“Please stop asking me that. Everything is fine,” Hope insisted agitatedly, for the third time, twenty minutes later.
Except clearly it wasn’t, Garrett thought, as he drove them back to the ranch. “Are you angry because I woke you up?”
“Of course not.” Resting her elbow on the SUV window, she shaded her eyes with her hand. “I couldn’t just continue to sleep in a grocery store parking lot. Not when I have Max waiting and so much work to do.”
He got that she was frustrated and embarrassed. But why unleash those emotions on him? Unless she somehow blamed him, too. For predicting she might doze off behind the steering wheel? For being there to protect her? For making love with her when she should have been bypassing their budding relationship and working, in her view?
And it was a relationship, even if she wouldn’t yet admit it.
Still trying to coax a smile out of her, he teased. “Even if there had been a way to move you out of the driver’s seat without rousing you, I’m not so sure it would have been good ‘optics,’ me lifting a quietly snoring woman out of one area of the car and stowing her in another.”
Hope turned to him in sharply waning forbearance.
Irked to find them so completely out of sync, he surrendered. “Okay. Bad joke. You weren’t snoring, loudly or otherwise. But...” Maybe it was better they get her emotions out in the open. Let whatever was bothering her surface, so they could deal with it. Together. He slanted her a deliberately provoking glance. “You do agree you were in no condition to drive?”
Hope shook another ice chip into her mouth. “You were right, okay?” she snapped finally. “I was too tired. I screwed up. And you win. Okay?”
No, it wasn’t okay, he thought, as she continued staring out at the pastures dotted with cattle and horses, and the occasional goats or alpacas. And it hadn’t been about winning. Or losing. Just safety. Pure and simple. That, and maybe his overwhelming need to take care of her. A need she now seemed to reject.
This, after accepting his assistance for days now, however and whenever she needed it. Garrett wondered if sleep would help. “You can close your eyes, if you want,” he said softly.
She turned and gave him another long-suffering look that made him want to take her in his arms, hold her close and kiss her until her unprecedentedly grumpy mood passed. Her patience clearly at an end, she shook her head in silent remonstration. She sighed, pulled out her phone and punched in a number.
Maybe it was post-pregnancy hormones.
Knowing better than to suggest that, however, he paused at an unmarked intersection then turned onto the country road that led to the Circle H.
Listening, Hope smiled. “Hey, Lucille,” she said with a sudden burst of cheerful energy. “We’re almost there...Yes! As soon as I arrive. How’s Max?” Hope listened some more, smiled again, then ended the call.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe she just missed her little boy.
To his knowledge, except for the first day they’d met, this was the first time she had been away from Max in a week. He could see where that would upset her.
After spending most of the day away, he missed the little tyke, too.
A minute later, he turned into the lane and drove up to the Circle H bunkhouse. His brothers had already left for their own ranches, to see to their herds. Inside, his mother, sister and Bess Monroe waited.
Hope said hello, then headed down the hallway. “Just let me peek in on Max...”
“He is such a sweet boy,” Lucille said, her yearning for grandchildren of her own more evident than usual. Hope tiptoed back out. She went over to give Bess Monroe a hug. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Bess beamed. “My pleasure. Besides, I owe you for all those great ideas about how to get the WTWA message out there so we can ramp up the fund-raising.”
“Let me know if I can do anything else.” Hope encouraged, walking Bess out. The two women stood talking for a moment. Hope returned to the house while Bess drove away.
“You helped Bess, too?” Garrett asked. The last time he had seen Bess, she’d still been pretty frustrated with the whole situation. Now, thanks to whatever Hope had done, she seemed optimistic about the organization’s fate.
Hope nodded. “It’s a really good cause. I’m going to help them in any way I can.”
“The foundation will, too,” Lucille said.
Garrett glanced at his mother. “I thought you were closing the foundation, as of tomorrow.”
Looking simultaneously bone weary and amazingly strong of will, Lucille waved off the suggestion. “Hope and Sage both helped me see that was simply a reaction to all that’s occurred. Of course we’re going to keep the foundation going,” she said stubbornly.
All three women exchanged smiles.
Garrett suddenly felt as excluded as if he had wandered into a No Boys Allowed club.
Hope gestured toward the table. “Ready to see what we’ve done?” she asked Lucille.
His mother gave a little smile, even though she was as pale with fatigue as Hope and Sage were.
This was ludicrous, Garrett fumed. It was nearly nine thirty. Everyone there had been going nonstop for days now. Hope and his mother, in particular, both had deep shadows under their eyes and looked like they were about to keel over. Someone had to save them from themselves.
