She was unprepared for the big hard man leaning against it with his arms folded across his broad chest. What the hell was Patrick Bascom doing here? She stopped well back of the landing and glared at him. She was not prepared to forget how rude he had been to her sister.
“Hello,” he drawled. “You’re looking well.”
“I don’t know why you’re here,” she snapped. “But you’re not welcome.”
“Now is that any way to greet a man?” His brown eyes roved over her face and body with openly lustful admiration. Amber felt a tide of red wash over her from collarbones to hairline. “I see you can still blush, Miss Dupré.”
“If there’s one of us who should be blushing, it isn’t me. It’s you.” She firmed her lips together before she repeated the vile things he had said to Heather.
“I don’t know what you mean, I’m here to see if there were any repercussions to our last meeting,” he continued in the same mocking drawl.
It hit Amber then like a rock fall on Mountain Road after the rains. She took an involuntary step back down the staircase. Her hands clutched the banister. “It was you,” she breathed. “You!”
“I don’t play games, little girl,” he growled. He stalked the four steps it took him to reach her. His big hands grabbed her shoulder and lifted her bodily onto the landing.
“Let me go.” To her horror, instead of sounding angry, affronted, and firm, her voice rose in a pleading squeak.
He chuckled, and his mouth crashed down on hers. Amber went rigid in his clutches. His tongue probed the seam of her lips, and he had it in her mouth before she remembered she was wearing boots. She kicked him as hard as she could in the shins. That made him set her down.
“What the fuck?” he yelled. Proving once again that he was, as Amber had known from the get-go, no gentleman. She backed away from him but he made no move to come towards her. Something like uncertainty crossed his big, confident face. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Around here,” she let tartness slip into her voice, “It’s considered of the first importance to know the name of the woman you are seducing. I am Amber Dupré.”
His mouth fell open.
She pushed past him and went to the door with her key. “I think you have me confused with my sister,” she said. “You better come inside.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“I see you’ve had your meeting with Gideon and Asher,” Zeke said as soon as Patrick limped in his front door.
“If those are the names of the two-man mountains that I’m going to sue for assault and battery, yes,” Patrick snarled.
“You’re talking mighty big for a fella who just got his ass whipped,” Zeke said. “You want some ice for that eye?”
Patrick began to nod and then he thought he wouldn’t. His head ached and his pride was sore. “If you knew those bastards were going to waylay me, why the fuck didn’t you warn me?” he snarled.
“Gideon and Asher wanted me to come and help them. I drew the line there. I told them I’d play good cop after they had played bad cop.” Zeke smacked a cold bottle into Pat’s hand. He shifted things around in the freezer and pulled out a big fistful of ice cubes. He rolled them in a clean towel and handed them over. “That eye is going to swell shut, but you might as well put ice on it.”
Patrick stretched out on the couch and put his head back and let the ice pack fall over both his eyes. “Christ on a crutch,” he said, “Those hillbillies certainly had their shorts in a knot. You’d think the damn girl was the Virgin Mary or something.”
“Things are different here on Yakima Ridge, Pat.” Zeke drank straight from his bottle. “Heather Dupré is an orphan, and until you laid hands on her, presumed to be a virgin. Her kinsmen are on the warpath. Some asshole – not even from around these parts – knocked that young woman up and abandoned her. You’re lucky they didn’t bring shotguns with them. I don’t know what you were thinking of, touching a woman from the Ridge. Did you even bother to find out if you were related to her first?”
Patrick sat up. He pulled the ice pack off his eye. His already blurry vision had become blurrier. “Jesus, tell me I don’t have that to worry about.”
“According to Jenna, and she’s got a book about so thick, that says so,” Zeke made a four-inch space with his thumb and forefinger, “You don’t.”
“Your wife just happens to have a family tree that includes me and those girls?” Patrick tried to shake his head, but that was worse than nodding had been. He lay back down on the couch and put the ice pack over his eyes, realized that he wanted some beer and had to sit up again to drink. It stung going down. Those big meaty fists had split his lip and cut the inside of his cheeks. He hoped their knuckles were as sore as his mouth.
