“How about you, Brooke?” Eve said. “Pancakes?”
“With blueberries?” Brooke asked.
“We don’t have any blueberries,” Connor said. He hurried to add, “But I’ll get some for next time.”
Brooke scrambled toward the edge of the bed. “Come on, Sawyer. Let’s go get dressed.”
Sawyer scuttled after her on all fours.
“I’ll come help,” Connor said.
Brooke stopped short. “I want Aunt Eve to help.”
If she’d been dressed in decent pajamas, Eve would have gotten out of bed and followed the little girl to her room. But she wasn’t about to stick so much as a naked toe out from under the covers while Connor was standing there watching. “I need to get dressed first.”
She should have known better than to try reasoning with a four-year-old.
Brooke stomped her foot. “No. Come now.”
Sawyer tried stomping his foot but stumbled sideways instead. He ended up clapping his hands. “Come now!”
Eve realized her modesty was going to have to suffer. She shoved the sheet aside and heard Connor’s soft gasp as she threw her bare legs out from under the covers. She had a warm robe, but she hadn’t unpacked it last night. She hadn’t unpacked much of anything, which was why she’d gone to bed in a T-shirt. She reached for her jeans, which she’d left in a pile on the floor, stepped into them, and pulled them on, aware that Connor was standing frozen on the other side of the room.
When she stood upright, she saw his gaze fall to her chest, where her areolas were clearly visible through the thin cotton. Eve felt a hot flush working its way up her throat. She didn’t bother trying to find her socks and boots, just ran to the doorway, grabbed one hand of each child, and hurried them across the hall toward their bedrooms.
Over her shoulder she said, “Why don’t you get those pancakes started?”
Eve sent the two washed and dressed children to the kitchen ahead of her, telling them to help their father set the table while she got dressed. When she arrived in the kitchen ten minutes later, she found Connor dressed, the stove cold, the table not set, and both children sitting on stools at the breakfast bar with half-filled glasses of orange juice in front of them.
She stopped short. “What happened to breakfast?”
“I don’t have any food in the house,” Connor admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t count on having to cook. I figured the kids and I could eat at the Main Lodge with everyone else.”
Eve realized that was the sort of decision a man without a wife might make. But she was here now. There was nothing she could do this morning, but she was going to have a talk with Connor about how a family sat down to breakfast.
They put on jackets and took the short walk along a stone sidewalk to the Main Lodge, a log building where breakfast was being served to guests at the ranch. Connor held the door open as the two children skipped inside. Eve felt the heat of his hand when he laid it on the small of her back as they entered and walked more quickly to separate herself from his touch.
Distance, she told herself. Keep your distance.
She was amazed at the bustle in the dining room. At least two dozen men, some dressed like cowhands, some wearing military desert camouflage, sat on benches on either side of long tables.
A Native American with dark, lively eyes and black braids, wearing a cook’s apron over a Pink concert T-shirt and a pair of jeans, was setting a large bowl of scrambled eggs on a table where a half dozen men sat with plates full of every imaginable breakfast food. No wonder Connor had wanted to come here to eat.
A huge log burned in the river-rock fireplace, which stood as tall as a man’s shoulder, the chimney climbing all the way to the top of the cathedral ceiling. An enormous buffalo head, scruffy enough to have been there for seventy years, had been mounted above the fireplace, and a newer-looking buffalo hide lay on the stone floor in front of the flickering fire.
An exquisite Navajo rug hung from one log wall, while a Sioux war shirt made of buckskin and beads hung on another. The chandelier above them was made of moose antlers. A window the width of one wall revealed a breathtaking view of a vast evergreen forest that began in the valley and spread across a faraway ridge.
Eve supposed that what had been a place for tourists who wanted to experience a taste of the American West must seem like glamorous fare for a bunch of soldiers used to dining in a mess hall. She observed the smiles and easy camaraderie of the men eating breakfast—and then became aware of the prosthetic arms and legs and the burn scars. One of the vets smiled and held out his arms to Sawyer, who ran right up to him. The soldier lifted Sawyer far above his head, where the little boy gurgled with excitement.
