Ethan

by Chris Keniston

"You want me to send her packing? I can see a double booking error creeping up."

  "No—"

  "If you're worried about me losing business, don't."

  "Thanks, but in this case I'd rather go with keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Don't do anything differently than you normally would. But watch what you say."

  "No mentioning insanity or the pesky sixth toe that runs in the family," she deadpanned. "Got it."

  "Ha ha," he quipped, but he did love that Meg could say the right thing to make him bring it down a notch. "And thanks. I'll call Adam. Warn him."

  "Is she that close?" Her tone grew serious again.

  "Should be pulling up any second."

  "Okay. Go circle the wagons and I'll see what I can find out on my end."

  "You're the best."

  "And I remind your brother of that every night." The humor in her voice was back.

  "I bet you do." Ethan didn't like what it meant having Fancy's sister show up, but he loved that his sister-in-law had his back. And she certainly understood what it meant to be a Farraday. Circling the wagons indeed.

  Yanking the door open he swung inside. Getting around on crutches was a bloody nuisance. Right about now when he wanted to move fast they upgraded to a damn nightmare. Making his way forward he moved as quickly as he could and slid into his side of the booth with more agility than he had previously.

  "What's up?" DJ asked immediately.

  Ethan didn't doubt that his concern showed on his face. "That was Francine's sister."

  "What?" DJ and his aunt echoed.

  "She'll be waiting for us at Meg's."

  DJ leaned forward. "When?"

  "I told her she could have a few minutes to settle in."

  His aunt looked out the window and back at him. "We should call Catherine."

  DJ nodded and Ethan realized his mistake. The Marine in him had no fear of charging in. But this was a different kind of battle. And Meg wasn't the only new Farraday woman who had his back. He just hoped to hell circling the wagons would be enough.

  ***

  The older lady, Aunt Eileen, had been right. The main drag led to a pretty town square and then a few more blocks to the address of the bed and breakfast. Colorfully painted, the old Victorian was as charming and pristine on the outside as the website had depicted. Glancing up the street at the considerably smaller homes, Allison suspected, once upon a time, the entire block had been its backyard.

  From an early age Allison had learned the art of packing light. Leaving most of her treasured belongings to move in with her aunt Millicent had been the beginning. Off to college, then med school, and then settling into an already furnished home, she'd never needed much. The single carryon she pulled from the trunk along with her medical bag was evidence enough.

  "Welcome," a tall redhead called from the front porch. "Need some help with your bags?"

  "No, thanks." She slammed the hatchback door shut. "This is it." Dragging the roller bag behind her, Allison followed the pavestone path to the house. She'd expected a matronly older woman with gray hair and sensible shoes. This lady not only did not qualify for anything close to matronly, she looked like she'd stepped out of the designer section of Neiman's.

  The smiling woman held the screen door open. "My name's Meg. I'll show you to your room and then you can come on down for some tea and homemade crumb cake."

  "You bake?" Allison followed her up the mahogany stairs.

  Meg laughed. "Not even close. But I can boil water in an emergency."

  Allison was glad to laugh back. Her stomach had been tangled in nervous tension for weeks. The knots had only tightened like wet rope upon landing on Texas soil. She was still on edge, but better. Her entire world was about to turn completely upside down if she accomplished what she'd planned. "I can relate." Fending for herself in the kitchen wasn't hard, but she'd never be one of those people who enjoyed mincing fresh herbs and creating mouthwatering meals. She'd survived med school on canned pasta and frozen dinners. Fabulous training for living in the jungle and eating things of unknown origins.

  "You won't have to worry though." Meg looked over her shoulder, still smiling. "I'm not allowed to do baked goods."

  "I wasn't even slightly concerned." Another knot loosened in her stomach. She liked her hostess. "Put burnt toast in front of me and I'll think it's wonderful."

  Meg turned the corner at the top of the stairs. "Not fussy?"

  "Blackened gluten seems a step up from some of the things I've had to eat lately."

  "Oh really?" Meg pushed open a door and stepped aside. "I sense an interesting story there."