“This can wait until tomorrow,” Garrett said firmly. He pointed to Hope and his mom. “You two both need to go to bed.”
Both women looked at him as if they had no idea who he was. And did not want to know.
“Tell me you did not just say that,” Hope muttered.
As the head of the family and the man who cared deeply about all the women in the room, he stood his ground. “Sleep deprivation causes all sorts of serious health issues.”
Sage was amused. And apparently amenable to reason. His mother and Hope were not.
He tried again. “If you won’t listen to me as your son—” he stared down Lucille, who stood in solidarity with Hope “—or your...” He paused, looking at Hope. She lifted a brow, practically daring him to go on.
No way was he falling into that minefield of trying to put a label on what they had, when what they had was—at Hope’s insistence—completely private. At least for now.
Once the scandal was resolved, he would see about that, too.
He shoved both his hands through his hair, aware he had never felt so aggravated. “Listen to me, ladies—as a physician, then. Left untreated, sleep deprivation can wreck havoc with every system in the body...”
Lucille interrupted, before he could go on in harrowing detail, “So can the stress and tension of important work left undone.”
He blinked at his mother. Who was this woman who had been Go Along to Get Along his whole life?
Garrett turned back to Hope, who seemed to be the only person in the room Lucille was listening to at the moment. “Help me make her see reason,” he gritted out.
To his surprise, Hope shook her head. Just as quietly defiant as his mother, she looked him in the eye. She retorted, “You’re the one out of line here. So maybe it’s you, Garrett, who needs to go bed.”
* * *
PRIVATELY, HOPE KNEW Lucille was exhausted to her bones. She also knew the impossibly generous matriarch would spend another night, lying awake, worrying, if she did not see how much progress had been made remaking the foundation’s image while she had been off making good on the financial promises of the Lockhart Foundation.
So, ignoring Garrett’s fierce disapproval, she led Lucille and Sage over to the long plank table and sat down side by side with them in front of her laptop.
Hope pulled up the history of the ranch. The video montage and voice-over had been set to an orchestral arrangement of one of Lucille’s favorite songs, “The House that Built Me.”
Lucille put her hand over her heart, as the old black-and-white photos of the Circle H and of her childhood appeared on-screen. She caught her breath at the sight of the flags of Texas and the United States. Eyes glistening, she confessed emotionally, “When I got here tonight, and I saw the flags on the porch, the way they used to be when I was growing up, I was so happy I nearly burst into tears.”
Hope smiled. There was no doubt from the photos she’d seen, and the stories she’d heard, that the Hendersons of Laramie County had been a very patriotic family. “I noticed them in the photos.”
Lucille pointed to the bunkhouse, as it had been, years prior. “This photo was taken when my parents and I still lived here, instead of in the ranch house that was built later. Once we moved into that house, Dad hung our flags there.” She shook her head. “It always meant so much to us. Dad being former military and all.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Hope saw Garrett’s look of chagrin, followed swiftly by apology. And on top of that, regret that he’d never noticed what she, as an outsider, had quickly seen.
Hope went through the rest of the video history, showing Lucille and Frank’s humble beginnings, his business success, their rise in Dallas society and the start of the family’s charitable foundation.
“We’re going to use that to show how this all began.”
“It’s perfect, Hope. So much better than what has been in the press.”
They still had work to be done.
“I’d still like to rehearse the Q&A, but if you’re amenable, we can wait until tomorrow morning to do that,” she said.
Lucille nodded. “You’re right. We’re all exhausted.”
Abruptly, Max let out a cry signaling he was waking and needed to be fed. Hope smiled. “If you-all will excuse me...”
She stayed in her guest room to nurse. When she emerged forty-five minutes later to dispose of a soiled diaper, no one was up but Garrett. He followed her outside to the garbage cans. “I owe you an apology.”
Hope stood for a moment, admiring the warm summer breeze and the deep black sky overhead. A full moon shone down upon them. “I misunderstood about the flags.”
She pivoted to face him. “Obviously.”
He continued soberly, “And I probably shouldn’t tell you what to do.”
She arched her brow. “You definitely should not tell me what to do,” she reiterated as warmth spiraled inside her.
His expression gentled. “You worried me.”
Hope sighed and met his eyes. “I worried myself,” she admitted. “I’ve never done that, fallen asleep at the wheel.”
He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The car wasn’t on.”
