He caught himself before he turned into one of those condescending jerks who mansplained things to women. She was trying to be independent and he didn’t need to trample all over her efforts.
He could see nothing wrong with offering to help her, though.
“There’s a bit more to it than that. I’m here to put up that fence I promised you. How about me prepping your patio while I’m at it? Then you can lay the stones yourself, if you want. Fair exchange of labor,” he added quickly, sensing she was about to refuse. “You’re going to owe me childcare big time and I could really use it. The boys are out of school for the summer and Jake needs me in the fields.”
He watched her mull that over, confident as soon as she figured out he was getting the better end of the deal, she’d be in favor. She didn’t want to owe anyone anything. He got it. And he planned to use it against her.
“I could do that,” she said.
Zero negotiating skills whatsoever.
She’d be coming to the zoo in Billings with them, too.
“Mac will help you out. He’s good with Lydia. I bet he’ll be good with Trixie, too. Although Finn’s a wild card,” he had to admit. “He’s only five and doesn’t really understand that his parents aren’t coming back, but he does know how to work all the slack we’ve been giving him.” Which, as Jake liked to point out, proved Zack wasn’t the only opportunist in the family. “He can be a handful.”
Jake had arranged for the boys to get therapy. In the meantime they’d all agreed to let Finn work it out in his head on his own, but be upfront with him when he asked questions. Mac was their real worry. He had way too much bottled-up anger over the unfairness of life—a harsh reality for any ten-year-old to have to deal with. He looked up to Jake though, and Jake was a good role model.
Posey’s face softened. “Poor Finn,” she said. “I lost my mother when I was four. I didn’t know what to make of it, either. She was there one day, then gone the next.”
“I’m sorry. What happened to her?” She sounded so matter-of-fact he didn’t take the time to consider maybe it wasn’t any of his business until it was too late.
Posey bent down to free Lydia, who’d begun to arch her back in protest and fuss over being trapped in the stroller. “No one ever told me,” she said as she unclipped the buckle, intent on her task. “I finally found out it was a drug overdose after my father passed away a few years ago. He kept the note she left him.”
A note implied it was premeditated. This was what he got for being too nosy.
He tried to figure out what the correct response was. He could let the subject drop, or he could be matter-of-fact about it too, since he wanted to learn more about her—not necessarily any details she might not care to share, but rather, the way she felt about things.
Things like what made her cry.
Last night, under cover of darkness, he’d seen the real Posey. The true fairy princess. The high blond ponytail she was wearing today might draw attention to the evenness of her perfect features, but she no longer gave him the impression of a blank canvas. When she allowed her feelings to surface, her natural beauty shone through, as well.
He couldn’t resist her.
Once freed, Lydia toddled off to examine the patch of dandelions sprouting beneath two overgrown hibiscus shrubs.
“He must have had his reasons for keeping it from you,” he said. “It’s hard to figure out the right balance of information to give a kid about a tragedy, or what’s age-appropriate. We might have told Finn too much because he had a meltdown on the plane when Jake tried to fly them home. Jake ended up driving here from New York. It took four days.”
Zack felt a small hand pat his leg. He looked down. Trixie raised her arms to indicate she wanted him to pick her up, which he did, because who could resist those Liz Taylor eyes?
Posey was going to have her hands full with this little beauty.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, tickling her neck and making her squeal.
The little girl was longer-limbed than Lydia, and lighter, built like her mother. Peripheral vision let him know Posey had gone into watchful, mother-hen mode. It annoyed him a little. Okay, to be exact, it hurt his feelings. What did she think he would do to her daughter, especially with her standing right there?
Trixie wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “Daddy,” she said, sounding as if she’d made a decision, she was happy with it, and the subject was closed.
Zack stared at Trixie. Trixie stared back.
Posey plucked her daughter from his arms. A wave of pink swept from the collar of her blouse, rolled up her throat, and washed over her cheeks.
She set Trixie on her feet. “Go play with Lydia,” she said in her soft, gentle voice, giving her daughter a nudge. Then, she looked at Zack. “Sorry. She doesn’t understand what she’s saying. Every woman is a mommy. Every man is a daddy.”
“Her father isn’t…” He didn’t know how to finish the question. There was no delicate way to come straight out and ask, but he might never get a better chance to find out about the MIA dad.
Posey frowned, trying to follow the thread he’d unraveled. Then, her face cleared as she traced it back to their previous topic of conversation. “No, he’s not dead.” The pink on her cheeks deepened to rose. “He lives in Boston.”
Trixie’s father was no longer in the picture, then. She’d put a lot of miles between them, too—which didn’t necessarily mean she was running, despite what Dan said.
He was kidding no one but himself. No man was going to let a woman as sweet and pretty as Posey, and a daughter as adorable as Trixie, just walk away without fighting for them. The tears were a good indication she might not be over him, either. Maybe there had been some misunderstanding that might still be resolved.
He should back off.
But she was sad. He couldn’t have that.
“I promised the kids I’d take them to the zoo on Sunday,” he said. “It’s my day to entertain them and I could use another adult for moral support. Would you and Trixie like to come along? You’d be doing me a favor. Plus, it would give you a chance to get to know the boys.”
