Posey had been so sad to learn of Mary McGregor’s death. Not only was she a lovely woman, she’d been so welcoming and warm that Posey had looked forward to living next door to her. She would have had no qualms at all about leaving Trixie with Mary for a few hours while she went for groceries and ran errands.
Even though Zack was Mary’s son, however, and she had no reason to believe he wasn’t as kind as his mother, Posey couldn’t trust him in quite the same way. She’d believed Trevor incapable of harming his own daughter and he’d proved her very wrong. She wouldn’t gamble with Trixie again.
Lydia, however, did seem content in her uncle’s company. Posey’s heart melted. She tried to imagine Trixie without her, but couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. If anything happened to her, all Trixie would have left was her father—and Posey, who’d lost her own mother at a young age, knew how that would play out.
She didn’t know how to prevent it. Uncle Bart, who’d told her not to marry Trevor in the first place, had been no help whatsoever, other than to recommend she put Trixie’s inheritance into a trust fund managed by someone willing to fight Trevor for control of it. The money was all he really wanted.
“He’s not finished,” her uncle had warned her. “His kind never are.”
So she’d put two thousand miles between them.
“As long as you’re sure,” Zack said, with exactly the right amount of reluctance to tell her that he wanted something, too.
She forced herself to look in his eyes and smile, keeping her mistrust under wraps. People in Grand liked to talk. She’d heard the McGregor brothers had financial difficulties, and money, as her father used to point out, was all she had going for her. His nickname for her had been Mouse.
But the McGregors were also highly regarded in Grand and Posey wouldn’t deny Trixie a friend. She’d simply make sure she retained control of the terms of the friendship.
“Why not bring Lydia by at twelve and I’ll give them lunch?” she suggested. “Trixie goes down for a nap around one o’clock.”
Zack’s eyebrows pinched closer together even as sky-blue eyes widened. For the first time, his outward confidence slipped. “Trixie naps?”
“She does,” Posey confirmed. “Doesn’t Lydia?”
Zack studied his niece, who was deep in a staring contest with Trixie. His expression was priceless. He really didn’t know a thing about children.
Posey wouldn’t judge. She’d known nothing about babies before Trixie, either.
“No,” he said. “Maybe she should though, because that would explain why she sprawls on the floor after lunch and refuses to move, and her split personality disorder. We thought maybe she’s possessed, so we’ve been keeping her busy, hoping it’ll make whatever demon controls her sleep better at night.”
Did they really believe wearing a two-year-old out to the point of exhaustion was healthy? “She’ll sleep just fine at night, even if she naps in the afternoon.”
Zack rubbed his niece’s dandelion-fluff head. “Sorry, Lyds. We’ll cancel the exorcist and check if sleep deprivation is the real demon, first.”
He seemed so funny and sweet, and even though she knew better, Posey was falling for it. Why couldn’t Trevor have been this way with Trixie?
He’d been so excited about the baby—right up until her uncle had insisted on the prenup.
“Bring her for lunch,” she repeated. “I’ll see if I can get her to nap at the same time as Trixie.”
“Thanks.”
She and Zack looked at each other. Things didn’t exactly become awkward because he appeared oblivious as to why they might. She couldn’t figure him out.
“Don’t let us keep you. You’d probably like to finish your walk,” she said, giving him a broad hint that he should be going.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Zack shook off whatever he was daydreaming about. He reached into the mesh storage bag on the back of the stroller and pulled out a yellow sippy cup. “I don’t suppose I could fill this with water, first? I forgot to do it before I left the house.”
She could think of several reasons why she should refuse, but none that carried real weight when he had a toddler with him, so she didn’t object when he and Lydia followed her into the garage. She parked the stroller next to the door to the kitchen and unbuckled Trixie.
Zack waited in the doorway while she filled the sippy cup at the sink, checking out the room. She liked her bright, cheerful kitchen with the enormous window that faced the road. It was designed to be lived in. She’d bought new appliances and had them installed, but thought she’d paint the battered pine cupboards herself rather than replace them. The craftsmanship of the originals was excellent.
She passed him the filled cup and he thanked her again.
“See you at twelve,” he said. “Bye-bye, Trixie.” He earned extra points by getting down to her level again as he spoke.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he and Lydia were gone.
Posey closed the door and locked it. Through the window, she could see them as they passed in front of her house and made their way toward the bridge and the footpath that crossed it. Zack looked as if he might be singing to Lydia.
She didn’t know what to make of him.
The morning had barely begun, meaning there was a lot of time to fill before lunch. Grand, while quiet and pretty, didn’t have a lot going for it in terms of toddler entertainment. She wasn’t yet ready to join the “mommy and me” group at the local library.
They could visit with Eleanor, but Eleanor had begun to push Posey about making friends—for Posey, not Trixie—and she wasn’t ready for that, either. She’d also gently suggested that Posey seek counseling.
Posey, however, had sought counseling before and already knew what the counselor would say—in a nutshell, she needed to learn to stand up for herself and become more independent. She was doing her best. She had two people to stand up for, now.
Since she didn’t need groceries, and the day was too nice to spend it indoors, she and Trixie were both in the back garden when Zack and Lydia returned.
