Her lips felt slightly chapped by the persistent wind. “Silly question. I’m just feeling whimsical, I guess.”
“It’s not silly at all. I imagine we would have built forts and had snowball wars.”
She chewed her lip before adding, “Boys against the girls, naturally.”
“I bet you girls would have won. Especially with my sister Breanna on your side.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention her.” The loss must have been monumental. She felt for him. She understood loss well.
“That seems wrong somehow, that I don’t talk about her more. She should be remembered.” His voice sounded honest and raw. She knew sharing this must be hard for him, but he’d said he wanted to be friends. He wanted more. Could she be there for him?
“Do you want to tell me something about her?” When her grandmother was alive, she’d often talked about people in her life who had already passed on. She’d tell stories of their lives, and in doing so, had preserved a part of them. That was a small gift Glenna could offer Broderick.
“She was full of spirit and one helluva leader in the making.”
Glenna snorted. “Naomi is spirited.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Naomi is a rebel. Breanna was more focused, always charging forward, so I figured I better keep up. She made me stronger.”
“Losing someone you love is so hard. There’s no set way for how to deal with it. We’re all different. Losing your mother at the same time is just horrible.” All losses hurt. To death, to divorce, to time.
And therein lay the core of why this offer to start something serious with him gave her such pause. She needed to make him understand that committing to a relationship, even without being in love, wasn’t something to be taken lightly, no matter how much it streamlined their practical concerns.
“We were all changed because of it.” Broderick stopped walking for a moment to stare at her. “I’m so very sorry about your husband’s death. This has to be hell for you, waiting for the paternity results.”
She swallowed, pushing her feelings to the pit of her stomach. “I’m sure it’s difficult for you, as well, not knowing if Fleur is yours.”
“It’s different for me. I understand that.” He squeezed Glenna’s hand.
“Are you trying to ask me if I really think she could be his?” She found it impossible to keep a neutral tone.
“There’s no need for me to ask. The test will speak for itself.” His evasive answer did nothing to soothe her.
“But you want to know if I believe my husband would cheat on me.” That was the question he wasn’t asking.
“It’s not my place to ask. But I do care if he hurt you or betrayed your trust.” Broderick looked at her.
She inhaled deeply, smelling the pine, letting the crisp air steady her. In a small voice, she answered him. Gave him a secret few people knew. “He had an affair three years ago. We worked through the problem with a counselor. It wasn’t easy, but we put our marriage back together.”
“Damn, I am so sorry.” He turned to face her, concern etched in the lines on his brow and at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s dead.” She could barely choke out the words. “I’m sorry most of all about that.”
“Of course,” he said gently.
“I told him if he cheated again, that would be a deal breaker. But I can’t help thinking that if he had cheated again, he wouldn’t have risked telling me because he knew I would walk.”
“And?” Broderick’s head tilted.
“What do you mean? Isn’t that enough?”
He stared intensely at her. “There’s more on your face.”
“If Fleur is his child...it means he betrayed me again. And yet I don’t know how I can let go of her. She’s the last piece of him. I know that sounds all tangled up—that I would have left him for being unfaithful, but thinking of her being his child makes me ache. We had trouble conceiving. I have endometriosis and lost an ovary during an ectopic pregnancy.” She drew a deep breath. Then another. All the pain of the last few years rushed through her.
Broderick reached to stroke her hair.
She leaned into his touch for an instant before pulling away. “I don’t want sympathy. I just want answers.” She cleared her throat. “What are your plans if the test shows you’re her biological father?”
He looked down at Fleur, whose eyes had shut. Her breath was deep as she slept. He smiled at the baby. “I’ll be her father. She’s already suffered enough rejection from her mother.”
“One way or another, she will be staying with our new extended family.”
“Appears so. You’re good with her.”
Glenna smiled as she moved closer to look at Fleur. “I love children. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”
“You can still be a mother, no matter the outcome of the DNA test.”
