie’s dad had frequently patronized The Works before injuring his lower back. Now he leased out his alfalfa fields to neighboring farmers and lived on the proceeds and monthly stipends from his disability insurance. “I’ve been to The Works. It’s a nice store.”

  He shrugged. “It provides me with a good living, and selling ranch supplies is right up my alley. My father is a third-generation cattleman. There’s some truth to the saying that an apple never falls far from the tree, I reckon.”

  Natalie found it interesting that all five boys had pursued professions linked to their father’s. “And your sister, what does she do?”

  “In addition to being a fabulous wife and mother, she recently opened a riding academy for handicapped kids.”

  “What a great idea. A few years back, I saw a television documentary about a riding academy like that. Seeing the joy on those kids’ faces the first time they got in the saddle nearly brought tears to my eyes. It gave them such a sense of freedom. I hope your sister can make a go of it.”

  “No worries. She’s married to Ryan Kendrick.”

  Practically everyone in Crystal Falls had heard of the Kendrick family. They were richer than Croesus. “Ah. No worries, indeed.”

  Zeke smiled. “Ryan’s very supportive. In fact, I think it was him who came up with the riding academy idea in the first place. Being married to a paraplegic, he’s more sympathetic to the plight of handicapped children than most people are.”

  “Your sister is a paraplegic?”

  “A barrel-racing accident at eighteen. Teaching kids to ride is a wonderful way for her to stay active. She’s always loved horses. She was the state champion three years running in barrel racing and had her eye on the nationals.”

  Now that he mentioned it, Natalie vaguely remembered hearing that the younger Kendrick son had married a woman in a wheelchair. “So Ryan Kendrick is your brother-in-law.” Natalie shook her head and laughed. “My, my, you have friends in high places, Mr. Coulter.”

  “Zeke,” he corrected, “and I have plenty of friends in low places as well.” His white teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Enough about me. Fill me in on the Westfields.”

  Natalie grimaced. “Rosie’s already done that. Is there anything you don’t know?”

  He threw back his dark head and laughed. It was a warm, rich sound that rumbled up from deep in his chest. “She did cover a lot of ground at a fast clip,” he admitted. “I suspect I won’t be the first person to tell you that she’s darling.”

  “Thank you. And no, you’re not the first person to tell me that. Usually after she’s just said something embarrassing. Talking is her strong suit. She shuts up only when she sleeps.”

  He laughed again. “What amazes me is her command of English. I can’t believe she’s only four. She gets a few words wrong, but mostly not.”

  Natalie released a long-suffering sigh. “She’s a trial sometimes. I can’t seem to break her of repeating everything she hears. I live in terror of what she’ll tell her teacher. She starts preschool this year.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m sure the teacher will take it in stride. They hear everything. For first grade show-and-tell, I got up in front of my class and graphically described the birth of my sister.” Twinkling laughter danced in his eyes. “As I recall, I left nothing out. My teacher didn’t faint, but she did sit down.”

  “Surely you didn’t witness the birth.”

  “I did, actually.” He rubbed beside his nose. “My mother had all of us at home with a midwife in attendance. My dad tried to corral us boys and keep us out of the bedroom, but my older brother, Jake, and I were slippery little farts. We wanted to see what all the commotion was about.”

  Natalie tried to picture him as a little boy with a shock of dark hair and big blue eyes. Somehow, the picture wouldn’t come clear. It was difficult to imagine a strong, virile man like Zeke being small and innocent.

  His amused gaze rested warmly on hers. “The moral is that you shouldn’t worry so much about what
your daughter says. Most people won’t be shocked. They’ll just think she’s cute as a button and be captivated.”

  The topic of their conversation returned just then, and she was in tears. Chad hung back, looking guilty.

  “Chad pulled my hair!” Rosie sobbed.

  “I did not!” Chad cried.

  Rosie’s lower lip quivered. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yes, he did, Mommy. I’m not fibbing.”

  “So, I pulled her hair. Big deal. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Natalie sent her son a questioning look. “How did you accidentally pull her hair, Chad?”

  Chad’s face flushed with anger. “You always take her side.”

  “It’s not a matter of taking sides. I merely asked for an explanation. If it was an accident, just explain, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  “I grabbed her by the shoulder,” Chad said sullenly. “She thought I was trying to take her stupid frog, and she twisted to get away. Some of her hair was in my hand. I thought I only had hold of her shirt.”

  It sounded plausible to Natalie. She gathered Rosie close. “There, you see? It was an accident, sweetie. Chad didn’t mean to pull your hair.”

  “It still hurt!” Rosie cried indignantly.

  Natalie kissed her daughter’s curls and patted her back. “I know, but since it was an accident, you shouldn’t be mad at Chad. Has your scalp stopped stinging yet?”

  Rosie nodded but continued to whimper pitifully. “I lost my toad.”

  “Uh-oh. That’s too bad. Maybe you can catch another one.”

  “I don’t want another one. I liked that one.”

  “Maybe you can find the same toad again,” Natalie suggested.

  As Rosie raced off to begin her search, Natalie pushed to her feet and smiled at Chad. “It would be a nice gesture if you helped her look, sweetie.”

  “Don’t call me sweetie. I’m not a baby.”

  Zeke got up to collect the glasses. Then he preceded Natalie back to the house. Most of the tomato stain was in the patio area under an overhang, Natalie was pleased to note. They wouldn’t be working in the direct sun.