“Jenna has a family tree she’s very proud of. It’s one of her most prized possessions,” Zeke explained. “She sat down and looked us up the minute she realized there was something between us. There I was, woozy and half-dead from hypothermia, and she was showing me where we meet up on the family tree.”
Zeke refreshed himself from his bottle of beer. “Amber and Heather Dupré aren’t related to us at all. Shirley Foster Dupré Miller was their granddaddy’s stepmother. But they are related to Jenna, and every other Bascom around here, and to half the county besides. You’re lucky Asher and Gideon kept the posse to two.”
“How do we know she’s really pregnant?” Patrick asked from underneath the towel.
“I do hope you didn’t ask Gideon and Asher that,” Zeke said. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart brother.”
“It is the first thing that springs to mind. She knew what she was doing, tempting me, swimming where I could watch.”
“You did not just say that, Patrick Bascom,” Zeke said, folding his hands behind his head. “That is pure bullshit, and you know it. If you didn’t want to watch a girl skinny-dipping, that’s what you’ve got feet for.”
Patrick mumbled something under his breath.
“I didn’t catch that,” Zeke said.
“I said, she wasn’t skinny-dipping. She was in bear.” He let the loathing he was feeling for himself freight the words.
Zeke’s laughter was a roar. “You’ve still got legs, boy. You poor, scared son of a bitch. You and Calvin have stuffed your bears down so deep, the poor things have almost starved to death. And when out of the blue, fortune favors you with a mate,” he shook his head, “You run off with your tail between your legs like a rabbit. You better find your inner bear, twin, and get yourself measured for a tux. You’ve got a wedding to attend.”
“I thought around here men wore their uniforms to get married,” Patrick said around his split lip.
“They do. I just figured you were too citified for that.”
“You have no call to say that, Zeke Bascom. I’ve done my military service.”
“Weekend soldier.” But there was tolerance in Zeke’s voice. “You ready for another one?”
“No, I haven’t even started on this one really. What exactly is it,” he raised his voice as Zeke went into the kitchen, “That they want me to do?”
“The usual. They want you to marry the girl, and make a stab at making her happy, give those babies of hers a name.” Zeke came back out. “And that part of it is not up for negotiation. You need to do what in these parts we call ‘doing right’ by that girl. And even then, those babies are going to be gossiped about. And Heather too. Not to mention her sister.”
“I thought I was the big bad seducer?” Patrick said. His tongue felt bruised and talking was getting hard.
“That’s the beauty of the old ways. You get to have your fun. Heather gets a couple of kids and loses her reputation. It’s still 1950 here.”
* * *
Portland…
“You don’t have to marry anyone if you don’t want to. But you do need to think about what’s best for your babies.” Madeline Enright’s voice was kind as she wrestled a T-shirt over Harriet’s curly head and waited for her little girl’s arms
to find the armholes.
Heather looked up from where she was straightening the changing table, and filling up the shelf with disposable diapers. “I don’t know what I should do. The way I was brought up, I can’t help but feel ashamed to be having babies with no daddy. But I don’t know that it would be any kind of a marriage if I hitched up with Patrick Bascom. Even if he’s willing. Which I doubt.”
She retrieved Abigail from the toy corner where she had been piling rings on a rocker. She sniffed Abby’s diaper. “Want to swap?” Heather asked.
Madeleine laughed. “I’m fine.” She buttoned Edmund into his undershirt. “Doug and I want you to come with us when we go to Hanover for the weekend. Apparently, Patrick Bascom showed up in French Town asking for you. You need to hear what he has to say, even if you don’t marry him.”
Heather tossed Abigail’s full diaper in the bin. “I don’t want to be alone with him.”
“If you’re afraid of Patrick, you better believe Doug will look out for you.” Madeline let Harriet toddle off and grabbed Edmund, who was making a beeline for the door. “If all you want is a settlement, that can be arranged.”
