He was a wonderful father. He'd had some problems disciplining Taylor and Ashley, yes, but he was working on that. It was obvious that he desired what was best for them and that he worked hard to give them a fulfilling childhood and a loving environment. The comparison to her father was as different as night and day.
Pete Bolton had lost himself in the oblivion of alcohol and left the care of his only child to a bitter old woman who demanded perfection and punished anything less with physical violence and isolation.
Heather had tried to bury her tragic childhood and hadn't wanted to resurrect it. Coming to Montana—to this ranch—had unearthed the painful memories. She watched Jessica, so young and beautiful, sparkling with life and vitality, playing with her brothers and thought of herself at ten-—silent, resentful, locked away for hours and hours without human contact, without love.
Feeling sorry for herself changed nothing. That was why she'd never wanted to come here, never wanted to be reminded. She'd put this behind her and moved forward.
But it was good that she'd come, she realized now. She hadn't been as ruthless as that hateful housekeeper, but she'd found herself with some of the same rigid ideals and expectations. She never wanted her children to believe perfection was the only acceptable standard, and Mitch had showed her how to give a little slack—with her children and with herself.
She wasn't perfect. Far from it.
"Watch this, Mommy!"
Heather laughed at Patrick's antics in the water and splashed him back. She was glad that when the kids had asked her to join them in the pool, she'd decided flexibility could be fun.
Without conscious decision, she compared Mitch to her former husband, and sadly wondered why, of all the young men she could have chosen to help her escape, she had latched on to another emotional recluse. Craig had wanted to control her, but he'd never shared himself with her. Since Heather had no positive example, it had taken years for her to recognize how warped their marriage had been.
Months of counseling had helped her get past her own guilt and prevent her from carrying any of the baggage of her childhood or marriage into her relationship with her children. She loved them above all else and had determined to show them unconditional love and acceptance.
Sometimes her own strict disciplinary tendencies frightened her, but she had learned that discipline with love didn't stem from a desire to control or hurt. Getting away from Craig was the best thing she'd ever done for herself—and for her children.
The Silverado appeared on the long drive, and she watched the shiny vehicle coming closer. Patrick noticed the truck and, in his exuberance, plunged headfirst over the side of the pool landing on the grass.
Mitch parked and stepped out, splendidly handsome in black jeans and boots, a dark red shirt accentuating his tan and sun-bleached hair. An odd catch tugged at Heather's heart.
"Hey, buddy!" he said to Patrick, ruffling his wet hair.
"Come watch me be a shark," Patrick said.
"Me a shark!" Andrew called, and Heather caught him as he tripped and fell forward into the water.
"Can we swim, Daddy?" Taylor begged, tugging on her father's arm.
The Fielding trio walked closer. Heather shaded her eyes to look up from her seat in the shallow water. She couldn't see him well with the bright sunlight behind him, until his shadow fell over her, blocking the sun so she could peer up.
Her one-piece suit was as modest as they came, so she didn't know why she suddenly felt embarrassed at his perusal.
"Can we get in, Daddy?" Ashley asked.
"Sure. Go get your suits on."
They squealed and ran toward the bunkhouse. Jessica climbed out and followed.
"Watch, Mitch!" Patrick called. He lay on his tummy in the water, one hand projecting from his head like a fin, and went under.
"Looks like a shark to me," Mitch told him.
"Watch me!" Andrew mimicked, and fell face forward, intentionally this time. Heather helped him regain his balance.
"You're a good shark, too," he laughingly told Andrew.
The girls returned and splashed so much, Mitch had to get the hose to refill the pool. He toed off his boots and placed them and his shirt on the back porch, well away from the play area.
Taylor shrieked as a stream of cold water from the hose hit her, then jumped out of the pool. "Squirt me, Daddy!"
He obliged her and it turned into a new game until the others joined them, the grass becoming so slick and muddy that they all slipped and slid.
Heather found a towel and wrapped it around her hips as she watched the antics.
"Me a shark!"
She heard the tiny voice at the same time Mitch turned toward the pool, and her heart did a flip in her chest. Running the few feet, she saw Andrew climb over the side and hit the water face-first with a splash.
Heather's feet slipped in the slick grass, and she lost her balance. By the time she righted herself, Mitch had reached the pool. Heather smacked into him and he caught her around the waist.
Andrew had regained his own footing and stood by himself, his face wreathed in a grin, showing off his pearly white teeth.
"Andrew Mitchell Johnson, don't you ever swim by yourself again," she admonished. "You wait for Mommy."
His grin faded and he puckered up for a cry.
Heather became aware of Mitch's hand on her wet suit and the warm, damp skin of his bare side along her arm.
She placed one foot in the pool to pick up Andrew, and Mitch helped her back over onto the grass, still gently guiding her, his hand around her shoulder. "He's all right," he said softly. "We were both right here."
She nodded.
"I'll drain the pool every evening," he promised.
She was reluctant for him to move away, to release his comforting hold. His skin smelled warm and salty, like sun and man and. . . pleasure. She really hadn't been all that frightened. She'd seen that Mitch was there ahead of her, and she knew Andrew could stand in the shallow water. Her urgency to reach him had been one of those gut-instinct reactions.