“Good morning, Pete,” Connor said. “I see you’ve met my son, Sawyer.”
“Looks just like you,” Pete said as he handed the boy to Connor.
Eve heard the pride in Connor’s voice as he replied, “My wife always said so.”
Brooke hung back by Eve’s side, apparently shy of so many strangers. Eve led her to a table where she saw two booster chairs, obviously intended for Connor’s kids, clamped to one of the benches. Two men were sitting on the opposite side of the table.
“Hello,” Eve said, smiling at the men to show Brooke there was nothing to be afraid of. “I’m Eve.” She lifted Brooke into one of the booster chairs as she added, “This is Connor’s daughter, Brooke.” She sat herself to the right of Brooke, leaving the space between the kids’ chairs for Connor.
One of the soldiers smiled back, the other kept his gaze on his food. “I’m Frank,” the smiling man said. He pointed with his fork at the other man. “This is Jeff. He doesn’t talk much.”
Jeff’s face had been ravaged by fire. Before Eve could reply, Connor arrived at the table with Sawyer in his arms. He put Sawyer in the empty booster chair and slid into the space between the two kids.
The woman who’d been doing the serving arrived at the table with silverware and plates. “I’m Maria Two Horses,” she said to Eve with a smile of welcome. “Connor’s probably already told you, it’s every man for himself.” She set down a stack of plates and a handful of silverware, then added, “Napkins and condiments are on the table.” Then she was gone again as someone at another table called for more eggs.
The same large variety of food that Eve had seen on the men’s plates sat in serving bowls and platters in the center of their table, including pancakes.
“Do you still want pancakes, Brooke?” she asked.
“Uh-huh,” Brooke said. “With lots and lots of syrup.”
Frank winked at Eve and said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Eve shot a glance in Connor’s direction, but he was busy cutting Sawyer’s pancakes into bite-size pieces.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling an unwanted blush rise on her cheeks.
“Leave her alone,” Jeff said. “She’s Connor’s girl.”
“I’m not—”
“I was just paying the lady a compliment,” Frank said.
“And I said shut your mouth.”
Eve had grown up in a houseful of women, so she wasn’t sure whether those were “fighting words” or just a case of “guys being guys.” She glanced at Connor and saw he was calmly eating a forkful of eggs.
He swallowed his eggs and said, “She isn’t my girl, Jeff. She’s just a friend who’s here for a while to help me take care of my kids. Frank wasn’t trying to steal her away.”
Jeff rose, taking his plate and silverware with him. He nodded in Eve’s direction. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he headed away.
“Let him go,” Connor said. “He came home and found out his girl had left him for another guy. And that was before she saw his face.”
“Oh,” Eve said. So there were wounds, and there were emotional wounds. Maybe the rosy picture she’d seen when she’d entered the lodge wasn’t the whole story. She supposed there must be some reason that each of these
men had decided to escape from the world for a little while.
Frank got up a moment later, touched the brim of his Stetson in acknowledgment, then picked up his plate and silverware. “Sorry for the ruckus, ma’am.”
“Eve,” she said.
He grinned with a great deal of charm. “Okay, Eve.” Before he left, he asked Connor, “Where do you want me today?”
“We’ll be moving a bunch of wild mustangs onto the south pasture later this afternoon. Why don’t you check the fence and make sure it’s not down anywhere?”
“Where did you come up with a herd of mustangs?” Frank asked.
“They’re mine,” Eve said.
Frank lifted a brow. “Are any broken to saddle?”
Eve shook her head. “Not yet.”
Frank turned to Connor. “Working with those mustangs might be a good project for the men.”
“That’s up to Eve. They’re her horses.”
Eve would have loved having the mustangs broken to saddle so they could be adopted out to good homes, but she was one person and there were twenty-two horses, some of which were still too young to be ridden. She’d never imagined having a bunch of veterans working with them, but it seemed like a good idea. Especially if they knew what they were doing, or at least were supervised by someone who knew what he was doing.