She was on her hands and knees, trowel in hand, adding potatoes to the small vegetable plot she’d started. Trixie chased a butterfly, trying to cup it in her small hands, while Posey kept a close eye on her. She hadn’t yet tried to escape past the pitiful excuse for a hedge, but Posey wasn’t taking any chances. Not only did the house sit too close to the road, but the Tongue River flowed languidly behind it. She’d have to fence the backyard, but she couldn’t do it herself and she didn’t want strangers invading her personal space.
Zack swung Lydia over the hedge and set her on her feet on the ground before stepping over it himself. His long legs cleared it with ease.
“You need a fence,” he announced.
Posey curled up inside. She rocked back on her heels, gripping the trowel. “I know. But there were so many other things that had to be done after we moved in. I never leave Trixie out here alone, though. And I’ll keep a close eye on Lydia, too. I promise.”
Blue eyes regarded her with an appearance of genuine surprise. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply any criticism. I was leading up to an offer to help you build one in exchange for you keeping Lydia.”
She’d leaped straight to defensive. She couldn’t possibly feel any more foolish about it, but old habits died hard. Guilt had factored in, too, because she’d just been thinking that very same thing—that she was putting her own interests ahead of her daughter’s safety. Again.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she said.
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He hunkered down to accept the bouquet of grass Trixie offered him, then didn’t appear to quite know what to do with it.
“You wait until she’s not looking,” Posey volunteered. “That’s what I do.”
They were now almost at eye level, separated by a few feet of freshly turned earth. His warm, steady gaze reminded her of his mother, who’d stood in this very same spot and extended kindness
to her. Trixie liked him, and children were reasonably good judges of character. What was the harm in exchanging neighborly favors, as long as they kept them at equal value?
Trixie lost interest in Zack and focused instead on drawing Lydia’s attention to the longsuffering butterfly she’d been harassing for the past twenty minutes. Once her back was turned, Zack dusted the blades of grass off his palms.
“Putting up a fence is worth a lot more than a few hours of childcare,” Posey said. “I’ll order the material and you can estimate how long it will take to put up, then I’ll triple the amount of time for keeping Lydia in return.”
“Done,” he said quickly. “Remind me never to take you to a horse sale with me. You’re terrible at negotiations.”
He was so sweet.
Warning bells went off like fireworks. Trevor had been like this. At first.
Three years later, she still cringed at how easily she’d been manipulated. She’d had a favorite coffee shop in Boston where she liked to sit and read. One day, he’d struck up a conversation about books. She’d been thrilled to discover they shared a common interest in reading material.
Of course they had. He’d studied her for days, checking out what she liked.
God, she was naïve.
Then she’d gotten pregnant, and he’d been overjoyed—looking back on it, she was fairly certain he’d poked holes in the condoms—and everything had been fantastic, up until Uncle Bart presented him with the prenuptial agreement.
Sadly, she’d been as eager to get out from under her uncle’s control as she was to give her unborn baby a father. She’d dreamed of finally having the perfect family. At least she hadn’t been foolish enough to fight her uncle on the prenup. He might be controlling, but he’d only ever had her best interests at heart.
“If you’ve been holding off on the fence because you’ve had more important things to take care of, I can take a look around the ranch and see what we might have on hand. We’ve got a roll of chicken wire in one of the barns that I don’t think Jake has any plans for,” Zack offered. “It won’t take much time to put up and it won’t ruin the look of your yard. You can plant some shrubs on the side that faces the road.”
Posey examined the offer from every angle, trying to figure out what the catch was. What the benefit to him might be. She couldn’t find one.
Understanding gradually dawned. He didn’t know she had money. He likely assumed her ex-husband was paying her support and had made a kind, generous offer. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the absurdity of that possibility. Other than Eleanor, when was the last time someone had done something for her simply to be nice?
She had to swallow before she could speak. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Chapter Three
Zack didn’t know a thing about Posey’s ex, but already, he didn’t like him.
Since she had no idea how to make a deal, he was willing to bet she’d gotten hosed in the divorce. It would explain why she’d gotten so bent out of shape when he’d brought up the fence.
And yet she screamed money. There was just something about her. Her clothes, Trixie’s, too, while nothing fancy, had quality written all over them. He knew because his niece and nephews, who had a tidy inheritance thanks to their father, wore clothes that withstood Jake’s mad, bleach-everything laundry skills better than Zack’s dress shirts had.
The ex was likely some bigwig executive more invested in his career than his family. Zack, a former corporate accountant—a job he’d been so happy to leave behind—knew the type well and he couldn’t see Posey, an introvert, fitting into the lifestyle. Not if she’d chosen a place like Grand to rebuild, although granted, easterners always seemed to come west when they wanted to get away from it all.
He could tell she was from the east—most likely Boston—because she dropped the r at the end of her words. Not consistently, meaning she was conscious of it, but more often than not. She’d switched from shorts to khaki leggings and matching T-shirt, and, kneeling in the small, sunny patch of garden, with her pale ponytail draped over one shoulder and a trowel in her hand, she looked like a long, lean fairy princess tending her domain.