“It’s awfully tempting,” she said. “Do you think I could get enough money to have my own place and someone to help out with triplets? If that’s what I get.” She patted her bulging belly.
“I’d make sure of it,” Madeleine pledged.
“They would still be me and two or three babies at the end of the day,” Heather pointed out. “And not for a week or two. Forever.”
“There is no reason why Patrick Bascom – who is supposed to be a billionaire – shouldn’t have to provide decent child support for you. And that ought to include enough money for a babysitter so you get a break. You need to consider all your options.” Madeleine’s voice was firm.
“What did Dougie say? Or didn’t you ask him about this?” Heather asked.
“I talked about it with him. Doug knows I don’t approve of his mountain man morality. This is the twenty-first century. No woman should have to get married just because some idiot knocked her up. If you don’t like Patrick Bascom, don’t marry him.”
“What if I do like him? I wouldn’t have gotten in this condition if I hadn’t thought he was my destined husband. I took one whiff of him.” Heather broke off and shook her head sadly. “I was done in that second. You never saw anyone as surprised as me when he just took off once he’d had his fun.”
“It happened that fast for me too,” admitted Madeleine. “And for Doug as well.” She lowered her voice, although they were alone in the room except for the triplets. “He was staying here, while I was in Las Vegas on a bachelorette weekend. He and my brother changed my locks while I was gone.”
Her voice broke on a laugh. “I was trying to break into the house when he came into the kitchen with both his guns out – if you know what I mean.”
Heather’s eyes widened. She covered her mouth to hide her laugh. “You don’t mean,” she giggled through her palm, “That Dougie Enright accosted you in his birthday suit?”
Madeline’s hazel eyes twinkled. She patted Edmund’s bottom. “I do mean exactly that. And he was so shocked and surprised and I think attracted, that he changed into a bear right there in the kitchen. You never saw anyone jump up on a counter as fast as me!”
“I never heard that,” Heather said through her giggles. “Dougie?” She had a hard time believing her stern, upright cousin Douglas Enright had behaved so recklessly. It made her behavior seem normal somehow.
“It took us both the same way, in the same instant. It’s made me believe in love at first sight. But I don’t know anything about that Patrick Bascom. I looked that family up on the Internet.” Maddie made a face.
“His father has been married and divorced five times,” she continued. “And every wife looks like every other one.” She looked down at her own comfortable curves with a complacent eye. “Scrawny clotheshorses all of them. He just keeps swapping them for younger ones. Which isn’t the way I understand that bears behave.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Heather said. “And Patrick’s brother – his twin brother – he’s as nice a guy as you would ever want to meet anywhere. Zeke is like your Dougie. He’s like my cousins Asher and Gideon – they’re Bascoms too – do you know them? “
“I’ve had the pleasure. And they’re the sweetest guys you could ever want to meet.” She grinned at Heather. “Doug says they had a word with Patrick on your behalf.”
Heather’s knew what that meant. She grinned. “Good.”
* * *
Hanover…
Doug answered the door with one of his two daughters on his shoulder. Abigail had been almost asleep until the knocking had started. Now she was squirming and kicking and generally acting like naptime was over. Unless it was Baba, he was going to have the head of whomever had disturbed the Enrights’ rural retreat.
Standing on his front porch, looking about as brainless as any raw recruit Col. Enright had ever had to shape up, was a tall, skinny boy whose features were more familiar than his name. He was in uniform, and even though Doug wasn’t, he saluted.
“Who are you?” Doug barked.
“Miller, sir, Benjamin Miller, Private First Class, sir.” The boy took off his hat and stood at attention with his cap under his arm.
“Well, come inside, Private. And tell me what this is all about.” Doug stopped Abigail from throwing herself backwards into oblivion. She responded to his gentle restraint by emitting a shriek of dissatisfaction that brought Heather running down the stairs with Edmund in her arms.
“You want me to feed her, Dougie?” she asked before she saw Ben.
