Garrett set the groceries on the kitchen counter with a thud. He had shaved before going into town, and the tantalizing fragrance of his aftershave still clung to his jaw. His dark hair was tousled. He had on worn jeans and an untucked dark blue shirt that brought out the intense sea blue of his eyes. “I thought you weren’t going to throw my mother to the wolves.”
Determined not to put herself in an emotionally vulnerable position with him, especially when it came to the foundation work, she said, “I’m not.”
He strode closer, clearly trying to intimidate her. “Then?”
She feigned immunity to his disapproval. “Lucille called while you were out. Half an hour ago, the foundation’s attorney received a demand letter from a lawyer representing fifteen of the charities.” Keeping her voice low, she shifted Max a little higher in her arms so he could look out over her shoulder. “They’re threatening to sue.”
Garrett’s gaze darkened as the information sank in.
“Apparently, it’s going to be an exclusive for KTWX on the eleven o’clock news. Which is why I called my contact at rival KMVU, and told her the promised payments had been going out all afternoon at the foundation offices, and would be completed by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
“And my mother approved this.”
“I spoke with her at length, while you were in town. She understands that we have to make it clear she was doing the right thing before she received the threatening demand letter. Otherwise it looks as if she only followed through because she was facing legal action. Which brings me to the next thing we need to discuss...the personal check you wrote to West Texas Warrior Assistance.”
As she moved closer, Max reached out and put a tiny fist in the short sleeve of Garrett’s shirt. Ignoring the tender look he threw her son, Hope swallowed through the dryness of her throat and prodded, “In addition to the five thousand dollar check you were to deliver from the foundation.”
His expression quickly became veiled. He squinted. “How did you know about that?”
Easy. “Bess Monroe wrote your mother an email, thanking her and citing your generosity. Your mom was impressed, by the way.”
So was she.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he told her gruffly. “And don’t even think about putting what I did in any press release.”
Luckily she hadn’t thus far. Mostly because she had wanted to speak with him first and find out what had prompted him to be so generous, when she knew from Lucille that he and his siblings lived only on what they were each able to bring in, which in his case was his military salary. She watched as Max fisted his other hand in Garrett’s shirt. “Why not?” Figuring she might as well let Max have what he wanted, she transferred her little boy to Garrett’s waiting arms.
“Because it’s not really charity if anyone knows about it.” Despite the tension hovering between them, Garrett flashed a heart-melting grin at the baby cuddled against his chest. “It’s grandstanding for attention.”
Tenderness drifted through Hope at the sight of her son’s blond head nestled against Garrett’s chest. “My grandmother used to say that.”
“It’s true.”
Hope began putting groceries away. “That sentiment must put you at odds with the new family business.”
Garrett lounged against the counter. “I think what my father and mother wanted to do was great.”
Spying an opening for the job Lucille wanted her to do, Hope said offhandedly, “Ever thought of joining the foundation? Maybe as the new CEO?”
His brows lowered like thunderclaps over his gorgeous blue eyes. “No.”
“It could help.” She stood on tiptoe to put the cereal on the appropriate pantry shelf.
She felt his glance rove her bare legs, the trim lines of her skirt, blouse. “Ask Adelaide.”
Her body warmed everywhere his eyes had touched. Hitching in a breath, Hope worked to keep her mind on the problem at hand. “Can’t. Optics.”
His gaze locked on hers. “Sins of the father...?”
“Something like that,” she answered, flushing self-consciously. “It’s best, at least for now, that Adelaide stay well in the background of any story on this. The last thing she needs when pregnant with twins, and absorbing her father’s betrayal, is to be hounded by the press.”
“True.”
“So, back to the sit-down your mother is going to do here the day after tomorrow. The bunkhouse is great. We can film in here, but we’ll also be taking a tour of the land, and we can’t have the ranch looking so unkempt overall.”
“It’s already been taken care of,” he informed her. “Chance and Wyatt are bringing over their farm tractors first thing in the morning. Tank and a couple other rehabbing vets are going to mow all the grass and pastures. They need the work and we need it done.”
Wow. He was really on the ball. “Does Bess Monroe know this, too?”
Garrett grimaced. “I didn’t mention it. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a big deal out of it, either. These guys have had their manhoods wrecked by their injuries. They don’t need anyone painting them as charity cases, because they’re not.”
“Got it, Captain.”
