Montana Hero

by Debra Salonen

  Kat glimpsed the little girl’s quivering bottom lip and her pain quadrupled. She’d known this revelation would be hurtful, awful, which was the main reason she’d decided not to pursue the connection. But she hadn’t pictured the collateral damage. The grandchildren who worshipped their grandpa.

  She looked at Brady, whose gaze remained fixed on Bob Zabrinski. A sudden insight stabbed her heart. That’s why he did it. He wants to be part of this family. He wants more. More than just a mom who might get sick like his grandmother. Oh. Oh.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. Sorry. As much a victim as any of them. Powerless to change a Goddamn thing.

  Paul dragged Chloe toward his parents, probably intending to herd them away from the train wreck Kat and Brady had created. In his haste, he accidentally bumped one of the chairs into Brady, who winced and let out a small cry.

  Kat’s mother-bear instincts kicked in. She pulled her son, who hated to be held but, for once, didn’t protest, into the protective shelter of her arms. “I’m sorry this came out today. I had no idea Brady was aware of any of this. He and my mother were very close, but she was ill for a long time.”

  “I don’t know what this game is, young lady,” Bob Zabrinski said, his words biting with anger. “But what you’re implying…that I had sex with an employee…that you’re the result of that liaison…” He shook his head. “Never happened.”

  Kat stared at him, turmoil writhing inside her chest. A lifetime of loss—everyone she loved, gone—exposed a raw, primal need she hadn’t known existed, let alone acknowledged. From some dark recess of her mind, she heard her grandmother berating her daughter for bringing the embarrassment of a bastard love child to her world.

  “My mother loved you. She never cashed the check you gave her.” She somehow managed not to share the unspeakable question—had the money been intended for an abortion that Mom chose not to have?

  Everyone spoke at once. Questions. Recriminations. Denials.

  Flynn stepped to Kat’s side, his arms raised. “Time out, everyone. Please. Consider where you are and all the young ears present. Perhaps you’d like to do this some other time? Another place?”

  Bailey touched his shoulder. “You’re right, Flynn.”

  Kat wanted to shove her away. What was wrong with her? Life wasn’t complicated enough? She had to fall for the wrong guy, too?

  Bob Zabrinski put one arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re leaving.” He looked at Kat for a long moment, but he didn’t say anything more. He simply shook his head.

  Beyond the anger, Kat thought she detected a hint of regret—or was it confusion—in his eyes?

  She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at the moment was Brady. She sat and pulled him close enough that she could keep their conversation private.

  “Did I do bad?” he asked, chin touching his chest.

  Her already mangled heart bled a little more. “I know you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “Isn’t that why we came here? So you could meet your family?”

  Kat’s heart squeezed so tight against her ribs she could barely swallow. “You’re my family, sweetheart. I love you more than life. We moved here because…” Was he right? Did she secretly plan to confront her birth father? Make Robert Zabrinski prove his paternity? Inflict some of the pain she’d apparently harbored all these years on an unsuspecting stranger and his lovely family?

  No. Not intentionally. And certainly not like what just happened. “We needed a change after Grandma died and Marietta is the one place where she was happiest.”

  The truth…or some small part of it. At the moment, all Kat wanted to do was pack up and run back to Texas.

  Kat stood, so drained she wasn’t sure she had enough in her to drive home. “Let’s go, baby. Do you still want an ice cream?”

  “No. I wanna go home.”

  Their apartment? Or Texas? Did it matter?

  “Kat. A minute before you leave?”

  Flynn. Oh, crap. What must he think? That she was a scheming gold digger after a piece of the big Zabrinski pie?

  “Run to your locker and get your backpack, hon. And return any of the props that aren’t ours.”

  “My ankle is killing me,” Tucker said. “I’m going to wait in the truck. Hey, buddy,” he added, giving Brady two thumbs up, “great job on your lines. You really delivered.”