“Still.” She bit her lip. “If you hadn’t gone to get ice...” The tears she’d been holding back clogged her throat. She drew another deep breath and tilted her face to his. “What would happen to Max if something happens to me?”
The next thing she knew, Garrett’s arms were around her. He pulled her against his solid warmth.
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he told her gruffly.
With him there, beside her, she could believe it.
The problem was, he wasn’t always going to be there to protect her, and/or Max. And when that day came...
More tears flowed down her face.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, holding her close. “I’m here.”
And he stayed with her, until she caught her breath and and turned her face up to his. As grateful for his assistance as she was embarrassed over her own shortcomings.
Tenderness radiated in his gaze. “What else do you need?” he asked her softly.
Hope gulped, still too shaken up and too worn out to censor herself. “For you to hold me,” she whispered, as a new wave of emotion swept over her.
“That, I can do,” Garrett promised, wrapping his strong arms around her.
Holding her close.
Until she finally accepted his wordless urging and got into bed. He climbed in beside her, curling his big body around hers, protecting her as she drifted into a deep, much-needed sleep.
* * *
GARRETT WOKE JUST after six the next morning. He reached for Hope, but to his disappointment found the bed beside him was empty. The bunkhouse was exceptionally quiet. He found Hope sitting on the back porch, still in the clothes she’d had on the night before. She was seated on the glider, Max in one arm, bottle feeding him.
She cast him a beleaguered glance. “Don’t start. My milk supply is low.”
He moved toward them. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” Even though they both knew she needed more sleep than she was getting. Or had been getting for the past week.
“Good.” She turned her attention to the sun rising in the east. A warm breeze ruffled her mussed, golden hair. Like last night, she was near tears. Mostly, he figured, of fatigue. “Because it wouldn’t have been well received.”
And with good reason, he thought. Hope was definitely still highly irascible and incredibly beautiful, despite the dusky shadows beneath her eyes.
Aware she seemed as fragile emotionally now as she had on the ride back from town the previous night, Garrett moved the stack of black-and-white photos and résumés she had spread out on the cushion beside her. He sat down. Max immediately propped a sleeper-clad foot on Garrett’s forearm and stopped drinking from his bottle long enough to make flirty eyes and smile.
Affection flowing through him, Garrett smiled back.
Max resumed sucking down his breakfast, his innocent blue gaze moving from Garrett to Hope and back again.
“So what are you doing?” Garrett indicated the photos printed off her email.
“Looking for my new nanny. The agency is trying to pair me with a replacement for Mary Whiting.”
“She isn’t coming back at all?” This was bad news.
Hope released a shaky breath. “Her mother needs her, so she is taking a part-time position close by.”
Garrett fanned through the applicants, trying to find the bright side. “All of them look nice.”
Hope sighed. “Not to mention impossibly well trained. British nanny academies are the best.”
“Then...?”
Hope’s lip took on a troubled curve. “Something could happen to the next baby nurse—or her family—too. I don’t want Max getting attached to a series of people. And his stranger-danger phase is coming.”
He blinked in surprise.
“All six-to nine-month-old children go through it,” Hope explained seriously. “Just as they usually start experiencing separation anxiety at nine to twelve months.”
She never ceased to amaze him. “Did you memorize that?”
She blinked. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Garrett draped his arm along the back of the glider. “I have no clue.”
She settled into the curve of his body. “Well, they should.”
He cuddled her close, drinking in the vanilla and lavender scent of her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What else is bothering you? And don’t try and fib. I can tell something is really upsetting you.”
Hope studied the golden sun rising slowly in the east then, settling even closer, looked up at him. “What if I do get another nanny and keep working these ridiculously long hours and Max bonds with someone else more than me? Because, let’s be honest, Garrett—” she paused to look deep into his eyes “—life would have been a whole lot easier the last week if I hadn’t had to cart Max everywhere with me. And fit his feedings in between work sessions.”
Garrett studied the anguished expression on her face. Finally they were getting to the root of what had been upsetting her on the ride back from town the previous night. “Yeah, but the week would have been really dull without Max, too. I know for a fact every one of us has enjoyed having the little guy around.” Me, especially.
“Yes, well, that’s because right now Max thinks that everyone is his friend. It was why I was able to leave him with Bess, and Wyatt and Chance yesterday for a little while.”
Garrett snorted. “That also explains why Max took so readily to Chance and Wyatt yesterday.”
