“Spit it out, Peyton.” Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
“When I was doing research about dyslexia, I might have emailed a friend of mine who’s the dean of a school Electryone’s invested in over the years. It’s a private academy with a dedicated education department for kids with learning differences. They’re one of the best in the country, with a diverse student body and faculty. We helped create education software with them a few years back, and she remembered me and said she can get Gino in once you’re back in California.”
When he didn’t respond, she cringed, pressed on. “I know I’m not his mother or responsible for him in any way. You’re his father, and it should be your decision, obviously, but it’s an option, and if you have one that helps you with the custody case...”
“How much?”
“Ah, well.” Bolstered, Peyton set her glass down and shifted to face him. “Here’s where we get into negotiations. The scholarships have already been set for the next school year, but I was thinking—”
“How much?”
She blurted out the cost per year and watched the color drain from his face. “I know! It’s a lot, but—”
“A lot? That’s a couple months’ salary for me.” He shook his head. “Look, I appreciate you checking into this, but I’d have to work night and day to put him in that school, and I would never see him, which is what’s led to him coming out to Montana with me in the first place. I can’t swing it.”
“I can. Could.” She’d already done the math. She made good money. Really good money. All it was doing now was accumulating and earning interest. This was something she could do, something good. More importantly, she wanted to do it.
“You could what?”
“I could swing it. I can pay Gino’s tuition. That way you don’t have to change your hours, and you can spend as much time with him as you need. Win-win.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“No? Oh, come on, Matteo, you can’t say no to this.” She reached across to take his hand but found his ice-cold beneath hers. “It’s the perfect solution.”
“For you, maybe. Not for me. And not for Gino. This isn’t something you can just wave your magic wallet around and fix, Peyton. So again, thank you. But no.” He pulled his hand free, finished his wine and stood up.
“But—” Magic wallet? Where had that come from?
“Money doesn’t solve everything, Peyton. It might make custody fights easier for some—”
“Exactly! It would be leveling the playing field. She wouldn’t be able to use your inability to provide for Gino against you.” The instant she said it, she realized she’d gone too far. “Wait, Matteo, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Didn’t you?” The question was asked as calmly as a windless night, but it made her heart shiver. “I can provide for my son, Peyton. Maybe not as financially fancy as Sylvia and her new husband can, but I can certainly give him the love and attention he’s been missing.”
“You’re being naive if you think that’ll be enough to win in court,” Peyton tried again. “That’s all I was trying to say.” She just wanted him to have every weapon available at his disposal in his fight to keep his son.
“Okay, so let’s end this conversation now, before either of us says something we’ll regret.”
She already regretted it. She continued to regret what she’d let slip even as she cleaned up and popped out the sofa bed for Matteo to deposit a sleeping Gino into.
“Matteo, I’m sorry,” she whispered when he headed to his room and they’d turned out the lights. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I know you didn’t.” In the pale moonlight streaming through the front windows, she saw him look back at her. “Good night, Peyton.”
* * *
“YOU WON AGAIN!” Gino whined the next afternoon as he trudged over to retrieve the horseshoes from around the pole. “It’s not fair. I’m too little.”
“We’ll get those muscles of yours built up soon.” Peyton waved him back, glancing quickly over at the fence line where Matteo stood watching the horses. He wasn’t ignoring her. Not exactly. But he was keeping his distance. “Want to play another round?”
Gino didn’t look thrilled at the idea. “Is there something else we can try? Like roping?”
“Roping, yeah, sure.” Peyton looked toward the activity shack, where they kept the activity supplies. “Let’s see what we can find for that.”
Matteo shifted, his gaze following them as she and Gino pulled open the door and began searching through the ropes, saddles, boxes of beanbags and other toys and games.
“Found it!” Gino came up from a bottom shelf, two long ropes in his hands. “I don’t know, though.” He scrunched his nose. “Maybe I’m too little for this, too?”
“Let’s try outside.” She turned toward the door only to bump straight into Matteo. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi.” He peered around her toward his son. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to learn to rope!” Gino announced and stalked past them. “Outside, though. Where we have room.”
Peyton offered Matteo a smile. “I don’t suppose you know how to rope anything?”
“I used to.” He shrugged. “Guess I can find out if I remember.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“What?” He caught her arm when she tried to pass. “Peyton...”
“You should have some time with your son, Matteo. This is something you can teach him. Something he’ll remember. I’ll just get in the way.” It hurt to say it, more than she expected, but she knew it was the truth. “I’ll see you both back in the cabin.”
She hurried out, waving to Gino as she passed.
“Where’s Peyton going, Dad?” Gino asked his father.
“Nowhere,” Matteo said. Before Peyton could turn around, she felt something drop over her head, cinch around her waist and stop her. She faltered, nearly pitching forward as she was tugged back. “Got her.”
Gino’s laughter danced against her ears as Peyton righted herself. “What on earth?” She tugged at the rope around her waist, then froze when she saw Matteo striding toward her, wrapping the rope up as he drew her in.