Indecision fluttered on her face. She darted a quick glance at her daughter, who was showing Lydia how to use a toy hoe by hacking a dandelion to pieces. “Thank you, but I don’t think so.”
She made this so easy. He almost felt bad, but it was for her own good. Trixie’s, too. “Has Trixie ever been to the zoo?”
“She’s a two-year-old. I don’t think she knows what she’s missing.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “When was the last time you went to the zoo?”
“I’ve never been.”
“Never?” How was that even possible? “Didn’t your dad ever take you?”
“My father was in his sixties when my mother died. Entertaining a child wasn’t high on his list of priorities.”
He did the math in his head. No matter how he jiggled the numbers, he couldn’t make them add up.
Apparently he was also easy to read, because she provided the answer.
“My mother was thirty-three years younger than he was,” she said, and left it at that.
He wasn’t helping his own cause. So far this morning, he’d put his foot in it twice. He’d lost his lunch on her the other day, too. If she ever found out he’d spied on her last night, she’d likely move. From the moment they’d met, he’d done everything wrong.
“Come to the zoo with us,” he said. “We’ll take a picnic. It will be fun. Give the kids a chance to get to know each other, since they’re going to be neighbors.”
She bit her lip. “It’s not a good idea.”
“I assure you, my mother raised a gentleman. It’s a day at the zoo with four chaperones. Your reputation will be safe,” he said, straight-faced.
She quit chewing her lip. The start of a smile curved her mouth. Sunlight softened the gray of her eyes. “Am I coming across as a boring old lady?”
“I never said that
.”
“You didn’t not say it, either.” Her smile grew to epic proportions.
It kicked him in the knees and he had to blink to protect his eyes from the glare. It should be classed as a deadly weapon. Maybe that was why she was so protective of it.
Something else struck him with a force that was equal. He wanted her. He’d suspected it last night. Now he knew it for certain. She was gentle, and sweet, and so, so determined to be independent. She was trying to be strong.
But strong about what?
He didn’t want Dan to be right about that. Posey didn’t strike him as a woman who would run for no reason. Sooner or later, he’d get her story from her. His father, however, had taught him to approach a skittish horse with a great deal of patience, and Posey was skittish, no doubt about it.
“How about it, Grandma? Why not dust off the walker and exercise those arthritic joints?”
“We’d love to come,” she said, giving in. “Thank you for thinking of us.”
“Great.” Zack rubbed his hands. “I’ll leave Lydia with you while I run home for the wiring and tools. Let’s build you that fence and get your patio prepped.”
*
Zack rolled into her yard at eight o’clock Sunday morning.
He’d rented a minivan large enough to accommodate two adults, a ten-year-old, three safety seats, a picnic cooler, two strollers, and two overstuffed diaper bags, for the day.
“Three teams,” he said cheerfully, wedging Trixie’s seat into the van’s midsection next to Finn. Mac and Lydia were buckled into the rear. “Mac and Lyddie, Finn and Trixie, and me and Posey. We’re going to find out who can sit the longest without fighting with their seat mate. My money’s on Mac and Lyddie.” Zack made a vee with two fingers and pointed at his eyes, then at Finn, on the other side of the car seat he’d just installed. “And remember, I’ve got my eyes on you, pal.”
“Is it okay for Mac and me to fight? We’re not on the same team,” Finn said, wide-eyed and innocent.
Posey didn’t dare laugh. She understood why Zack said he could be a handful. He was too cute for his own good. He had dark red hair, and of the three children, he looked the most like his uncle. He had the same restless energy, too.
Mac, on the other hand, was dark-haired and more reserved. In a few more years, the girls were going to go crazy for him. All three children had beautiful, intense green eyes the color of sea glass.
Posey’s heart went out to them. Their world had been completely upended. While she was sure Zack and his brothers were doing their best, she knew how hard it was—how bewildering—for a young child to lose a parent. Losing both at once had to be devastating.
She used to wonder what she should have done to prevent her mother from dying. She’d truly believed that, if she’d only done the right thing—if she’d figured it out soon enough—it would have changed everything. It was that same inner child who’d believed she could save a marriage built on lies and deceit. In both instances, grown-up Posey knew better.
Mac and Finn weren’t grown-ups, however, even though Mac gave a good impression of one.
“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Zack responded to Finn. “You can go ahead and try to fight with Mac all you like, but good luck, because you can’t turn around. Why do you think you’re strapped into the seat in front of him?”
He was starting off well, she conceded, but they’d find out how much good humor he retained by the end of the day. It took more than two hours to drive to Billings—an eternity to four children.
She fastened Trixie into her seat beside Finn, gave her a quick kiss and smiled at the little boy, then slid the panel door closed. She handed her diaper bag to Zack to store in the back and reached for the front passenger door.
“Here. Let me get that for you,” he said.
He reached past her for the door handle.
The unexpected movement caught her off guard. She shied away from him, bumping into the side of the van, her heart rate ratcheting into the danger zone that caused the world to spin. Instinct had her half-raise her arm to protect her head.
