Bittersweet Return (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 6)

by Patricia Watters

  "Honey, tea would be nice," Grace said to Kit. "I haven't had tea with anyone in a long time. My daughter-in-law, Emily, is so busy with my grandson and the new house she and my son are building, that she doesn't have time, and my niece, Sophie, has her hands full with triplets."

  "Well, I'm not burdened with anything right now," Kit said, "so having tea and cookies with a lady friend sounds wonderful."

  Grace smiled, like Kit was the short-term answer to her prayers, then turned to Marc, and said, "You'll have to stop in and see Sophie and Rick before you come to dinner tonight. Rick gets home around six if he's not called out somewhere."

  "So he's finished vet school?" Marc asked, then realized Rick would have by now, although he hadn't given it much thought during the years he was away.

  Grace nodded. "He's working with Dr. Terry, and they're the only large animal vets in the area. You won't see Sam and Jayne though, because they're visiting Becca and Chase right now, but they'll be back in a few days. They'll be surprised you're here. And so happy to see you."

  Marc wondered, for a moment, if his mother added the, And-so-happy-to-see-you, as an afterthought. After being gone four years without sending word, he knew everyone would be surprised to see him. But so-happy might be stretching it, especially for Sam, the man who'd been his legal father when he was born, then turned him over to his brother and sister-in-law to raise. But he'd stop by and see Rick. They were half-brothers, so that might mean something.

  It just occurred to him that if it hadn't been for the sperm mix-up, Adam would have been Rick's half-brother, the one booted out after birth.

  Grace scanned the table, then looked at the teapot steaming on the stove and said, "If I'd known, I could have baked some pecan sandies. My children all love those."

  "Then you can do that tomorrow and we'll have tea again," Kit said. She took two green ceramic mugs with yellow daisies on them out of a storage bin beside the cooler and placed them on the table, along with a plastic container filled with an assortment of teas. While pulling out a chair for Grace, Kit said, "This sure beats having beef jerky and Gatorade with a bunch of sweaty, dust-covered archaeologists in a hot, steamy jungle." She gave Marc a playful smile, and sat down with his mother.

  As Kit poured hot water into Grace's mug, Grace said, "Honey, this is so nice, and now I want to hear all about you and your family."

  Although he was being completely ignored, Marc lowered himself to the ground, propped his back against a tree, and waited to hear what would come, because in the three weeks they'd spent at the dig, he'd never asked Kit any of the questions he knew his mother would.

  ***

  "You never mentioned anything about being a ballet dancer," Marc said, as he and Kit walked from Kit's encampment to Rick and Sophie's house, late that afternoon.

  "That was in high school," Kit replied. "My dancing career ended there."

  "But you told my mother you danced with the New Mexico Ballet Company," Marc said. "You must have been pretty good."

  Kit shrugged. "Ballet every day kept me out of trouble when I was growing up." She jumped into the air, did a complete turn and landed in fifth position, and said, "The tour en l'aire works better with dancing shoes."

  Marc stared. Of all the things he'd wondered about Kit and never asked, being a ballerina was the last thing he would have expected, but as he again brought up the image of her in the shower, he could imagine her wearing a tutu. She had the long graceful legs of a ballet dancer, and nicely tapered hips, and a small waist, and the kind of breasts dancers had—a couple of nice handfuls—with small pink nipples to match the pink tutu. Maybe a khaki tutu and field boots.

  "What are you thinking?" Kit asked when she caught him smiling.

  "I was trying to picture you as a ballet dancer," Marc replied. "The field boots didn't work."

  "But they're a lot more comfortable," Kit said, while rising onto the toes of her boots. She stood with her arms curved in an arc above her head, then lowered her heels to the ground and continued walking. "It's also pretty hard to do a relévé, but I could work on that."

  "Why didn't you continue dancing?" Marc asked, while trying to get a handle on the woman who was walking beside him.

  "I got tired of sore feet all the time, and by then, I decided I wanted to become a wildlife biologist so I could be a park ranger," Kit replied. "That was the major I started with in college."