  Brady didn’t acknowledge the praise as he trudged toward the door leading to his classroom, so Kat said, “Thank you, Tucker. You helped a lot.”

  Once Brady was out of earshot, she added, “I think he’s headed for a meltdown. Big emotional displays do that to him.”

  “Me, too,” Tucker said with a wink. “Later.”

  When they were alone, Flynn motioned for her to follow him to a quiet corner out of the way of the cleanup crew dismantling the stage.

  “I gather what happened came as a surprise.”

  “Completely.”

  “But you’ve suspected for some time that Bob Zabrinski was your birth father?”

  Stark. Frank. So like Flynn to cut through the bull crap.

  “Mom told everyone she had an affair with a married man nine months before I was born. She was living in Marietta at the time and working at Big Z’s Hardware. When I found an old payroll check that she’d hidden in a book—” With the telltale bonus that seemed so ominous in Kat’s imagination, but probably signified severance pay or something completely innocent. “I went online and did some research. Mr. Zabrinski was her boss—her married boss. And he included a personal inscription on the check that sounded very…regretful.”

  She tried to laugh but the sound came out broken. “Lame, right? The twisted logic of a needy little girl with daddy issues?” She wiped away the lone, stupid tear she couldn’t hold back. “You may not believe me, but I’d already decided not to contact him. I’m not stupid, Flynn. Or mean. I knew how much pain this sort of toxic revelation could bring to his family. I swear to you I had no idea Brady even knew his name, let alone put all this together.”

  “Do you have a copy of the check?”

  His question came across as too bloodless, too official, for her taste. She pushed off from the wall she’d been leaning against. “Of course. I never throw away anything…just like my mother. The original is in San Antonio. Which is probably where I should be,” she added.

  Before he could say anything else—interrogate her further?—she spotted Brady shuffling toward them like an old man headed for a funeral. “I have to go.”

  She felt his gaze follow her across the room. Was a part of her disappointed he didn’t offer more in the way of support? Maybe. But what man would? They barely knew each other and suddenly she was embroiled in an ancient scandal with his brother’s future in-laws.

  Flynn had a promising future in Marietta. A small, conservative town where she’d just mortally insulted the patriarch of one of its most prominent families. Only a fool would jeopardize that future by getting involved with someone like her.

  And Flynn Bensen was no fool. She needed to remember that.

  *

  Flynn watched the flames of the fire dance in the confines of the massive hearth. The reds and burnished golds reminded him of Kat’s hair—her energy and passion for life. Watching her protect her son, always putting the boy’s welfare first during the altercation with the Zabrinski family that afternoon had been a revelation.

  Mom first. Sexy, gorgeous, single woman second.

  What the heck did Flynn know about being a dad?

  Not a damn thing.

  “If you scowl any more fiercely, the fire might think you hate it.” Justin dropped into the comfortable armchair beside Flynn’s. “I just checked. Our table should be ready in two minutes.”

  Flynn didn’t care. He was on his third beer and second shot. A rarity, but with Justin—who never imbibed—to drive, Flynn could let go…like Tucker.

  Flynn looked toward the bar where Tucker
sat, his clunky boot propped on the lap of a pretty stranger. “Who’s that? I thought for a minute he had a thing for Molly O’Neal’s granddaughter.”

  “I think you’re right. What you see there is Tucker’s public mask. He needs a certain amount of adoration to stay distracted.”

  Flynn snickered. Dr. Goat, some called him, the mountain climber shrink. Justin studied people with the same intensity and insight he used to pick the safest route to a peak at ten-plus-thousand-foot elevation.

  Justin took a sip from the mug he’d brought with him. “So, who’s this Kat person Tucker keeps talking about? Are you seeing her?”

  “She works for me.” Or did. Her last comment hinted that she might not be here for long. “She has a ten-year-old son. Borderline Asperger’s, I think. Smart as hell.”