Then she realized what she was doing, and who she was with, and she jerked it down.
Zack opened the door. She kept her face averted, praying he hadn’t noticed how she’d reacted. She groped for the seat, steadying herself. He took her elbow and helped her climb in.
“Buckle up,” he said, before closing the door.
He jogged around to the back of the van. She heard him open the rear door and toss the diaper bag inside, slam the door, then come around to the driver’s side. He clambered into the bucket seat next to her.
“Everybody ready?” he called out, earning him a rousing assent from Finn that left Trixie, seated next to him, covering her ears. “How about you?” Zack asked Posey. “You good?”
“Yes,” she said, able to breathe again. Nothing about his behavior suggested he thought anything out of the ordinary had occurred.
He checked the rearview mirror, making sure the kids were settled in, then shifted his gaze back to the road. A short while later, they were on the I-94 and headed for Billings. He was a good driver, steady behind the wheel and sure of himself.
She darted glances at him as he drove. She didn’t know what to make of him. He’d spent an entire morning installing a fence for her. He’d come back that afternoon and prepared the bed for the patio stones, too. Having two little helpers who impeded his progress and demanded attention hadn’t dimmed his good humor, either. All he seemed to expect from her in return was a playmate for Lydia and childcare for the summer, both of which she was happy to provide. She loved children.
“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked.
Her cheeks burned. She’d been caught staring. He stared at her too sometimes, and she’d never called him on it. How was this fair?
“About what?”
“You’re wondering something about me. Go ahead and ask. Anything you like. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”
“Even if it’s personal?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Those are the best kinds of questions.”
He’d given her permission. She might as well take advantage of it. “You always seem so together. Do you ever lose your temper?”
She couldn’t believe that was what she’d chosen to ask. Why not how old he was?
Because his age didn’t matter as much to her. She’d asked the question because she had yet to see him when he wasn’t good-humored, and that couldn’t possibly be normal. No one was this easygoing.
His eyebrows rode up. “Stereotype, much? Seriously. A little politically incorrect, don’t you think? Not all gingers are hotheads, you know.”
Oh-my-god.
She’d gone too far. Been too personal. She edged closer to the door. “No, of course they’re not. I mean I—”
She caught herself. He was teasing, something she wasn’t used to. She’d been so shy growing up, and so plain, no boys had bothered. Not until Trevor.
She should have known he wasn’t sincere.
Mouse.
She wasn’t a mouse, anymore. She knew how to stand up for herself. She wasn’t as easily fooled anymore, either.
And, in truth, she’d been looking forward to this trip with Zack and the children. She didn’t make friends easily and she missed adult conversation.
Zack had told her he didn’t plan to be in Grand forever either, meaning his interest wasn’t anything she had to be alarmed about, which was good, because she didn’t think she could survive another one of Uncle Bart’s lectures about men and their motives when it came to her money. She definitely wasn’t bringing another Trevor into Trixie’s life.
But it didn’t mean she couldn’t have friends, and this was her chance. Her name meant nothing to anyone outside of Boston. Here in Grand, people were friendly to her simply because they were nice.
“I’m just curious,” she said, daring to tease him in return because she had to be braver in her interactions with peo
ple and he made it easy. “You always seem so easy-going. Nothing bothers you. I read somewhere that extraordinary self-control is a sure sign of a sociopath or a serial killer.”
Or someone pretending to be something he wasn’t.
“I doubt if serial killers have weak stomachs,” he said.
“That’s true,” she acknowledged. “So then, do you? Ever lose your temper?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course I do. But losing my temper doesn’t mean losing control. I have two older brothers. I learned a long time ago that picking fights with them was only going to get me a whupping, so these days, I pick my battles.” He glanced sideways at her. The seriousness vanished. “I’m not going to pick a fight with you though, if that’s what you’re worried about. I only bet on Mac to motivate you-know-who to behave. I’m pretty sure you and I can get along until we reach Billings.”
Zack was smooth. Not as smooth as Trevor, perhaps, but still. She should be more cautious.
She asked the question she should have asked instead of the dumb one she did. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Not so fast,” he said. “It’s my turn. Tell me how old you are, first.”
“I’m thirty.”
“You really are a grandma. I’m twenty-eight.”
She was a little surprised. “I thought you were younger than that.”
“Because of my baby face. Women can’t resist it, you know.”
He said it with such pride, nodding as he spoke, that she had to laugh. Finn definitely inherited his charm from him, although she could have told him that the baby face—which was far too handsome to be called that—wasn’t what women found so irresistible. He had excellent manners. He opened doors. He insisted on doing the heavy lifting around her yard, even though she was the one who wanted to build a patio.
And he listened to her. She’d confided in him about her mother’s death—something she’d never told anyone, not even Trevor when she’d been in love. Zack would be easy for any woman to fall for.
Red flags began waving. How stupid was she?
She didn’t know him.
“Next question,” she said. “What do you do when you aren’t ranching in Grand?”
The Rancher's Proposal (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 3) Page 6