  "You didn't do that either," Marc pointed out. "But a park ranger seems closer to reality than trying to imagine you in a pink tutu."

  Kit laughed. "I don't know. I think I could make it work." Heels touching, she pointed her toes in opposite directions, forming a straight line, and said, "Actually it's easier to do a turnout in boots. They give me a wider base. Maybe I'll pick up where I left off while I'm here."

  Marc eyed her with amusement. "You still didn't tell me what happened to the park ranger."

  Kit snickered, "My father convinced me interior design was a better major for a woman, so that's what I switched to, but then that led to the study of Byzantine design, which got me interested in ancient petroglyphs and cave paintings, and one thing led to another, but by then my father was happy for me to do anything, just to finish college. He was afraid I'd become a professional student."

  "But you were with Wally for three of the years you were in college," Marc said, wondering how the conversation had come back to him again.

  "Actually, I started college when I was sixteen," Kit said. "I was homeschooled because my parents thought there might be a career in ballet ahead for me, so I finished my high school requirements early. My sister gave me a bib as a college going away gift, but six years later, I graduated with my age group."

  "But you still moved in with Wally before you graduated," Marc said.

  Kit nodded. "That's why my father didn't object. It cut college expenses. Then I got a grant for tuition, and Wally insisted on paying for my upkeep, so it all worked out."

  "So, who broke it up? You or Wally?" Marc asked.

  "Wally did," Kit replied. "He didn't like all the sex I constantly demanded."

  Marc looked at her with a start. "Are you serious?"

  Kit laughed. "No, Hansen, I'm not serious. He broke it off because of all the reasons I told you before. But why are we on Wally again? I'm beginning to think you're becoming territorial."

  Marc laughed, even though he wasn't quite sure what she was implying. Being territorial about her would indicate she thought he was moving in that direction, like lining things up for a committed relationship, which he wasn't, although the idea didn't bother him as much as it had. "If I'm territorial, you'll be glad I am when you meet my brothers," he said. "They're a bunch of cocky, hotshot cowboys who'll be all over you as soon as they see you."

  "Sounds like fun," Kit mused. "Just try not to be too territorial."

  Marc tried to absorb that in the humor Kit threw it at him. Still, it bothered him that there was truth to what he said about his brothers being all over Kit, and wondered about her response, especially if she did have a thing for cowboys.

  Taking her arm, he guided her up a trail paralleling a new driveway that cut through the woods leading to Rick and Sophie's new house and continued holding her arm, and she didn't try to pull loose, which surprised him. Ever since the kiss at the site, she'd managed to keep a working distance between then, so it was obvious her no-commitment, no-staying-in-my-tent rule was still in place. He might try another kiss at some point though, but now wasn't the time.

  "The house is kind of off by itself," Kit commented, as they continued up the trail.

  "Not completely," Marc replied. "Since Rick and Adam are joined at the hip, Adam and Emily's house is probably up here somewhere."

  Looking askance at him, Kit said, "The house is probably up here, as in, the house is up here, or you assume it's up here because you have a nit to pick with both men?"

  "I don't have a nit to pick with them," Marc countered.

  Kit gave a sarcas
tic chuckle. "Hansen, you have so many nits to pick around here you need a dinosaur-size nit comb."

  The house came into view, a beautiful cedar house that blended with the forest, but as they approached, Marc released Kit's arm and stopped walking so he could take a moment to collect his thoughts. It was all beginning to come back, the way it had been before he left. Rick started to cozy up to him right after learning they were half-brothers instead of cousins, but only because Rick finally started feeling guilty because, all his life, he'd lived across the driveway from a guy he hadn't really given shit about, who happened to be the reason he was alive.

  "Don't go getting cold feet," Kit said. "It's not like you."

  "I'm not getting cold feet," Marc snapped. "I'm wondering why I'm here."

  "Try, it's the polite thing to do after you've been gone four years, but if that doesn't work, how about, Rick's your brother and you're the reason he's alive, and he might want you back in his life because you made a difference. Or maybe because you're a real pain in the butt, but everyone around here already knows that and they love you in spite of it."

  She went on ahead, marched up the porch steps and knocked, then stood back and waited for Marc to catch up.