Hope shifted toward him once again, her shoulder bumping his. “Speaking of your brothers... Do you know they wouldn’t let me put Max down at all yesterday? They took turns wearing the baby carrier and passing Max back and forth.” She shook her head in astonishment. “I’ve never seen two guys so over the moon.” She gave Garrett a closer look. “Do all the men in your family have baby fever?”
Garrett exhaled in exasperation. “Don’t lump me in with my cowboy brothers.” Especially when it comes to you and Max.
“Please,” she scoffed. “You’ve got the most acute case of baby fever of all!”
Noting it was time for Max to burp, Garrett held out his hands. “That’s just ’cause Max is so darn adorable.”
Smiling proudly, Hope shifted Max to his arms. “He is, isn’t he?”
So was his momma. It didn’t matter what she wore, or didn’t, or what time of day it was. She was absolutely gorgeous, Garrett reflected. He couldn’t stop looking at her.
A comfortable silence stretched between them.
Max burped loudly and grinned, then patted his hand against the side of the bottle as if to say more, please.
Hope handed Garrett the baby bottle. He settled Max in the crook of his arm, aware he could get very used to all this. It was definitely affecting his future plans.
But it was too soon to discuss all that.
That he knew.
“So,” he said, turning the conversation back to something they could discuss. “No more British nannies?”
Hope lifted one hand. “I have to find some sort of child care because I have to work to support us. But I also need an arrangement that has very flexible work hours.” She shook her head miserably. “You’ve seen how crazy it can be when I’m in the midst of trying to manage a crisis.”
Hers was a demanding profession, for sure. He searched for a solution, and finally pointed out, “You get paid well enough to take fewer jobs.”
Her delicate brows knit together. “It doesn’t really work that way. You’re either available at a moment’s notice or you’re not. Clients in the midst of a breaking scandal have very little time. They’re not going to waste it calling someone who has a reputation for possibly not being available due to child-care issues.”
He shrugged. “You could hire someone to assist you at Winslow Strategies.”
“I’d have to train them, bring them up to speed. Again, something I don’t have time to do right now. And care for Max. Plus...” Her lower lip trembled and her voice trailed off in distress. “What happens if I’m at work when Max turns over for the very first time and I miss it? Or takes his first step? Or says Momma instead of meh-meh-meh when he wants to eat?”
Able to understand that—it was something he had ruminated over, too—Garrett tucked Hope into the curve of his arm. “It could still happen, anyway.”
Scowling, Hope shifted so her breast pressed into his chest. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Yours. And Max’s. Always.”
She sighed, slightly calmer.
He loved the way she felt cuddled against him. Tenderness flowed through him. Daring her wrath, he pressed another light kiss to the top of her head. “Sure you don’t want to go back to bed?”
Hope rolled her eyes. “We have a house full of family, in case you’ve forgotten.”
He liked the sound of that. We. Who would have thought? A week ago, all he’d wanted to do was avoid family. Now having everyone nearby felt really good.
He turned to Hope. “I meant you—alone—sweetheart. You could get another hour or two of sleep. The camera crews won’t be here until the afternoon.”
Her slender shoulders squared in fierce defiance. “No. I need to shower and get into work clothes, so as soon as Max goes to sleep, I’ll be doing that.”
Okay, then. “How about I watch him for you while you do all that?”
Gratitude shone in her eyes. “There are times like now when I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”
Resisting the urge to really kiss her, he offered a wicked smile instead. “Not to worry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll collect.”
This time she smiled back, just as mischievously. “I am sure you will.”
* * *
HOPE CLIMBED INTO the shower and let the hot water pour over her. She knew she had been moody lately—that Garrett had attributed it to lack of sleep and hormones, when, in fact, what she was really worried and sad about was the fact that the job with the Lockharts was coming to a close. She and Max would be leaving, and she might never see Garrett again. Or she would see him, from time to time, but it wouldn’t be the same. Hadn’t she promised herself she wasn’t going to do this again? Launch herself into a love affair that was only destined to end?
She had told Garrett—and herself—she could handle it. That this fling was all she wanted. Or needed. Now she was beginning to see it wasn’t true. She did want to get married. She wanted a husband to share the good and bad times with. She wanted Max to have a daddy. And she wanted that daddy to be...Garrett?
Not because he was so good with Max.
Or because he seemed to genuinely like having kids around.
But because Garrett just fit into their lives. And their hearts.
Worse, her body tingled with need for him every time she was near him. It had been thirty hours since they had last made love, yet it felt like forever. Of course that was probably just her hormones. It had to be, Hope told herself, as she toweled off and dressed for work, then went out to the main living area of the bunkhouse. Max was on the counter in his infant seat, watching Garrett and Sage alternately cook breakfast together and jockey for space.