She studied Frank, who was dressed in jeans and western boots. “Do you have any experience breaking horses?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Eve. I grew up on a ranch in Montana. I’m not any kind of horse whisperer, but I know my way around a horse.”
Eve liked the look of the man, and the fact that he’d sounded confident without bragging, but she also wanted to make sure her animals were safe. “Would you mind if I work with you at first?”
Frank grinned. “I’d like that just fine.”
Eve turned back in time to see a funny look cross Connor’s face. Her gaze shifted to a middle-aged woman headed straight toward them. She looked out of place dressed in a tailored gray pantsuit with a feminine bow hanging down the front of her powder-blue blouse. When the woman stopped behind Connor, Eve smiled at her and said, “I’m Eve. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“No, I don’t believe we have,” the matronly woman said.
The moment she spoke, Connor whipped around, lifting his feet over the bench and nearly bumping into the woman, who took a quick step to the side. He rose and steadied her as he gathered Sawyer up like a sack of clothes under his arm. “Mrs. Stack. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Obviously. Otherwise, you would have made it clear to me where you were going to be. I had to find out from your father that you’re not living either in the home you shared with your wife nor at the ranch with your father, that you’ve taken your children to live somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I’ve never seen. Somewhere I haven’t vetted.”
The visitor was obviously trying to control her temper, but not doing a very good job of it. It only took Eve a moment to figure out who she was. The social worker. One of the conditions of Connor’s custody of his children was that he would be subject to visits from a social worker who would monitor the children’s welfare, at least for a while. It seemed Connor had gotten off on the wrong foot with Mrs. Stack.
“I didn’t think it would matter where the children and I lived, so long as it was similar to the other two locations,” Connor said, keeping his voice even.
“Are you going to continue to hold that child upside down?” she asked.
Connor shifted the two-year-old so he was upright. From the smile on Sawyer’s face, he hadn’t minded being held like a football under his father’s arm. “My home here has everything the other two homes have,” Connor argued.
“And something else they do not,” Mrs. Stack said, eyeing the collection of men sitting at tables in the lodge. “Why are your children eating breakfast here instead of in the house? Who are these men?”
“Veterans,” Connor said. “Mostly soldiers who’ve fought in Afghanistan.”
Eve saw the alarm on Mrs. Stack’s face as she asked, “What are they doing here?”
“Resting and relaxing. And working,” he added, when the look on Mrs. Stack’s face turned vinegary.
“Working at what?” she asked suspiciously.
“They’re going to be taming a band of wild mustangs for me,” Eve volunteered.
That answer seemed to satisfy Mrs. Stack. But she didn’t let Connor completely off the hook. “I’ll want to monitor this situation closely,” she said, nodding her chin in the direction of the vets. “And I want to see the children’s bedrooms and the rest of the house, immediately.”
“Of course,” Connor said.
Eve rose. “I’ll take care of busing the dishes while you show Mrs. Stack around. Then I’ll bring Brooke to the house.”
They’d only taken two steps when Mrs. Stack turned back to Eve and asked, “Who are you, exactly?”
“My name is Eve Grayhawk. I’m here to help take care of the children.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I have a bedroom in the house.”
“Are you married, Ms. Grayhawk?”
Eve couldn’t imagine why Mrs. Stack would need that information, but she answered, “No, I’m not.”
Mrs. Stack turned to confront Connor. “You have a single, young, unrelated woman living in the house with you and your children?”
Connor blurted, “Eve’s my fiancée.”
Chapter 8
CONNOR HAD NO idea why he’d lied to the social worker. Lots of folks hired a live-in nanny and many of them were young, single women. Mrs. Stack had just seemed so outraged that he’d panicked. He couldn’t lose his children, not when he’d just gotten them back. A millisecond after he told the lie, Connor realized he should have said Eve was helping out because she was the children’s godmother. Too late now.