He hated to leave, especially since the fairy princess was planting her potatoes upside down, but Jake and Luke were waiting for him. They were going to have lunch together and talk before heading to the lawyer’s.
“Here, let me show you,” he said, reaching for the small burlap sack of seed potatoes sitting beside her. She edged away. Okay. She was still jumpy around him. Good to know. “The eyes—these little white things right here—have to face up so they can sprout.”
A bright pink flush crept across her high cheekbones. She blushed so easily. It was as cute as her accent. Long, light-brown lashes fluttered over her steady gray gaze. The color of her eyes was amazing.
Zack had dated a model briefly in college. Contrary to popular belief, most weren’t hired for their beauty, but rather the symmetry of their features, and overall, Posey’s were perfect.
He’d quickly lost interest in the model, however. She was far too obsessed with her weight and he liked to cook. He liked it even more when he cooked for people who enjoyed food. Posey, while slender, didn’t appear underfed.
“I’ve never gardened, before,” she said. She flicked her ponytail off her shoulder, recovering her cool. “I did a lot of research on YouTube, but I guess I didn’t take very good notes.”
“Trial and error is a great way to learn.” Lydia, who he’d been keeping track of, crouched down to pick something up, and the movement caught his attention. “Whoa, Lyds. Hey. That isn’t food.” He caught his niece’s pudgy fist before she could cram the clump of dirt she’d discovered into her mouth. Who knew what that mulch contained? “As you can see,” he said to Posey, “she’s not a picky eater.” One of the many things he loved about her.
Posey set the trowel on the ground as if it were a delicate piece of art and rested her hands on her thighs, preparing to rise. “I should give them their lunch.”
Her hints that it was time for him to go weren’t exactly subtle, and again, it threw him off. He couldn’t think of a thing he’d done or said that would make her so uncomfortable with him, but she was, and that was what mattered.
He’d grow on her eventually. He was a people person. Everyone liked him. He normally didn’t have to work so hard for it though, making her a challenge.
And he liked a good challenge.
“I’ll be back for Lydia around three o’clock. Maybe a bit before.” He got to his feet and picked up his niece. “Behave yourself,” he said, tickling her under her chin. “Remember what I told you about summoning your demon friends. We save that for midnight when we’re sure Uncle Jake’s sound asleep.”
He tried to hand Lydia to Posey but the little girl Velcro-ed herself to his neck and started to cry.
“Hey, Lyds,” he said, taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to object. “It’s just for a few hours. We’re not giving you away.”
The steel gray of Posey’s eyes softened. She tucked her hands under Lydia’s arms and pried the sobbing child out of Zack’s reluctant grasp. She tucked Lydia’s head under her chin and stroked her back with one free hand, swaying gently in a rocking motion.
“Poor little sweetheart,” Posey murmured into her hair.
Trixie, attracted by the drama, toddled over to pat Lydia’s leg. “My mama.” Her tone of reproof left no doubt as to what her opinion on that was, either.
“Yes,” Posey reassured her young daughter, “I’m your mama, but today you’re going to share me with Lydia for a few hours.”
“No.” The matter was settled as far as Trixie was concerned.
It was for Zack, too. He couldn’t leave Lyddie crying like this. She missed her own mother, and had barely begun to get used to her uncles, and yet he was about to pawn her off on a stranger he knew literally nothing about.
He was usually better at thinking plan
s through, but he had very little experience planning playdates for kids. He’d pictured tea parties. Until this very moment, the adult supervision aspect to it hadn’t registered.
“We’ll take Lydia with us,” he said.
Posey half-turned away, clutching Lydia tighter. “We’ll be fine,” she assured him over Lydia’s head. “It will be good for them both. Trixie has to learn how to share and Lydia needs to understand that you’ll return for her.”
While she made perfect sense, how did he know he wouldn’t return only to find that the crazy cat lady in training refused to give Lyddie up?
Because she didn’t look as if she planned on handing her back to him anytime soon.
Lydia, still sobbing, rubbed her eyes with one grimy fist. She dropped her head on Posey’s shoulder.
“See?” Posey said. “She’s tired, that’s all. We’ll try to get her to eat a bit of lunch first, but if she doesn’t want to, I’ll put her down for a nap and she can have a snack after that.”
He tried to decide if he had it in him to tackle a woman and wrestle a baby from her. The jury was out.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,” he said. “We could try it another day when I can stick around while she gets used to you.”
Gray eyes widened. “Are you just now having second thoughts about leaving her with a stranger?”
Yes. Yes, he was. In theory, his plan had been a good one. In practice?
Not so much. “When you say it like that, you make me sound stupid.”
Posey laughed. Radiance splashed across the former blank canvas, shifting her from potentially plain to impossibly gorgeous. The transformation slapped him across the face. If Lydia had been a prized horse instead of his niece, in that moment, she’d be forgotten.
“Eleanor Fitzpatrick can vouch for me,” Posey said.
He said the first thing that popped into his head. “Mrs. Fitzpatrick can vouch for me, too.”
Brilliant.
“It’s settled, then. Lydia stays. We’ll be fine,” Posey repeated.
The Rancher's Proposal (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 3) Page 3