Looking relieved, he turned Max around so his diapered bottom was resting on Garrett’s forearm, his back to Garrett’s chest. His tiny little hands curled around the wrist stabilizing his middle.
Max blinked at Hope. Smiled.
She smiled back at her son.
“Are you done working for the evening?”
Hope shook her head. “As soon as I nurse Max again and get him down for the evening, I’m going to work on the practice Q&A for your mom. She has to rehearse for the TV interview.”
Garrett’s gaze narrowed skeptically. But for once he had no ready remark.
“It will be much easier for her if she feels prepared,” Hope explained.
He quirked his brow. “And to do that...?”
“I’ll write the questions Lucille’s liable to be asked and then print out the answers she needs to memorize.”
“Sure you don’t need to make up some cue cards for her, too?”
Here at last was the sardonic man she had met on the plane. “That will come later.”
He did a double take. “I was kidding.”
“I’m not.” Deciding she had been ensnared in Garrett’s keen blue gaze far too long, Hope turned away. His increasing discontent was not her problem when she had a job to do. “We’re also going to make a short, interview-style video of our own to put up on YouTube and the foundation website. That way we’ll be able to make sure that everything that needs to get said will get said, in exactly the way it should be.”
“And here I thought the overly scripted part of my family’s life was over,” he muttered. He looked at her long and hard. Loathing the suggestion she was somehow creating a fake tableau, she stared right back.
He exhaled roughly. “Guess not.”
Carefully he transferred Max to her, spun around and walked out the door.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Garrett met his brother Chance at the office building he owned. His younger brother elbowed him in the ribs. “I thought you’d be making time with Hope tonight.”
Garrett flipped him off. “Funny.”
Chance needled him with a long look. “Sure seemed to be something happening between the two of you earlier today.”
There had been. Until Hope had gone back to manipulating events to ensure the outcome she was determined to have.
Then something in Garrett had gone cold.
The last thing he wanted was to spend more of his life worried about how everything appeared on the surface, rather than what should be going on deep inside. He’d had enough of that in his childhood and when he was engaged. He wasn’t going down that road again. Not professionally. And definitely not personally.
Garrett unlocked the door and strolled inside. “Next thing I know you’ll be saying we were communicating without words.”
Chuckling, Chance joined him in the small, outdated lobby. “Weren’t you?”
“Keep it up and I’ll tell you where you can put your asinine observations.” Garrett switched on the lights.
Chance laughed all the more. When Garrett declined to join in, his younger brother finally slipped into general contractor mode. “So, what were you thinking of doing here?”
Garrett was surprised to hear himself say, “Gutting it and renovating it instead of selling it, as is, for pennies on the dollar.”
“Keep going.” Although he made his living raising and investing in rodeo bulls, Chance still earned money on the side, the way he had before he’d gotten into ranching, by doing home repairs and remodeling work.
“I want to take the elevators out of the center of the building and move them over to one side. Have two of them, instead of three. And make them look like the freight elevators you have in lofts, with a cage door on the front.”
Chance made notes. “It could be done. What else?”
“I’d like the first floor to be completely open. On the second and third floors, I’d like to have four private offices and a larger meeting room.”
Chance looked up. “I’m assuming you already have a tenant in mind.”
Which was, Garrett knew, in some respects even crazier for someone who wanted to cut ties with his past in Texas. Being careful to keep a poker face, he nodded. “I know some people who might be interested, if the work was done in advance. So can you get me an estimate?”
“Sure thing. What are you going to do about the Victorian?”
Another dilemma. One he hadn’t expected. Garrett said gruffly, “I have to clean it up before I can do anything with it.”
Chance’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “And then...?”
Garrett rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. “Still thinking.”
“Might not hurt to keep it for a while. As a home base, for when you visit.”
And remember how Hope’s eyes had lit up in wonder and delight the first time she walked through it with him?
Tensing, Garrett said, “Or not.”
“Have you had any offers on that?”
“Just a call from Molly Griffin, that local interior designer and general contractor. She offered to redo it for me, if I wanted to make a little money on it.”
Chance groaned. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do us both a favor and don’t listen to Molly Griffin.”
“Do I detect a little emotion there, brother?” Now this was interesting...
Chance scowled. “Just take my advice.”
“Why?”
Another grimace. “Because she’s a social-climbing pain in the ass.”