“We aren’t letting you get away that easily.” His voice was low, determined, and sent a chill racing down her spine that had her surrendering to her captor. “I guess I haven’t lost it.”
“No,” Peyton chuckled. “You definitely haven’t.” She pulled the rope off and over her head, then dropped it over Gino when he raced over. Beaming up at her, the little boy threw his arms around her waist and squeezed. “All right,” she sighed, unable to ignore father and son. “Let the lassoing lessons begin.”
* * *
“YOU WERE RIGHT.”
Considering the past two days Matteo and Peyton had conversed only about ranch happenings, Gino, the injured horse that was rapidly on the mend, or the weather, he needed clarification. “About what exactly?”
He scanned the schedule of events and didn’t see anything that would interest Gino, who had begun every morning with an alphabet exercise. Peyton had found a bunch of them on the internet. He’d foregone Gino’s workbooks; they only stressed his son out. He’d rather Gino remain excited and positive about the things he was learning instead of what he might be getting wrong.
“About these.” Peyton pointed at her severely abused running shoes. “I need boots. Before these disintegrate.”
“All right.”
“I thought maybe we could head into town today? Stop at the library? I’ve heard there’s a bakery, too.”
Matteo’s eyebrow arched. “You’re hungry?”
“No. They serve coffee as well.” She turned hopeful eyes on him. “Gino? You want to go into town with us?”
“Can’t.” Gino scribbled letters on his paper. “Rosie doesn’t have s
chool today, and she’s going to help Katie around the ranch. I want to help, too.”
“Oh.” Peyton looked suddenly uneasy at her suggestion. “All right, then. I guess I can go on my own.”
“No,” Matteo said. “You won’t. Or have you forgotten why we came here in the first place?”
“We’ve been in Falcon Creek a week,” Peyton said under her breath. “Nothing’s happened. No one’s shown up looking for me.”
“That we know of,” Matteo explained. “Going into town seems like a good way to verify that. Come on, G. We’ll walk you over. I want to check on the horse, anyway.”
“Can’t we give her a name already, Dad?” Gino whined. “It’s been forever, and we keep calling her the horse.”
“He’s not wrong,” Peyton piled on. “Although, it does seem to be a good way to make sure you don’t get emotionally attached to her. Anymore than you already are.”
“Much the way someone might hire a matchmaker to find them a husband?” Matteo shot back. “Taking emotions out of it?”
Now she smirked. “Not everything has to be messy and complicated. And I learned my lesson there, didn’t I?”
“Remains to be seen.”
Gino had come over and was frowning at her, then his dad. “Are you two fighting?”
“No,” Peyton said and shot a warning look at Matteo. “No, little man, we’re just working some things out. Go get your shoes on.”
“All right.” Gino didn’t look convinced that everything was all right. He stopped at the doorway to his father’s bedroom, looked back at them. “I don’t like fighting. Makes my stomach hurt. And it hasn’t hurt once since I’ve been here.”
“Peyton’s right, G.” Matteo tried not to feel guilty at the accusing glance he got from his son. “We’re just being stu—”
Peyton cleared her throat.
“We’re just being silly,” he corrected through gritted teeth. “Tell your stomach not to hurt. Everything will be fine.”
“‘Kay.” Doubt marred his little forehead before he retrieved his shoes.
A few minutes later, the trio was heading over to the guest lodge. A few minutes after that, Matteo and Peyton were off to town, the uneasy silence continuing to stretch. He didn’t like the tension between them. Not this tension, anyway. He missed the Peyton he’d come to know over the past week—the Peyton he considered a friend.
The idea that money had wiggled and wedged its way between them sat like a festering splinter in his heart. “Okay, enough.”
“Huh?” Peyton’s head shot up and her eyes went wide. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly.” He pulled the car over, shoved it into Park and turned in his seat. “We’re both being ridiculous. You made an offer, and I declined. Maybe I should have been better at how to say no.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I should have been better at presenting my case. One that wasn’t quite so...saviorlike.”
“That wasn’t what...” He trailed off at her skeptical look. “I don’t think that’s what bothered me.” Although there was something ego-stomping about a successful woman throwing her money around as a solution to his problems. He’d lived like that with Sylvia for years, and he’d grown to resent her for it. He didn’t want to resent Peyton. He liked her. A lot. More than a lot.
He could feel himself flinching even as his emotions circled and tried to grab hold. But he wasn’t going to let them. Not now. Not ever. Falling for Peyton Harrison was the worst thing he could do for himself and his son. And yet...sitting here, in this truck, beneath the endless Montana sky, staring at the open land, he could feel it happening. That slow, subtle slide into acceptance and affection and...
“We can’t pretend the discussion didn’t happen.”
“Discussion. Argument. Tomato—”
“Tomahto,” he ended for her with a grin he found reflected on her face. “I will try to be more open to your financial and educational suggestions for Gino in the future.”