“I keep telling Max that the kitchen is mine,” Sage joked, looking every bit as enthralled with Hope’s son as her brothers and mother. “And Garrett should just go put his feet up somewhere.”
“Hey,” Garrett claimed, with an elbow to his sister’s side, “I’m quite the chef in my own right.”
Hope found herself leaping in to defend him. “He really is.”
Sage scoffed. “You say that now, but you haven’t tasted my food yet.”
Lucille walked out, still looking wrung out and exhausted, despite over twelve hours of sleep. “It’s true.” The older woman flashed a wan smile. “Although both Sage and Garrett are excellent chefs.”
Curious, Hope asked, “Did you teach them?”
Lucille, who—like Hope—had already dressed for the interview to come at noon that day, adjusted her pearls. “Oh, no, I can’t cook at all.”
“Gladys, our cook, taught us when Mom and Dad were out evenings,” Sage explained.
Lucille reached for the coffee pot. Her hand was trembling slightly. “There was a serious lack of family dinners when our children were growing up.”
Garrett had said as much. Hope found that sad. So did the Lockhart matriarch.
Sage and Garrett hugged Lucille simultaneously. Garrett soothed, “Not to worry, Mom. We’re making up for it now.”
Lucille’s smile faltered.
“Lucille?” Hope asked, not sure what the sudden pale shift in the sixty-eight-year-old woman’s color meant. “Are you feeling okay?”
Lucille gasped. “I...don’t know...” She put her hand to her chest, winced, as if in horrendous pain.
“Oh, my God, Mom!” Sage rushed toward her mother.
Lucille staggered slightly. “I think I’m having a heart attack!” she said.
Garrett caught his mother as she fell.
* * *
“EXHAUSTION. DEHYDRATION. HYPERVENTILATION. All of which led to one heck of an episode of tachycardia,” Laramie Community Hospital emergency room doctor Gavin Monroe pronounced, after examining Lucille. Her children gathered round.
“So it wasn’t a heart attack?” Hope blurted out before she could stop herself.
She knew she wasn’t family, but at this moment she felt like it.
“No. It just mimicked one,” Dr. Monroe explained. “Given what Mrs. Lockhart has been through the last few weeks, it’s not surprising she is at her limit.”
“What’s the treatment plan?” Garrett asked, still cradling Max in his arms.
Dr. Monroe said, “Sleep is the most important thing. We’re giving your mother a sedative and admitting her for at least twenty-four...maybe forty-eight hours, depending on how she does. That will help enormously. So will getting her out of the previous stressful environment. Try to see that she follows a healthy diet and has lots of family support. Exercise. We’ll also have her evaluated to make sure she’s not suffering from anxiety or depression. If she is, those can both be treated medically.”
A mixture of guilt and worry filled Hope. This was partly her fault for not being able to take enough of the burden off the shoulders of the Lockhart matriarch. And not listening to Garrett when he tried to convince her and his mother to get more sleep. She couldn’t do anything about that now, but she could take extra strides to protect her from this point forward. “Should Lucille be admitted under a fictitious name?”
Brows lifted, all around.
Hope staved off interruption with a lift of her hand. “I know there are medical privacy laws to protect patients.”
Sternly, Dr. Monroe said, “And we take them very seriously.”
“I’m sure you do,” Hope countered, “but Mrs. Lockhart has been in the news a lot lately, and not in a positive way. When there is an ongoing crisis of this nature, things like a ‘nervous collapse’ or ‘sudden hospitalization’ have a way of leaking to the press.”
Gavin Monroe gave Hope a censoring look. “In Laramie, Texas, we take care of our own. And anyone who happens to be just passing through, as well. But,” he continued kindly, “if you-all like, I’ll speak to the staff. See that Mrs. Lockhart is listed in the hospital visitor register under her maiden name, Henderson.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Garrett said.
Dr. Monroe nodded. “In the meantime, you all need to go home and let Lucille get some much-needed rest.”
Reluctantly, they all returned to the ranch.
They’d barely gotten out of their vehicles when two news vans with satellite hookups attached to the roofs caravanned down the drive.
Sage gasped. “Oh, no. I almost forgot!”
Hope hadn’t.
Sage swung around. “What are we going to tell the reporter about Mom?”
Garrett looked at Hope. “Why don’t we let Hope tell us?” he suggested quietly.