There he went. Pushing that offer at her again. The one she had no idea what to do with. “I realize that, but I don’t want to discuss it. Thank you for caring.”
He touched her face. This time, she lingered, staring into those eyes. Lifting her head, she closed her own, and her lips found his...
Instantly, she was entranced by the warmth of his tongue, a brilliant contrast to the cold of the air. His hands found her hair, pulling her closer, becoming more urgent...
The world tilted. Literally.
Kota pounced on them, flattening Glenna to the ground. As she stood, dusting off her jacket, she couldn’t help but think how the pup had saved her from herself.
Nine
Losing himself in memories of past winter meals at the cabin, Broderick flipped open the lid of the slow cooker. He checked the status of his family’s recipe for caribou stew. A roll of steam billowed out with the scent of thyme. He waved some of the fog toward his face, breathing in the smell of the hearty meal promising a flavor he found only in Alaska. Comfort food, really.
His personal favorite, and he looked forward to sharing it with Glenna after she finished putting the baby to bed. At the moment, she was oblivious to his nostalgia, sitting on a quilt on the living room floor with Fleur and some activity toy.
His parents would sleep in the master bedroom. The girls slept in the small spare room—a room Fleur would use now—and the boys would sprawl out in the loft. Family time was full of snowmobiling, fishing and hikes, until they came back to the cabin exhausted and famished, leaving a trail of soggy snowsuits, caps, gloves and boots behind them.
This recipe came down from his grandmother. Every time he made the stew, he envisioned his grandma and mother dicing the tomatoes and onions. They didn’t need to measure the broth and spices. Everything was done by eye, and even when his family had become richer than Midas, with a crew to help in the home, his grandmother had insisted the recipe wasn’t falling into any stranger’s hands. And that even if a staff chef attempted to recreate the recipe, no one could cook the stew as well as she could. Broderick agreed.
The caribou stew recipe was a part of their family DNA.
Taking a wooden spoon off the ceramic spoon rest, he stirred the chunky soup, which had been simmering all afternoon, checking the color and consistency. He felt as if someone was staring at him and looked up to find Kota sitting pretty. Those icy blue eyes left no mistake. The puppy was working his charm for a treat.
“Kota, buddy, I’m not sure I’m supposed to feed you table scraps,” Broderick said. “Glenna would probably kick my butt.”
“Yes,” she called out, “I will kick your butt if you mess with my pup’s good manner.”
The pup tilted his head and let out a whimper.
“Yeah, yeah, puppy,” Broderick continued, half amused at her speedy response. “I know it’s not fair. But I’ll tell you what. I do have a soup bone tucked away in the fridge and if your mama says it’s okay, you can have that all to your
self. Right, Glenna?” “After I check to make sure the bone won’t splinter or make him sick,” she called back, tapping a jingling toy, enticing Fleur to reach for it.
Kota kept waiting expectantly, making Broderick feel like the meanest human alive. He checked that Glenna wasn’t looking, and then pulled out a chunk of cooked meat and rinsed it.
Kneeling, he whispered to the puppy, “Our secret. You can have it if you work for it, okay? Your mama says the key to a balanced, well-trained dog is the motto ‘Nothing in Life Is Free.’ So here’s the deal. You do one of your tricks and I’ll give you this piece of meat. Fair enough? Now shake, Kota, shake,” he commanded.
Kota lifted his paw on cue and Broderick felt as if he’d clinched a million-dollar deal. He shook the paw, then passed the nibblet to the dog on an open palm. The puppy took the treat with a gentle lick.
“Good boy, Kota.” Broderick gave the husky a scratch behind the ears before standing, washing his hands and returning to his meal prep.
He scooped up a taste, assessing the balance of game and spices to make sure none overpowered the other. His taste buds all but moaned in pleasure. Sure, it could use a little tweaking, but the stew was almost perfect. Almost. He looked forward to sharing the meal with Glenna tonight as he stepped up his plans to persuade her they could be good together—
His cell phone chime cut through his thoughts.