“I think you have a visitor,” Doug said.
Heather was already starting to show, even though she wasn’t very far along. It was generally that way when a woman was carrying multiples. Maddie had insisted that his cousin was going to see her own obstetrician, Dr. Newcombe and not some rotating roster of newly-hatched doctors at the free clinic. Doug didn’t mind paying, but he hadn’t liked the fuss and commotion it had taken to get Heather to agree.
She was having a rougher time than many women with her first pregnancy. Between morning sickness and worry she didn’t have that glow that his Maddie had had when she was pregnant. She looked downright peaky. But she lit up like Christmas when she saw that scrawny pipsqueak PFC Benjamin Miller.
“Benny,” she cried joyfully. “Whatever are you doing here in Hanover?”
The boy looked between Doug and Heather as if his reasons for visiting were written in their faces. Doug was about to lose patience, when Miller blurted it out. “I got a furlough before I deploy. Dixon sent me an email. He says you got yourself in –” his voice faltered, “The family way.”
Heather nodded. “Why don’t we go and sit down in the living room. I just have to get a sippy cup for Abigail first.” She darted into the kitchen before Doug could say he would get it.
“Sit down, Miller.” He fastened his eyes sternly on the boy. “Do you have any reason to think Heather’s problem is down to you?”
Miller’s pimples got even bigger and brighter, he swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a cork in a flood. “No, sir. But I reckon, if she needs to be married, I’m as good as most and better than many.” Having said his piece, he lowered his eyes to the ground and folded his raw-boned hands on his knees.
There was no point in laughing at the boy. He was trying his best to be a hero. And there were worse things a man could try to be. “You’ll have to take that up with Heather,” Doug said. Abigail chose that moment to launch herself sideways at the visitor. Doug almost lost her.
Miller’s eyes were like saucers. He swallowed again, and his pimples looked purple against his now white skin. “You’ve got two of them?” he asked in a voice of horror.
“Three. The other girl is still asleep.”
Miller swallowed harder. His mouth opened but no words came out. The enormity of what he had inte
nded was sinking home. Doug gave him an encouraging smile that made the kid rear back against his seat as though he had been threatened with a bayonet. Maybe he should practice that one in the mirror.
Heather returned. “Let’s swap,” she said. She handed Doug little Edmund and took the now shrieking Abigail. She sat down beside Miller and handed Abigail her milk. Happy gurgles replaced the toddler’s wails. “It’s good to see you, Ben, what brings you to visit?”
“Dix said you had a baby coming, and no father.”
It was Heather’s turn to blush. Doug had a feeling he should tiptoe into the other room and leave these two to work things out. But this was likely to be the most amusement he had all day, so he leaned back to enjoy the show. Edmund gave a sleepy gurgle and grabbed his daddy’s finger.
“I’m not getting married to the daddy,” Heather said. “If that’s what you mean?”
“It is. Dixon said it was all over town. I got to thinking, you and Amber were awful good friends to me growing up, and I didn’t like to hear people talking hard about you. So I thought maybe,” Ben broke off and looked around for inspiration.
“You thought,” Heather said in a very gentle voice.
Miller cleared his throat. It was a painful noise. And then he tried again. “I think you should marry me, Heather, and give your babies a name. I’m going overseas next month, but if I get the big one, there’d at least be a pension for you. It would be better than nothing.”
Abigail was drinking with her usual enthusiasm. Doug figured in about another second and a half she was going to come to the end of her milk and have herself a tantrum. But Heather was no longer a neophyte. She had wrestled with Miss Abigail Enright before. She stopped the little girl from flinging her cup across the room.
Miller’s eyes were even bigger as Heather wiped Abby’s mouth with the flannel blanket she had tossed over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that, Benny. But it is sweet of you to ask. I will treasure your offer all my life. But it wouldn’t be fair. And it wouldn’t be right.” She leaned over and kissed that spotty cheek like she wanted to.
Bear Sin Page 4