  "Not really." She scanned the room quickly and almost sighed. For the first time since leaving her little cottage, she felt completely at ease. "Oh, wow."

  "Nice, isn't it?" Pride shone in Meg's eyes.

  "I'll say." Pale yellow walls, not quite cream, not quite sunshine, created a bright contrast to the dark wooden floors. Setting her bag down on the open luggage rack, Allison spun about. Her gaze fell on a six drawer pine dresser. Up close she ran her hand across the top and examined the iron pull. "This is an original piece. Edwardian, right?"

  The redhead beamed and nodded. "England, circa 1910."

  "Really nice." She looked around the room, her aunt would be impressed. "Are all these pieces original?"

  Red hair slid across Meg's shoulder as her head bobbed again. "Most of them. Yes. Some Victorian, some Edwardian. Except the bed. That's totally twenty-first century memory foam."

  "Sounds heavenly." Allison patted the country quilt.

  Meg led the way to the private bath. "The house runs on a tankless system so hot water is never a problem, even when we're full up."

  "You had me with the bed, but with endless hot water I may never leave." The bathroom boasted white tiles from top to bottom. One side showcased a massive claw foot soaker tub and a separate walk in shower. "I bet I could sleep quite comfortably in that tub."

  Meg laughed. "Where exactly have you been sleeping that a porcelain tub looks so appealing?"

  Allison looked at her pristinely dressed hostess and wondered how much information would be too much. "The Amazon."

  Blue eyes widened and blinked. "I gather you're not talking about the online store."

  Chuckling, Allison shook her head. She really did like this lady. "Nope. The real thing."

  "If you don't mind my asking, what in heaven's name were you doing there?"

  "I expected a little of this and a little of that but I seemed to spend a great deal of time delivering babies and doing c-sections."

  "You're a doctor?" Meg paled and her momentarily slack jawed mouth snapped shut.

  Allison laughed. "Don't look so surprised. Women's lib was forty years ago."

  "No. I'm sorry, it's not that, it's just—"

  "Meg?" A deep voice called from downstairs. Allison had only heard it a few times, but the way the hairs on her arms stood upright, she knew who the voice belonged to.

  "Don't come up. I'll be right down." Meg turned halfway around to face Allison. "As soon as you're settled in come down for the crumb cake and tea I promised. Unless you prefer coffee, I can do that too."

  A familiar discomfort settled in her stomach. No one could get through what she had and do what she did without nerves of steel. But here and now, in this situation, with this man who the only thing she knew about was that he was her niece's father, Allison felt as skittish as a Victorian virgin bride. Oh Fancy, what have you done?

  Chapter Eight

  Halfway to the kitchen, Ethan turned to the living room and parked himself on the large leather sofa. It afforded him the ability to elevate his leg for at least a short while. He needed to be more diligent. If he wanted to get back in the cockpit he needed to get well. Fast.

  Meg hopped off the last step and came to a stop in the parlor beside him. "Hi."

  "I see she didn't change her mind and head back to where she came from." He pointed out the window to the car
in the driveway.

  "'Fraid not." Meg leaned on the sofa arm. "About that—"

  "By that you mean her?"

  Meg nodded. "With the exception of scumbag ex-fiancés I tend to have really good instincts."

  "Okay." He certainly couldn't argue with her since she'd married his brother and her best friend married another brother.

  "I know I haven't spent more than a few minutes with Allison."

  A second ago she was that, now she's Allison.

  "But, well," Meg shrugged, "she seems nice."

  "And your point?"

  "I don't know." Meg hefted her shoulder again. "I guess I was expecting something else."

  Ethan couldn't argue with her there. From the few words Fancy had shared about her sister, he'd been prepared for a more grounded member of the family, but at least a little bit more like Fancy.

  "I think," Meg continued, "under different circumstances, we could be friends."