  "I'd be in Texas trying to worm my way into the Belize project if I hadn't let you talk me into this," Marc mumbled, as he plodded up the steps.

  Once on the porch, Kit reached up and tucked a lock of hair into his ponytail, then straightened his collar, patted his chest, and said, "I think you'll pass."

  "I'm not trying to impress anyone," Marc said, but he did like the moment of attention Kit gave him, little womanly touches, like someone who cared. Like a wife.

  CHAPTER 6

  The door to Rick and Sophie's home flew open and Rick rushed out, and before Marc could react, Rick threw his arms around Marc, patted his back, and said, "Man, you sure took a long time to come home."

  Marc smiled some, but wasn't sure whether Rick was being genuine, or maybe, just before he opened the door, Sophie might have straightened his hair, fixed his collar, patted him on the chest and sent him out to act like he cared. Sophie would do something like that, and Rick did whatever Sophie wanted since he'd been jumping through her hoops for years.

  "I got busy in school," Marc said, "and before I knew it four years slipped by."

  "Come on inside." Rick grabbed Marc's arm and tugged him through the doorway. "Sophie's rounding up the kids. They're walking now, so we're thinking about getting a herding dog."

  Marc stopped Rick as he went to shut the front door, and said, "Kit's with me."

  Rick looked at him, puzzled.

  "My assistant. Kit Korban," Marc explained.

  Kit stepped into the doorway from where she'd been standing on the porch, off to the side, and said, "Well, actually, that's past tense. I was Marc's assistant. But if things go the way I hope I'll be in charge next time."

  Rick shifted his gaze between Kit and Marc and it was obvious he was asking the same question to himself everyone else had. Who was the beautiful woman with Marc and was she sleeping with him?

  Marc cleared things up by saying, "We're following Dad's ranch rules mainly because Kit doesn’t give me a choice, but if we end up doing a little digging around in the Indian mound I'll be her field hand, nothing more, which means she'll have me doing all the dirty work."

  "Hansen, you are so full of it," Kit said. "No one can keep you out of the dirt because you think you know better than anyone else how to dig. But that's why I have you as my assistant."

  Marc laughed and relaxed some. The light banter helped cut through all the brotherly dishonesty. "So, I heard you and Sophie are expecting twins," he said to Rick.

  Rick smiled, as if pumping out kids was the greatest thing going. "Sophie started out wanting ten, but that was when we were eight and nine," Rick said. "She scaled down to six when she was twelve, and after the triplets, announced she'd never go through that again, which lasted about a month. She's doing fine though, and Mom's back in baby mode. You know Mom and babies. Honey! Marc's here," he called out to Sophie.

  "Be there in a minute, sweetheart," Sophie called from beyond the hallway.

  A moment later, a little naked boy came rushing into the room, squealing and laughing, and ran up to Rick with arms raised to be picked up, which Rick did. "This could get dangerous," he said, eyeing his son, whose little cock was aimed at him. "We'd better get some diapers on you."

  Rick started down the hallway and was passed by a little naked girl, who stopped at the end of the hallway and stared at them. Then she was joined by a little girl in a diaper, who stood beside her sister, both staring at them.

  Sophie emerged from the hallway, and spotting Marc, walked up to him, gave him a hug, and said, "You really are a sight for sore eyes." She looked him over, and Marc knew she'd spotted the ponytail. To Marc's surprise, she smiled like it really didn't matter and followed up by saying, while toying with his ponytail, "You always did have nice hair, just enough waves and blond highlights to make women jealous. I actually like the ponytail. It suits a man who spends his time on archaeological digs. We heard all about it." She looked beyond Marc and said, "And you must be Kit. Grace told us about you, and about having tea in the woods. She plans to bake cookies and come again tomorrow afternoon, so I hope you're ready."

  Kit offered her hand, "I'm ready. In fact I plan to stop the dig every afternoon at two for tea, but I haven't mentioned it to Marc yet, for obvious reasons."