  The way Brady confronted Bob Zabrinski this afternoon had blown Flynn’s mind. The whole drama brought back memories of Ryker shouting at their mother, accusing her of cheating on their dad while he was still alive. Ryker had even produced photos of Mom in the embrace of Howard Margolis, the man Mom married just six months after Dad’s funeral. Flynn had shut down emotionally—just as he had this afternoon.

  “Do you like your parents?” he asked Justin.

  Justin half choked on his sip. “Out of the clear blue.” He used his knuckle to wipe his chin. “I suppose I do. Being part of a big family dilutes some of the angst only children feel, don’t you think? Why? Is your brother still giving you a hard time about staying in contact with your mother?”

  Justin had heard the whole saga over the years.

  “No. I’ve barely seen him since I got here. He’s got a lot on his plate.” Wedding plans. The new house. “Did I tell you he’s setting up a charity in the name of his girlfriend who was killed?” Along with their unborn baby.

  Justin nodded soberly. “How’s he doing?”

  “Good. Really good. He’s taking photos again. And engaged. Her name is Mia Zabrinski.”

  Justin mouthed the name. “Same family…?”

  “Yep.”

  They sat in silence until the hostess came to seat them.

  Flynn ordered a steak, mostly because that’s what Tucker ordered and he didn’t have to think beyond asking for “medium” to Tucker’s “bloody.”

  The gist of the talk centered on the zip line. Justin didn’t mince words. “Do I think this is a great business plan? Hell, no. But it has potential. I’ll give you six months of my time in return for a share. Take it or leave it.”

  Flynn nearly choked on his bite of steak. “Six months? That’s prime fire season. You’re willing to give up firefighting?”

  “I’ve already looked into the volunteer unit that covers where the zip line is going. I figure I can get my fire fix by helping those guys this summer.” Justin looked at one then the other. “As can both of you.”

  Tucker groaned. “Oh, come on. Join the Weekend Warriors? Us? We’re pros.”

  “Which means we bring a wealth of experience to the table,” Goat said, no trace of humor in his eyes. “Non-negotiable. If we’re going to call Montana home, then we need to step up and be part of protecting it.”

  Something shifted inside Flynn’s chest—an epiphany, maybe. He took this camaraderie for granted. If these guys weren’t around to have his back, Ryker would be there. He’d never had to carry any burden—except for the old lady in his dream—all alone. The way Kat did.

  As if reading his mind, Justin asked, “How are you sleeping, Flynn?”

  “Fine.” He shoved a large hunk of meat into his mouth and chewed with vigor.

  He had no intention of telling them his regular nightmare had been replaced by a sexy woman who left him tangled in the covers as if he’d been wrestling an alligator.

  Justin looked at Tucker, who shrugged. “We have to take his word for it. But I will say he looks more rested. Now, if he could just get laid.”

  The bite Flynn was in the process of swallowing lodged sideways in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. Justin jumped to his feet and pounded on Flynn’s back until Flynn pushed his hand away. “You’re supposed to try to dislodge the obstacle not kill me.”

  They argued good-naturedly about who was better at CPR.

  They were having coffee when Tucker mentioned the incident that afternoon. “Poor Flynn. Stuck in the middle between the woman he loves and his brother’s future in-laws.”

  Flynn shove back from the table. “The woman I love? What the f…hell are you talking about? I never said that.”

  Tucker rolled his eyes. “It’s pretty obvious, man. Not that I blame you, of course. She’s great. If it weren’t for my No Kids policy, I’d have asked her out.” He gave his patented lothario chuckle as he leaned toward Goat to add, “She has a great a—”

  Flynn reacted without thinking. He lunged across the table to grab the front of Tucker’s shirt. “Great…?”

  “Abs. Yep. That’s what I was gonna say. Great abs.”

  As Flynn sat down, he spotted Tucker mouthing “Told ya” to Justin.

  Flynn gave in. “Okay. Fine. I like her. I like her a lot. More than any girl since Darla. But, number one, I’m her boss. Number two, her last boss was a misogynistic a-hole who hit on her on a regular basis, but she did not report.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen her stand up for the rights of a client, but she covered up her boss’s bad behavior. I’m still trying to figure out why.”