"Let's dry off and get dressed," she said to the kids who had gathered around them. Mitch released her and they stepped apart. "Taylor and Ashley, would you like to join us for popcorn and a movie?"
"Yes, please!" Ashley said with a vigorous nod.
"What's the movie?" Taylor asked.
"Annie," Jessica supplied.
"You'll like it," Patrick predicted. "Mrs. Hannigan is real mean, and Annie gets a 'dopted new dad and mom."
Later, with the house smelling of popcorn, Heather and Mitch sat at opposite ends of the sofa. Throughout the movie, one or more children were either between them or on their laps.
Heather popped more popcorn, wiped up juice and refilled Andrew's sippy cup. He fell asleep with his head in her lap while she smoothed his dark hair with her fingers.
Glancing over, she caught the hot look in Mitch's eyes as he studied her. Warmth spread throughout her body. Theirs was the most innocent of situations. Ashley sat on Mitch's lap, her blond ponytail brushing his chin. Nothing had been said or done to create the aura of sensual friction that arced between them.
Completely uncomfortable with the disquiet, she excused herself to take her son up to his bed. She diapered and covered him before she returned. Ashley had moved to her stomach on the newly carpeted floor between her sister and Patrick. Jessica sat in a rocker, idly brushing a doll's hair as she watched the movie.
The sad-sweet comparison that loomed in Heather's thoughts carved an ache in her chest. They looked like a family here in this house, sharing the evening and doing normal, ordinary things. She couldn't remember one time that Craig had ever lounged on the sofa of their expensively furnished and decorated family room and shared a movie or a bowl of popcorn with his own children.
Heather headed for the kitchen to wash bowls and plastic cups. Mitch carried a bowl with old maids in the bottom and placed it on the counter. His gaze burned into her back as she washed and rinsed the b
owl.
"Is there any chance," he asked, his voice low, "that you might not go back to San Francisco?"
Struggling to focus on her task, Heather turned off the water and dried her hands. She understood what he was asking. He was asking if there was any chance for them—a possibility that they might explore this odd, exhilarating tension to see what could develop. Her heart leaped with the possibility. But she knew it was only fair to extinguish any thoughts of something more permanent.
"I have a job there. A life. I'm going back." She turned, ashamed of the tremor in her voice, and stoked her courage to meet his eyes. "This place isn't for me."
Mitch had needed to ask, had needed to test the waters to see if by some remote chance, she was feeling something for him in return. There was an attraction, of course, a pull between them. But it must be nothing she couldn't ignore to get back to her preferable, more desirable life.
Neither of them had done or said anything that evening that would lead one to think that there was more going on than met the eye. But under the surface, an entirely different communication hummed in eloquent silence.
He'd known what she would say. Imagining the two of them together was unrealistic. She'd said it all—she had a life to return to, one she apparently enjoyed very much.
He wished he knew exactly what he wanted as certainly as she did.
Her lovely golden eyes were still studying him, and for the first time he thought he read regret in their depths. She seemed so self-assured and confident, but was she really having doubts? Second thoughts? Desires? Would it be unfair of him to try to tip the scales in his favor?
Maybe he was a dreamer. Maybe his hopes were unfounded. Maybe this thing between them wouldn't even amount to anything when put to the test. Some things were better in fantasy than reality.
"Okay," he said finally, moving aside so she could place the bowls in the cupboard. He probably imagined the breath she released.
When the movie ended, Mitch herded the twins off" to their quarters. Tomorrow was Monday and he needed his rest.
But sleep evaded him.
He kept thinking about the irony of his situation, and the more he thought about it, the more confused
he became. Trina was an attractive, available young woman who wanted things to develop between them while he shared no similar interest.
Heather was a beautiful ««available woman who stirred his blood and verbally put the brakes on any ideas he might have of developing a relationship. "Verbally" was the key there. Physically, she responded to him. And that was the hope that kept him awake all night.
Ten
Heather kept her promise to Jessica and called the nearby rancher who had been boarding her father's horses. Then she inspected the saddles and tack and found them in surprisingly good condition.
After supper on Tuesday, she approached Mitch as he straightened tools in the lockbox on the back of his truck. The children were playing on the swings and in the sandbox.
"I have a favor to ask," she said, looking up to where he stood in the bed of the truck.
He dropped what he was doing and leaned on the side to give her his attention. His hair and clothing were powdered with dry wall dust. "Sure."
"I was wondering if I could ask you to watch the boys for me for a few hours sometime this weekend. I'd like to take Jessica riding."
"No problem. Name the time."
"I don't want to interfere with your plans."
"I haven't made any yet. I want to work Saturday morning, and Sunday I'll have dinner with Garrett. So any other time is fine."
"Sunday morning?" she asked. "Would that work?"
"That'd be fine."
"It's not asking too much?"
"Heather, you take care of my girls for me all the time. The least I can do is return the favor once."
"But that's different. It's part of our deal."
"You don't treat them like a business deal," he said softly. "You're the best thing that's happened to them in a long time."
His praise embarrassed her, and she glanced aside. "They've come a long way," she said, giving them the credit.