  She looked at Marc and smiled, which had Marc thinking about what that smile did to him, and the lips, and other things he didn't need right now. "You're in charge here, Korban," he said, getting back on track, "but I never did think you were cut out for field work."

  "I'm as cut out as you," Kit said, "I just don't see a reason to go completely native."

  Both little girls toddled into the room, and standing on each side of Sophie, tucked their heads against her, wrapped their arms around Sophie's legs, and continued to stare.

  Sophie put her hand on the top of the little naked girl's head and said, "This one's Tina, and this one's—" she placed a hand on the head of the one in the diaper "—Rena."

  "Rena and Tina," Kit mused. "That's adorable. How did you come up with those?"

  "Rena's named after her great-grandmother, Maureen," Sophie said, "and Tina's named after my mother, Justine, who's their grandmother. It came out Rena and Tina, even though we hadn't planned it." She put her hands on her belly. "These two are Sam and Sophie. I talked Rick out of naming one of the girls Sophie the first time, but this time he stood firm. At least we haven't needed baby name books so far. Maybe the next go around."

  Kit looked at Sophie with a start. "You plan to have more?"

  Sophie laughed. "Actually, we're quitting with these two. Rick's had enough doing the spread-legged-feet-in-stirrups thing while the doctor pokes around looking for sperm. But he knows what pregnant women go through, so he's treated me with respect from the start of both pregnancies. He also knows modesty's a thing of the past. It's like a nudist camp around here at times, when the kids break loose while Rick and I are in the Jacuzzi and we have to go chasing after them, but it's a whole lot of fun, especially later, after we get the kids to bed and that big tub's still waiting and we know we won't be interrupted when it matters. We convinced Adam and Emily to do the same. It beats sneaking off to the hot spring. Well, I'd better get these two into their jammies and into bed." She gave Marc a little peck on the cheek, and said, "Welcome home stranger, don't stay away so long next time. Rick will be out in a minute."

  As Sophie herded the girls down the hallway, Marc looked beyond them and saw a pair of double doors, wide open, and a large Jacuzzi. Sophie's enthusiasm about what went on in that big tub, and the knowledge that Adam and Emily would also have one, had images coming at Marc from all directions, and they weren't images of Rick and Sophie, or Adam and Emily. Imagining him and Kit in a big Jacuzzi didn't work either, because that meant home and kids and the wh
ole commitment thing. But there was still a hot spring pool tucked away in a cavern just up a trail from Kit's encampment, and that, he could imagine sharing with Kit.

  Rick returned with his son, who was now in yellow pajamas with brown ponies all over them and feet with rubber treads. "It gets a little hectic around this time of night," he said, "but since you'll be here a while we'll have time to get together, I hope a lot."

  Marc looked at Rick's son and was surprised to see that he didn't have the Hansen dark brown eyes and dark hair. His eyes were actually kind of gray-green, or maybe green-brown.

  Rick, seeing the focus of Marc's attention, said to him, "He got our mother's eyes. His hair's also got the blond streaks, like yours. So, meet your namesake, little Marc."

  Marc stared at the boy, not knowing how to respond. He also hadn't missed the word our in reference to their mother, a clear acknowledgment that Rick considered him his brother now. It made him feel strange, like maybe Rick actually cared some. It also made him feel connected.

  "You named him after me?" he asked, even though it was obvious. It just didn't seem... real.

  "You're my brother," Rick said. "The only reason I'm here is because of you. It's ironic that he has your hair and eyes instead of mine, but I can live with that. There are far too many Hansen's with dark brown eyes and hair. It's time the genetic pool got a little diversified."

  Marc had the strangest urge to hold the boy. He'd never been one to want to be around kids, even his brothers when they were small, although Maddy had been different. She was tiny and cute and trusting, and wrapped in pink and lace. But Rick's son, little Marc, was staring at him like maybe he saw something familiar about the eyes, although Marc knew the kid had no idea about the color of his own eyes, but he'd hear about it as he grew up. It wasn't all negative though. Women seemed to like the color, or at least it gave them a chance to take another look and comment if they were interested.

  "Can I hold him," Marc asked, while opening his arms.

  "Sure." Rick passed his son over to Marc.