Leaving the spoon half submerged in the contents of the slow cooker, he fished his phone out of his pocket as Kota trotted into the living area and sprawled out in front of the fireplace a good inch away from the baby’s quilt, as Glenna had already taught the puppy. Glenna promptly pulled two all-natural doggy treats from her pocket to reward him.
Nothing in life was free.
Chuckling and impressed, Broderick looked back at his chiming phone. A picture of his brother Marshall popped up on the screen. Sliding his finger to answer, Broderick scanned the spice rack, looking for black pepper, to kick up the flavor a notch.
He held the phone to his ear, instinctively lowering the volume. A silly gesture, really. Glenna could hear his side of the conversation from her spot a few feet away.
Regardless, he stole a glance at her, taking in the tight-fitting dark-wash jeans and blousy aqua top that suggested the beauty of her curves. She wasn’t paying attention to him, though. Instead, she’d scooped up Fleur and was cradling the baby in her arms with a smile.
“Hey, Marshall. Good to hear from you. Any news on tracking down the baby’s mother? Or the father?”
That last question had his gut in knots, because he didn’t have a clue which way he wanted this to shake down.
“No answer yet on either front, I’m sorry to say,” Marshall said, the sound of a horse’s whinny floating through the phone line. “She disappeared into Canada and not a peep since then.”
Broderick ground more black pepper into the slow cooker, then stirred the stew as he watched Glenna coo to Fleur some nonsensical words that made him grin.
“Damn, who dumps their baby and just disappears? Doesn’t check on the child? Nothing?” He turned around, eyes skating to baby Fleur.
Her round face beamed with happiness and light. All things good and innocent. Fleur grinned up at Glenna, whose face was obscured by strawberry-blond tendrils. A stranger peering in through the window at this moment would easily believe Glenna was the mother. Her attentiveness and empathy manifested in every movement.
Damn. This woman pierced him. Humbled him.
“I don’t have the answer for that,” Marshall said, always matter-of-fact.
“I realize Deborah didn’t have any family to support her when she had the baby. But if Fleur is mine, why didn’t Deborah reach out to me before?” Broderick felt sick at the idea that she would think he wouldn’t have assisted her. Things might not have worked out between them, but there’d be no way in hell he’d let his child suffer because of that. Family over all else. And if Fleur was his, he intended to ensure that.
“Maybe she was worried about the family money and losing her child,” Marshall offered.
“I wouldn’t deprive a child of its mother. I would just want rights—” Defensiveness and anger weighed down his heart.
Marshall interrupted, “I know, brother, I know.” A long sigh filled the earpiece. “But it’s obvious she’s not thinking clearly. And then perhaps she became overwhelmed? I’m just guessing.”
Exhaling hard, wanting to accept that explanation, needing some reason for this, Broderick willed his frustration down a notch. He set aside the pepper mill and sampled the stew again. Hmm...almost but not quite. And as he tasted it once more, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was substituting a fixation on food for his hunger for Glenna, trying to ignore the other appetite that threatened to burn him.
Patience. The key for winning the battle with Glenna and with conquering this recipe. He hoped if he kept at it, he’d match his mom’s skill one day. Was it a small way of recapturing a bit of the people he’d lost? Maybe.
The stew still missed something. He stared blankly at the spice rack, phone pressed hard into his ear. “I guess we’ll never know until she tells us. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”
“No kidding.” Marshall gave a low whistle. “Naomi is working hard to research all legal aspects so we’re prepared, whatever we face.”
“Glad to know, for Fleur’s sake. Naomi’s a fierce advocate.” Thankfully. He had a feeling they needed Naomi’s ambition and ferocity.