"I'm honored you're trusting me with your children," he said with a teasing grin.
"Just don't ruin years of training while I'm out riding." Her reply didn't hold the least bit of true concern.
"I might turn them into chauvinists before you get back."
"You? Ha!" She'd never met a man with less chauvinistic tendencies than this one. He helped with dishes, kissed skinned knees, bathed children, wiped up spaghetti sauce, and interpreted baby talk like no other. If her husband had shared half of this man's qualities, she'd still be married to him.
The revealing thought shocked her.
He grinned down at her, and something warm and liquid spread throughout her body. Her heart beat faster. She wondered then what his wife had been like, if she'd known what an incredible father he would be to her children, if she'd appreciated him.
This was crazy thinking. Heather arrested her thoughts immediately and backed away from the truck. "Thank you. It means a lot to Jessica—and to me."
"No problem." His smile faded. She hurried toward where the children played.
After Mitch had finished sorting his tools and checking supplies for tomorrow's work, he showered and joined Heather on the back porch.
She was rocking Andrew to sleep, while Jessica read a book and the other kids quietly played a board game at Heather's feet.
"You've made incredible progress this week," she said, referring to the framing and drywall in the new addition.
"Did as much as I could myself," he said. "I could have done the electricity, too, but I didn't want any questions when it's inspected for a new loan."
"I have flooring picked out," she said. "Do you want it delivered?"
"I'll send one of the guys to pick it up," he replied.
"It was my turn," Ashley said to her sister, and Mitch turned toward the squabble. "You took the wrong turn."
"Did not," Taylor denied.
Ashley plaintively looked up at her father.
"Taylor, is it possible you just made a mistake and moved out of turn?"
"Maybe," she said with a pout. She sat up and moved away, crossing her arms over her chest.
Mitch moved to sit beside her. "I sure have been proud of you lately," he said.
She turned blue eyes up to her father.
"You've been acting so grown up and not throwing temper tantrums like little kids do. I've even noticed how you share with the others."
Taylor's arms dropped to her sides.
"I been good, too, Daddy," Ashley said.
"Yes, you have."
Ashley moved over and climbed into her father's lap for a hug.
Taylor observed the two of them, but didn't move toward her father. Heather had noticed more than once how Mitch and Ashley often hugged and held hands, and how Taylor hung back.
He wasn't unaware, however. Once Ashley had scooted back over to the board game, Mitch tapped Taylor's nose with his index finger, and she grinned up at him. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. The sight gave Heather a lump in her throat.
"Mom, can Taylor and Ashley sleep over with me tonight?" Jessica asked, looking up from her book. Heather knew she was missing her friends from California, and sleepovers were one of their favorite activities.
"If they want to and it's all right with their dad," she replied.
"Do you guys want to?" Jess asked. "We can use my glitter makeup. And play Barbie dolls."
"Can we, Daddy?" Ashley asked, jumping up.
"As long as you behave like young ladies and not hooligans." he replied.
"What's a hooligan?" Patrick asked.
"I don't know, but my mother always told me not to act like one." He shrugged.
Heather laughed out loud and caught herself before she woke Andrew. "I'm taking this little guy up to his bed."
"Let's go get your stuff," Jessica suggested.
<
br /> The girls ran toward the bunkhouse.
"That's no fair," Patrick said once he and Mitch were alone.
Mitch ruffled his hair,
"How come you didn't have no boys?" the child asked.
"I would have liked to," he said. "Taylor and Ashley's mother died when they were only two."
"Why don't you get them a new mom and have a boy?"
"That's a good idea," he replied.
"I could teach 'im how to do boy stuff."
Mitch didn't say that they probably wouldn't see each other after the work on the ranch was done and it had been sold. Instead he suggested, "Let's go down to the pond and see if we can catch a frog."
Patrick jumped up with a wide smile. "Okay!"
Mitch had worked on a lot of houses, many of them newer and nicer than this one. But he'd never cared that he wouldn't be the one to enjoy the improvements. This ranch had become more than a job.
And Heather had become more than a client. He watched the boy stride along at his side, the evening breeze ruffling his hair, and knew that when the Johnson family left, there would be an empty spot in his heart.
It was fully dark when Patrick finally consented to allow Mitch to let the frog go back to the pond. "We can catch more," Mitch had promised him.
"You need a bath before bed," his mother said, and accompanied him upstairs.
After washing frog and pond water from his hands, Mitch strolled into the new addition to check the seams of the drywall. Tomorrow the fixtures went in and by the weekend he'd be able to paint.
The accordion doors he'd installed to enclose the washer and dryer still weren't working smoothly, and he spent half an hour adjusting them. "Why, you—" He cussed at the door in frustration.
Straightening, he turned to discover Heather leaning against the doorway, one brow raised in censorship.
"Just the talk I'd expect from a hooligan," she admonished.
Heat rose in Mitch's face. "Sorry, I didn't know you were there."
She chuckled. "Give it a rest and come have some lemonade."
He brushed his palms down his jeans and followed her into the kitchen, where she handed him a glass and led the way to the back porch.
The Magnificent Seven Page 8