She seemed stunned, but then her face cleared, and she nodded. “And I’ll try not to be as much of a sledgehammer with my suggestions. Except...can I say one more thing about the school?”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Go ahead.”
“Will you at least talk to my friend before you walk away from the offer? If the school can work something out with you, I don’t know what, but it might be worth finding out.”
He wondered, not for the first time, what his heart was thinking by threatening to beat only for this woman. “You just will not let this go, will you?”
“No. Because it’s the perfect place for Gino. And I’m sorry, but I kinda love the kid. I know.” She held up her hand. “He’s not mine, and I’m trying really hard not to overstep, but you have to admit, you’re a little out of your element when it comes to hands-on 24/7 parenting, and I think that’s part of what your ex is counting on.”
“I’m a fast learner.” But she had a point. He had no doubt Sylvia had sent Gino to him to catch him off guard and make him appear the less successful parent. “Though, maybe I could use some help. Let’s start with the library and go from there, okay?”
“But—”
“I’m not saying no to meeting with your contact from the school,” he explained. “I will think about it. Okay?”
She nodded, the smile he’d missed the past few days reappearing. “Just one more thing.”
“What?” This woman was going to be the death of him.
“This.”
She moved so fast, so smooth, he didn’t have time to register she’d grabbed hold of him and was pressing her mouth against his. Like a lightning strike on the parched prairie, instant fire ignited. She didn’t take her time, didn’t seem to be testing the waters, but she took what she needed from him and kissed him into oblivion.
When she pulled back just enough to press her forehead against his, his mouth tingled from where her lips had been moments before. “Needed to get that out of my system,” she whispered. “It’s just been—”
“Building,” he murmured. “Yeah. I get that.” It was already building again. He needed to get this truck moving again before they both took things too far. Or enjoyed it far too much. “Boots. You need to get boots.”
“Yep.” She slid back over into her seat and settled in as if she hadn’t just been practically in his lap. “Move ’em out, cowboy. I’ve got shopping to do.”
* * *
THIS IS WHAT happened when she didn’t focus on work: she kissed her bodyguard. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d goaded him, then kissed him. She’d goaded him until he’d pretty much given in, and then she’d kissed him. All part of her plan.
Not.
What alternate personality had taken over in that truck that had her kissing Matteo Rossi as if it were her last act on earth? Probably the same personality that had her realizing this morning that yes, she did need boots, and she was going to get some.
“How do those feel?” Alice Gardner, one of the owners of Brewster Ranch Supply, stood back to admire the simple but elegant embroidered black leather boots. “They look pretty good.”
Peyton walked around, rose up on her toes, rocked back on her heels. “They feel great, actually.” The leather was sturdy but also soft and yielding. No severe breaking-in time for these puppies, that was for sure. “Yes, I think these are it.” She’d only tried on five other styles, but these felt like butter the second she slid into them. “Consider me a convert. Is it okay if I wear them right now?”
“Absolutely. Keep on shopping. I’ll ring you up when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Alice.” Peyton found herself doing a little boot-scootin’-boogie on her way down the aisle where she found Matteo perusing the kids’ boots. “Did you find a pair for Gino?”
“What do you think of these?” They were leather with w
hat looked like flames worked into the leather. “They’re different. He’ll probably outgrow them in a month.”
“He’ll love them.”
“How’d you do?”
“Excellent. What do you think?” She stepped back and kicked out a foot.
“I think I need to use my camera to take photographic evidence. Maybe use as blackmail material once you’re back in the office.”
She snort-laughed. “Like anyone would believe it was me.” The office. Her happiness dipped. Funny how easily she’d acclimated to not focusing on work. Almost an entire week had passed since she’d been plugged into her computer or cell phone for any significant time, and she didn’t miss it. Not one bit.
“Afternoon.” Alice’s husband, Frank, called out as the door opened and jingled a chime. “Welcome to Brewster’s. Anything I can help you find?”
Peyton didn’t hear the answer, just a muffled male voice echoing in her ears as she did another tour around the store. This was definitely one-stop shopping, despite the plethora of smaller shops and stores along the main street. Serving ranchers, tourists and residents alike, Brewster’s was a treasure trove of items. She had scribbled down a list of potential Christmas gifts she could get for friends and family. Falcon Creek mementos seemed particularly apropos for her sisters, but for now she focused on her work friends and loaded up on homemade jams, jellies, flavored coffees and candy, enough to make up a number of gift baskets once she was back home.
“I’ll probably need another suitcase to get all this home,” she joked to Matteo when she dropped another load of items on the counter.
“I can package it up and ship it for you,” Alice offered. “No need for you to worry about how to transport it back to California.”
“Would you really?” Peyton sagged in relief. “That would be amazing. If that’s the case...” She grinned at Matteo, who was shaking his head in mock disbelief. “One more tour around the store. Just a little while longer.”
“We aren’t punching a clock.”
Montana Dreams Page 17