  "Hmm," he grunted. Mixed emotions still tumbled about inside his head and heart. Fancy was, after all, Brittany's mother. But she'd abandoned her. And as Fancy's sister, Allison was family. And from what little he'd heard from Fancy, her dysfunctional relatives were not the kind of family he wanted Brittany influenced by. He might not be ready for father of the year, but he was pretty confident with the help of his family he'd be able to bring up a fairly well adjusted little girl. Maybe. Which brought him back to Fancy's family and concerns that input from the dysfunctional Monroes might shoot what little shot he had at getting things right straight down the tubes. "Friends," he mumbled. No. Definitely not on the agenda.

  "It was just… I don't know." Meg frowned at him and then looked around. "Where's Aunt Eileen?"

  "She took the truck back to the ranch."

  "Why'd she do that?"

  "Catherine suggested it would not be in our best interest to overwhelm Allison with our family. Yet."

  "Okay." Meg seemed to take a moment to kick that idea around. "How did you get here?"

  "DJ dropped me off."

  "Is he taking you home or are you planning to keep your enemy even closer still and spend the night here?" A slight smile teased at the corner of her mouth, only this time he didn't find any humor in the innuendo.

  That sort of behavior was what had gotten him into this mess. Not that he considered Brittany a mess, just that being a single dad hadn't been on his radar. Truthfully, being a husband and father were nowhere in his plan for putting in his twenty. Men in his kind of work made lousy husbands. "I'll hitch a ride home with Catherine."

  "Catherine?" Meg's face scrunched tight in confusion. "I didn't know she was in town today."

  "She's on her way. I'm supposed to not talk legal until my lawyer gets here."

  "Catherine's your lawyer now?" Meg's surprise showed she was having a hard time keeping up.

  He shrugged. "She will be tonight."

  "Well," Meg slapped her hands on her thighs and pushed to her feet, "I'd better put on the water for tea and hope you guys drink and chew really slow, or avoiding talking about the baby elephant in the room for over an hour until Catherine arrives will be tough." She leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. "It's going to be fine. I know it is."

  Ethan hoped to high heaven his sister-in-law was right. Normally he could trust his gut, but on everything concerning Brittany and Fancy he felt like a compass without a magnet. No clue where he was going or what to do next.

  "Hello again." Allison appeared in the open archway, her gaze scanning the room.

  "Meg's gone to get the tea." Habit had him pushing to his feet despite the discomfort.

  "Please don't." Allison waved him down. The way she hovered nearby as he took his seat again, anyone walking by would think they were friends.

  When he settled onto the sofa, she walked to a nearby chair and instead of taking a seat, surprised him by turning back around. "You really should have that leg elevated above your heart."

  "I know. It's just not convenient to lay back at the moment."

  "No." She approached him with a frilly cushion in her hand. "I suppose not." Before he could process her intentions, her hand grasped his heel, lifted his leg, and slid the pillow beneath just below his knee. "Your knees should be slightly bent. Yours were locked. That puts a great deal of unnecessary stress on the joints."

  "Thank you." He knew that, he just forgot to pay attention.

  She eased into the smaller library chair in front of him. "You're welcome." Her gaze went over his leg and then lifted to meet his. "What did you do?"

  "The easy answer is I broke it."

  Apparently she had a sense of humor because a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "And how did you break it?"

  There wasn't an easy answer to that one. "Hard landing."

  Her head tilted in thought. "On what?"

  "The mountainside."

  This time her eyes flew open wide. "You crashed."

  Obviously she knew more about him and his career than he did about hers. "Controlled hard landing."

  "Does that make you feel better?"

  "Excuse me?"

  She shrugged. "Not using the word crash."

  No pilot liked the word crash. People rarely survive crashes. He and the men in his charge had lived to tell about the hard landing. "I didn't realize you were a psychiatrist."

  "I'm not." Her lips curved into a smile. "Just checking."

  Her easy tone almost had him smiling too. He was going to have to be careful around her. Maybe his defenses were down because of the injury, or the shift in his life because of Brittany, or maybe it was just a way with this woman. Whatever, he needed to stay sharp. "You are a doctor, though?"

  Dark hair brushed the sides of her cheek as her head bobbed. "Yes. I'm a surgeon."