Glenna had laid the baby on a blanket decorated with blue and pink polar bears. She patiently changed Fleur’s diaper, making silly sounds as she went. Even from this distance he could see how comfortable the child was. The baby had two mighty advocates on her side with Glenna and Naomi. And he couldn’t deny the protectiveness for the kid building in him. “I’ve wondered more than once why Dad doesn’t put Naomi in charge of the company. She’s a fighter.”
He could practically see his brother shake his head, scratching under the brim of his Stetson. “You’re telling me. Naomi actually asked Dad about a prenup for his marriage to Jeannie.”
“Holy crap,” Broderick said, then whistled softly. “Did he explode?” Naomi had never been shy by a longshot. Their father said she’d come out of the womb arguing, already a lawyer in the making. She always spoke her mind, even in difficult or touchy situations. His sister had a way of seeing the world through Lady Justice’s eyes—objectively and full of reason.
“Not really, surprisingly. He said he understood those prenups were to protect the husband and the wife so their interfering children knew where things stood. And so we won’t have to feel conflicted, he and Jeannie are using independent counsel to set up the will.” On the other end of the phone, Broderick could hear more whinnying of horses. Perhaps Marshall was getting ready for a ride to clear his mind. Broderick could only imagine how chaotic it must be at the family property right now.
“Okay, then. So we have no idea what’s going on?” His eyes slid back to Glenna. She’d put the baby in pajamas. Scooping Fleur up, she cradled the child to her chest, completely unaware of Broderick’s gaze.
Or the fact that he was remembering the perfection of her curves in that bikini she’d worn for their dip in the hot tub.
“Correct. He said it was none of our business. They are adults. And that we all have our own fortunes, so we don’t need anything from them.”
Broderick laughed, respecting the old man more than ever even when, sure, it would have been a lot easier to be in the loop. “Fair enough. Looking at the financials I’ve seen so far, the two companies are fairly evenly matched. I’m actually surprised. We’ve both been so damn busy trying to convince the other we had the edge, we didn’t realize we were running neck and neck.”
Even while he talked to his brother, Broderick’s thoughts were on Glenna and how soon he could get her back into the hot tub. Or be
tter yet, stretch her out on that bearskin rug and make love to her by firelight.
“We don’t have to worry that Jeannie and her kids might try to take advantage of Dad for his money.”
“And they don’t have to worry we’re trying to take advantage of their mom, since we’re all standing soundly on our own fiscal feet.”
Marshall’s tone was indifferent. Broderick knew something was weighing on his brother’s mind. “That’s worth a bit of peace, at least.”
Broderick leaned back against the counter and watched Glenna rock the baby. Fleur burped, then giggled. “Remember Mom’s friend, Christy Shackleford, who married Dad’s doctor? Her two sons were hell-bent from day one that their mama wasn’t getting enough of the old man’s estate even though he’d made provisions for the rest of her life backward and forward.”
“Yeah, I do,” Marshall said drily. “They guilted their mama into sneaking them money under the table while the old man was alive, and then when he died, they took the rest.”
Turning back to the stew, Broderick tasted it again. There. That was right. He closed the lid. “He’d left a rock-solid will, but those boys beat the hell out of things in the legal system. Whittled the estate down to next to nothing just getting them to back off, and the poor woman barely had anything left.”
“Things can get touchy when two families come together so late in life,” Marshall said pointedly. “And I don’t have the past you and Glenna do. You’re stuck up there together with the baby and that whole paternity issue hanging over your head. Watch out for yourself. Okay?”
Broderick bristled as he chose two deep pottery bowls from the cabinet. “Greed is a hungry beast. No matter how much you feed it, it still dies of starvation.”
“Are you saying we should count our blessings?”
“That’s one way to look at it.” He pulled out a loaf of crusty sourdough bread and set it on the wooden carving board. With a ceramic knife, he sliced thick pieces. The perfect accompaniment to the stew.
Marshall paused before continuing, “What’s your take on Glenna?”
The Baby Claim Page 10