Ah. Garrett shook his head at Chance. “Well, so long as you like her, then...”
“I. Don’t.”
“Now who doth protest too much?”
This time, Chance flipped him off. Garrett laughed despite himself as the two brothers walked out together.
“By the way, that was a pretty nice thing you did for the West Texas Warrior Assistance program,” Chance said, when they reached their pickup trucks.
Garrett bit down on a string of oaths. Was nothing private around here? “How did you hear about it?”
His baby brother grinned and slapped his shoulder amiably. “In Laramie County, good news travels fast.”
* * *
THE LIGHTS WERE on in the Circle H bunkhouse when Garrett turned the borrowed pickup into the driveway around 11:00 p.m. The blinds were pulled.
Inside, Hope was clad in a pair of thigh-length white cotton shorts that showed off her long legs to perfection and a loose-fitting pink cotton camp shirt. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. Her feet were bare. A blue cotton burp cloth had been thrown over one shoulder and Max had both his fists resting on her shoulder. Wide awake, with milk bubbles on his lips, he was looking around. He smiled when he caught sight of Garrett and bobbed his sturdy little body up and down excitedly.
Hope turned, a welcoming smile on her face.
If she was still piqued from their slight tiff earlier, Garrett observed, she wasn’t showing it as she patted her son’s back, nuzzling his blond head.
To his surprise, he found his irritation with Hope gone, too. The time-out from each other had helped. So had the realization that in a temporary hookup, which was what Hope kept insisting this was, each individual’s values didn’t have to line up the way they would in a successful permanent arrangement. In a fling, all that mattered was for a couple to have fun hanging out together, and they did, and have an even better time in bed. Which was also where they really clicked.
Work never factored into it.
Nor did their long-term wants, needs and expectations.
So there was no reason they couldn’t continue to enjoy each other’s company in the short amount of time they had left at the ranch.
Hope glanced at Garrett, admitting ruefully, “I think Max expects rocking up and down like this will actually launch him where he wants to go.”
It certainly appeared that way, Garrett thought with amusement as he crossed the room to their side.
Max pushed up harder.
Hope’s smile widened. “Do you mind holding him for a second? I’m trying to warm his bottle for him.”
“Sure.”
No sooner had Garrett shifted Max onto his shoulder than a loud burst of air escaped. Hope wrinkled her nose at the odor of digesting milk.
“Or maybe not...” she said. “Given what he’s about to do.”
The smell emanating from the diaper area told the whole story. He slanted her a glance. “You think I’m afraid of a little poop?”
She propped her hands on her hips. Lifted her chin. “Aren’t you?”
Garrett knew when he was being tested. “Nah. Best he get it out now. Otherwise, it will wake us all later.”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “True.”
He glanced at the work spread out over the plank table. It appeared she had been as busy as he had.
“Still writing the Q&A?”
As much as he was loath to admit it, he figured it was necessary. His mother always felt better when she had a script to follow.
“No,” Hope said cheerfully. “I finished that a few hours ago.” She chuckled as her son balled up his fists, turned red and worked on his task with a few healthy grunts.
“Ah, the joys of parenthood,” he teased.
Hope groaned and shook her head. “You have no idea...”
He was beginning to get one, though.
Garrett watched as she tested the baby formula on her wrist, then, still finding it lacking, put the bottle back in the bowl of warm water.
She ambled closer. The increasing odor had them both wrinkling their noses.
“Sure?” she teased, holding out her hands, as if to take Max. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
This was all part of having a kid in your life. To his surprise, he liked every moment, even this. He would really miss Max when he was gone.
Max’s mommy, too.
If he were honest...
Which was why he should keep things nice and casual between them.
He gave a wry smile. What better way to keep the romance out of the situation than by dealing with a little stink? He stared at her, deadpan. “To show you what a trouper I am, I’ll even change his diaper.”
Hope’s merry laughter filled the bunkhouse. “This I have to see.”
She accompanied them to the makeshift changing area she had set up on the sofa. Garrett laid the infant down on the thick, waterproof pad. Keeping hold of Max, the way he’d seen Hope do, he sat down, too. The snaps that ran down both legs of Max’s sleeper were easy to undo. Same with unhooking the sides of the diaper.
He peeled it back. Dared a peek. Couldn’t help but groan right along with Hope.
It was so gross.
“You can still bail,” Hope challenged him.