“I didn’t realize you were engaged,” Mrs. Stack said as she looked from Connor to Eve.
Connor glanced sideways at Eve. Would she let the lie stand? If not, would he be in even worse trouble if he had to backtrack and tell Mrs. Stack the truth?
“Connor just proposed,” Eve said, embellishing his lie. “I haven’t even had time to tell my family yet.”
Mrs. Stack raised a brow. “A Grayhawk marrying a Flynn? My, oh, my. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Connor felt his heart sink as they put on their jackets and headed back to the house with Mrs. Stack. He should have thought of a better lie. Or just told the truth. The shit was going to hit the fan when their respective families heard the news.
As Mrs. Stack stepped inside the house she took an appraising look around the open living room and kitchen. Then she walked straight to the refrigerator and opened it.
Connor knew what she would find and rushed to say, “I haven’t stocked the refrigerator because I planned to have the children eat at the Main Lodge.”
“That will not do, Mr. Flynn. The children need a home, where they will eat and sleep. Speaking of which, where are the children’s bedrooms?”
“Why don’t you show Mrs. Stack where you sleep?” Connor said to his daughter.
“Okay.” Brooke ran down the hall toward Eve’s bedroom and disappeared inside.
Connor exchanged a look of dismay with Eve as he tried to intercept the social worker. “That’s actually Eve’s room,” he said as he gestured Mrs. Stack in another direction. “These rooms across the hall belong to the children.”
“Then why did Brooke go into Ms. Grayhawk’s room?”
Connor wasn’t sure what to say. What answer did the social worker want to hear? What answer would make her believe he was doing the best he could?
“Brooke and Sawyer ended up in my bed during the night,” Eve said with a smile that made it seem the most natural thing in the world for his children to abandon their beds for hers.
“Besides being Connor’s fiancée, I’m also the children’s godmother. Connor’s wife and I were best friends. Br
ooke and Sawyer know me well and came to my room when they woke up in an unfamiliar house.”
Mrs. Stack turned to Eve and asked, “Why haven’t I met you before now?”
“I’m a wildlife photographer, and I’ve been away fulfilling an assignment for National Geographic.”
Mrs. Stack’s narrow-eyed gaze shifted from Eve to Connor and back again. “And yet, a year after your best friend’s death you’re engaged to her husband?”
Eve ignored the inference of wrongdoing in Mrs. Stack’s question. “I love the children, and they need a mother.”
Connor realized there was nothing in Eve’s statement about loving him. Nevertheless, Mrs. Stack seemed satisfied with her answer. Which made no sense to Connor. Wouldn’t a marriage based on love be more stable? Then he thought of his brother Brian, who’d been desperately in love with his wife when they’d married. She’d cheated on him and then divorced him to be with her lover. Apparently, romantic love was no guarantee of forever after.
Connor shot a considering look in Eve’s direction. He wondered if she would seriously consider the sort of practical marital arrangement she’d described to the social worker. With his myriad responsibilities at Safe Haven, he wasn’t going to have many opportunities to meet a potential wife. A make-believe marriage, something to appease the social worker, might not be a bad idea.
He was in no hurry to fall in love again. He missed the closeness he’d had with his wife, but he knew that finding someone as special as Molly wouldn’t be easy. Brian’s marriage was proof of that, if he needed it. He was also aware that if Molly had lived they might have ended up at odds. He believed his sanctuary for veterans needed the isolation of a place like Safe Haven. Molly had yearned to live in a more metropolitan area. He had no idea how they would have resolved such a potentially devastating conflict. Better to find someone, like Eve, who knew going in what he planned.
Connor wouldn’t have gambled a dime on his chances of convincing Eve to agree to a marriage of convenience before Matt Grayhawk had shown up. But she was about to be thrown out of her home, not to mention needing a place to keep her mustangs. Luckily for him, he had an ace in the hole: She loved his children and wanted to be a part of their lives.
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