  Having grown up with a playboy father and a mother who put up with Dad’s philandering in order to keep a roof over her head and not lose her standing in the community, Flynn understood how a woman might trade long-term self-esteem for the short-term payoff, but that didn’t mean he could respect the decision.

  Flynn stood. “You guys have business to negotiate and I’m ready to crash.” He pulled three twenties from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “Here’s my share. I’m going to walk. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  The clear, moonless night held the type of spring chill that would have gardeners tossing protection over their baby plants…just to be safe. He looked up. The panoramic brilliance of the stars took his breath away.

  Home. He’d never felt the word more keenly.

  He jogged most the way. Partly to stay warm; partly to keep from obsessing over Tucker’s “the woman he loves” comment. As he approached Jenkins’s Fish and Game and Western Bling, he noticed a car parked in front of the house. He recognized the make and model, of course, since it was the only car he looked for when he pulled into the SAR parking lot.

  He veered left and walked to Kat’s car. Even with the windows mostly steamed over, he could see her in the driver’s seat, head resting against the window. He rapped lightly.

  She turned on the ignition to open it a crack. “I dozed off. It was that kind of day.”

  He had to give her that. He looked in the empty back seat. “Where’s Brady?”

  “A sleepover. First one since we moved here. A boy in his class. His mom lives in the same complex as us. So, even though it’s a school night, I decided to allow it.” She swallowed. “I think we should talk…um…before you get to the office and read this.” She handed him a piece of paper.

  In the weak glow from the streetlight, it was impossible to read every word but he caught the important one: resignation. “Can we go inside to do this?”

  As they walked to the house rented from Bailey Jenkins-Zabrinski and her parents, two thoughts hit him.

  “I’m not her boss anymore.”

  His silent—elated—“Yes” turned sober when the other shoe fell.

  “She’s leaving Marietta.”

  Either way, he was screwed.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Kat shivered as she stepped across the threshold of Flynn’s temporary quarters. He’d given everyone his address that first day on the job, making it clear his door was always open if they had problems outside of work that might affect their job performance.

  Announcing to th
e world that the head of a prominent family had fathered a bastard child probably qualified as a problem, she thought, standing a moment in the open “living room” that now served as the retail hub of Bailey’s jewelry store.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  She shook her head.

  The room wasn’t cold, but sitting in her car for the past half hour had left her chilled to the bone. Either that or the dread from what was coming. Her confession. She’d already seen the look he’d given her when Brady blurted out the fact he was Bob Zabrinski’s grandson. Suspicion. Concern. Judgment.

  How could anyone not judge her poorly? She didn’t think very highly of herself at the moment, either.

  “How ’bout a cup of tea?”

  She nodded. Anything to stall.

  He led the way to the kitchen, flicking on lights that illuminated a workshop that must have been a family room at some time in the house’s life. The sparkle and pop of silver, gold and semi-precious stones brought a smile to her face, despite what she knew was coming.

  “Bailey’s really talented, isn’t she? I bought a pair of her earrings at the Big Marietta Fair last summer. They were my favorite until I lost one in the laundry.”

  Flynn busied himself by filling a kettle with water. “I heard the ladies who work here talking about a replacement they were working on. Bring the one you have to work and I’ll…” He didn’t finish the thought. Instead, he reached overhead for a box of herbal tea choices.

  He carried the box and two mugs to the table.

  “Are you quitting because of what happened at the school today?”

  “Mostly.”

  She sat opposite him. She didn’t dare sit too close. Giving up her job was only part of her penance. She’d come to the conclusion that this could have been avoided if she’d been a more attentive mother. Brady somehow picked up on her latent, mostly hidden—even from herself—desire to have a “real” family.

  Since that was never going to happen, she owed it to herself and her son to hunker down, regroup and refocus all her energy on Brady.