  Ethan wasn't sure why that surprised him. No matter what her specialty, it took smarts, stamina and determination to become any kind of doctor, and yet somewhere he'd felt that surgeons, good ones, required an additional gift, or talent maybe. Like a piano player with long fingers. Instantly his gaze dropped to her hands. Much like he would expect from a concert pianist. Long, slender, trimmed nails, no polish, only signs of a few healing cuts jumped at him as out of place. "Had a disagreement with a scalpel lately?"

  Her fingers lifted and she glanced down at her hands before letting them fall back onto her lap. "A thorny bush."

  "Like to garden?"

  "Hardly. I ran after a frightened child and stumbled into an aggressive shrub. Pretty flowers. Nasty thorns."

  "Here we go." Meg came into the room carrying a large silver tray and set it on the table between him and Allison and set a delicate looking cup and saucer in front of her before facing him. "This," she picked up a large white mug with the A&M logo, "is for you. It's coffee."

  Pleased his sister-in-law hadn't tried to make him juggle one of those prissy tea cups, he smiled, reached for the sugar and spotted the cake balls. "Oh, man. Are those—"

  "Yep," Meg smiled. "Toni dropped them off about an hour ago. I'm expecting more company and they're always a big hit at tea time."

  He snatched one up covered in dark chocolate and waved it at Allison. "You're gonna love these."

  Her gaze slid from him to the dessert dish of crumb cake and cake balls and back. "Recommend one in particular?"

  About to pop one in his mouth, he paused, cake frozen at his lips, and shook his head. "Nope. They're all great."

  She smiled hesitantly, nodded, and reached for the one with an orange tint to it.

  Keeping an eye on her, his cheeks tugged at the corners of his lips as her eyes nearly rolled back in her head before she let out the tiniest bit of a moan. The cake he'd just swallowed caught in his throat and he literally shook his head to rattle the image free from his memory of her groaning with delight.

  "Oh my. These are good." She smacked her lips, savoring the taste. "I can't quite—"

  "Those are the mimosas." Meg grabbed one with white icing. "Champagne cake balls with Grand Marnier ici
ng. You may want to take it easy."

  "Oh," she took another bite. "Do I really have to?"

  She and Meg both chuckled and Ethan saw what Meg meant. Another place and time and they probably would have been friends. What scared him more though, was another place and time and he too would have liked to be friends. Good friends.

  ***

  Taking the third, and she swore last, cake ball, Allison savored every morsel. "These are insanely delicious. I mean, I've had cake balls before, but wow."

  "I know. I keep telling Toni she needs to open up a professional bakery and ship these puppies out."

  "Really," Allison agreed, resisting the urge to try just one more. "I can see them in every mall across America right next to the cookie and pretzel shops."

  "The Texas Alcohol Beverage Commission may have something to say about that."

  Allison looked to Meg. "Surely all the liquor has to be baked out of it."

  "That's how it's supposed to work. Usually."

  Somewhere in that last word, Allison felt sure there was a story. "Well." She took a fortifying sip of tea and set the cup down. She'd come here for a reason and she might as well start now, but where? "No sense in beating around the bush anymore. I'd like to see my niece."

  Lips tightened, all Ethan did was nod.

  She waited another beat or two and when she realized he wasn't going to say anything, she pushed on. "How far is the ranch from here?"

  His expression was unreadable. She had a feeling she was looking at Ethan the military man. "About an hour's drive."

  No surprise there. Things were awfully spread out in this part of the country. She'd figured that out pretty quickly on the drive from the airport. "Your aunt invited me to dinner."

  "She didn't know who you were at the time."

  Her spine stiffened. A familiar ache took root in the pit of her stomach. "Are you saying I'm not welcome…on the ranch."

  "No. I'm just not sure dinner is the answer. Especially not tonight if that's what you were thinking."

  "Time is a precious commodity. I've already missed the first months of my niece's life. I've driven nearly an hour to meet a colleague in the city for dinner, driving an hour to see Francine's baby doesn't seem out of line."