“Nope.” Garrett lifted the little boy off the mess, folded the messy diaper in half, put it aside and set Max back down on the waterproof pad. “I’m doing it. Aren’t I, Max?”
Garrett plucked the wipes out, one after another, carefully cleaning until Max’s entire diaper area was as clean as a whistle. Which wasn’t exactly easy, since Max kicked his legs and feet the entire time and tried to grab the soiled wipes with his little hands.
Hope hovered. “You’ve got a little spillover on the changing pad...”
“I’ve got it.” Using more wipes, Garrett cleaned that, too. And then Max’s little hands and feet, for good measure. Satisfied all was well, he slid a fresh diaper beneath the baby, fit it against him, just the way he had seen Hope do dozens of times in the past week, then fastened the tabs. The sleeper got snapped up, too, although that took a moment to figure out. “Now you can have him while I go wash my hands,” Garrett declared proudly.
“Good job, Dad,” Hope teased.
Dad?
Funny, he liked the sound of that, unexpected as it was to hear.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she rushed on. “I don’t know why I said that. I must be getting a little punchy.”
Or you just have your defenses down.
He paused to let her change places with him. He shrugged off her mistake matter-of-factly, for both their sakes. “It’s probably because I’ve been acting like one...”
“Or because Max doesn’t really have one.” Hastily, Hope gathered her now fragrant-smelling son into her arms. “So no one currently has that title, which is why it was okay to make a joke, because I wasn’t taking anything away from anyone else.”
He stared at her in surprise as her face flushed bright red. He had never imagined she could be so embarrassed. “You really don’t have to spin this, Hope,” he said gently. “I’m not offended.”
Flattered, maybe. Crazy as that sounded. But not offended. Nope. Not offended in the least. Still ruminating on the reasons behind her Freudian slip, Garrett went to the kitchen sink and lathered up well.
Hope followed him. “Okay. Because I—” she tipped her head up to his, Max still gathered against her breasts “—I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for us the past few days. From buying groceries to taking us to the hospital, to holding Max and giving him a bottle and changing his diaper.”
He had pretty much done it all.
Aware she looked as if she felt she and Max had imposed on him, Garrett waved off her guilt. “You’ve been helping my family. I’m helping yours. It’s the way the world works.”
“Or should,” she said, a slight catch in her voice.
Another silence fell, more companionable this time.
Max looked at the bottle of milk. He gave a little lurch. “Meh...meh...”
Garrett took it out of the warm water, wiped the outside dry then tested it on Hope’s wrist. “Perfect,” she said.
He handed it to her and she settled on the sofa, Max in her arms, and began to feed him. But not before he’d gotten in a few more hungry cries.
Garrett settled beside them, observing softly, “It almost sounds like he’s saying Mom, Mom, instead of meh, meh.”
“I know.” Hope smiled tenderly, admitting, “I can’t wait for the day when he really does call me that.”
The question was, would he be around to witness it? “It won’t be too long,” Garrett predicted, leaning close enough to breathe in the baby powder scent of them both.
Hope sighed wistfully. “Actually, it will be months from now, according to the developmental timeline.”
Months.
Would he even recognize Max by then? He knew how much babies could change in appearance as they grew the first couple of years. The differences were even more significant when you weren’t seeing the baby every day, the way he was now.
He forced himself not to think about that.
Or grow maudlin—as Hope looked about to do.
After all, no permanent decisions had been made.
Garrett tucked his little finger into the center of Max’s fist, grinned when the baby gripped it tightly. As if he didn’t want to let Garrett go any more than Garrett wanted to let Hope and Max go.
“Yeah, well,” Garrett predicted gruffly, pushing the unwanted emotion away, “I think Max is so exceptional he’ll be way ahead of that.”
Hope beamed. “I do, too.”
They exchanged grins.
In that moment, he saw the faint shadows beneath her eyes that even makeup couldn’t hide. He thought about the fact that she still wasn’t making enough milk and that the prescription for that was a healthy diet and lots of rest. The latter of which she definitely had not gotten today.
“You look a little tired,” he told her, not sure if it was the lover in him or the physician doing the talking. “Want me to finish feeding Max while you get ready for bed?” So she and her baby boy could drift right off to sleep?
Hope mistook his suggestion. The color came back into her cheeks. “Oh, I’m not headed for the sack,” she said firmly, squaring her slender shoulders. “At least, not anytime soon.”