by Julie Benson
“That’s not my top priority.”
“What’s the problem?” his mom asked as she joined them, hands on her hips, her gaze darting between him and Maggie. “We can hear you two picking at each other all the way in the other room. Griffin, I’ve never heard you speak like that to a woman. I raised you better than that.”
Great. Just what Griffin needed—dealing with his mom and Maggie. He was doomed.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m sorry I got upset, Maggie. Are we done here?”
For a minute, Griffin thought she might argue, but then she nodded. “I’m sorry, Mrs. McAlister, that Griffin’s and my discussion got a little heated.”
“Good, because I’m done entertaining those two. I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to about the entertainment industry. Then there’s the lawyer. I swear she’s told me about every case she’s tried. No wonder there are so many lawyer jokes.” His mother’s knowing gaze drilled into him, but he pretended not to notice. “This should be an interesting visit, because they’re clueless about ranch life.”
Griffin hid his smile behind a cough. That was exactly what he was counting on.
* * *
THE DAY AFTER ARRIVING home, Griffin opened the door to find finalist number one, two cameramen and Maggie on the porch. He dismissed his immaculately groomed date with a quick glance. She looked more ready for a day sitting around a cozy fire drinking hot toddies than touring a working ranch. His gaze locked on Maggie. She’d cut her hair. When had she found time to do that? Instead of tugging it back into a blasted ponytail, she’d left it loose, brushing her shoulders. Bangs softened her features and set off her spring-green eyes. “I like your hair.”
Stacy smoothed a hand over her perfectly straight blonde hair and struck a pose. “Thanks. I highlighted it before we left Vegas.”
He turned briefly to his date. Her hair didn’t look any different to him. “I meant Maggie.”
Stacy glanced over her shoulder at her. “You did change your hair.” She leaned closer. “It’s definitely an improvement. Maybe next time you can get a style that isn’t from the nineties.”
The last part was said under her breath, but loudly enough for Griffin to hear. He glanced at Maggie. The sparkle faded from her eyes, the smile from her face.
He longed to take her aside and tell her she looked amazing, to reassure her she had nothing to fear from this shallow, self-centered woman. He yearned to pull Maggie into his arms and kiss her until she forgot everything but him.
“If we’ve finished discussing my hair, let’s start shooting,” she instructed, her tone acidic.
As the camera lights came on, Maggie’s comment reminded him of his own goal—to give his big-city finalists a heaping helping of ranch life. He noticed his date’s high-heeled boots. To tour a ranch? They wouldn’t look so stylish covered in hay, dust and horse manure. He couldn’t have planned this better.
Maggie, on the other hand, had dressed in sensible jeans, a short wool coat and hiking boots. The tailored coat actually showed off her curvy figure. She appeared comfortable, relaxed almost. Odd, considering her type A personality.
What about Maggie gets to me in a way no one ever has?
Focus. Today was crucial to the success of his plan. “I thought we’d start our tour with the barn.”
With a pout on her face, his date stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. “Do we have to tour the ranch? I’d rather look at the horses and then go into town. The restaurant at the Stanley Hotel sounds amazing. We could have lunch there and you could tell me all about the ranch.”
Ignoring her comments, Griffin said, “Twin Creeks has been in my family for generations. It’s a big part of who I am. It’s my home.”
Stacy flashed him a placating smile meant for the cameras. She probably cared as much for him as a ham sandwich. “Then I can’t wait to see everything.”
Within five minutes of entering the barn, she started sneezing.
“Are you allergic to hay?” Griffin asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been around it before.”
Priceless. The longer he kept her here, and the more hay he stirred up, the better. “I need to check on my pregnant mare.”
He and Stacy strolled through the barn toward Sugar’s stall, Maggie and the cameramen trailing after them. Along the way Griffin grabbed a wheelbarrow.
After situating the wheelbarrow to the left of the stall, he opened the door and stepped inside. A minute later, he led the mare into one across the aisle.
He smiled at his date. Welcome to Introductory Stall Mucking Out.
* * *
THE FACT THAT GRIFFIN noticed her haircut floored Maggie. When he’d complimented her, she’d basked in the glow for all of ten seconds. Then Stacy had spoiled everything.
Why couldn’t she let me have this one small moment?
Now, as his date walked through the barn, her high heels clicking on the cement floor and her sneezes echoing in the cavernous space, Maggie smiled, knowing she’d get the last laugh today. Given the robust sneezes, she figured in ten minutes the woman’s eyes would be as red as a Stop sign.
When Griffin asked his date to join him in the stall, Stacy’s shocked expression was worth the price of admission. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes held a look of raw terror. Maggie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. This might be fun, and she who laughed last laughed the loudest.
“I’m fine watching from here,” Stacy responded.
“Horses are a big part of my life. Whoever I marry will have to share that with me.”
Maggie smiled as Griffin, the master manipulator, flashed his date his dreamy do-this-for-me look. Stacy couldn’t refuse without appearing like a prima donna when the episode aired.
“But there isn’t a horse in there.”
Maggie fanned her face. Was the barn hot, or was it just her? When sweat trickled between her breasts, she tugged off her coat and tossed it on a nearby table, on top of some bridles.
“There’s a lot more to having horses than riding them,” Griffin said.
What had this woman thought life would be like on a working ranch? Even Maggie knew being part of a small business like the Twin Creeks meant everyone pitched in wherever they could. Ranch women didn’t live like they did on the old TV show Dallas.
“I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you.”
Right. This woman would do almost anything to get an additional fifteen minutes of fame. As Stacy inched inside the stall, nearly attaching herself to the wall, Maggie instructed one cameraman to get tight shots of her terror-stricken face.
“You need to come farther in than that,” Griffin coaxed. “I can’t get the wheelbarrow in otherwise.”
He stepped out and retrieved it, squeaks echoing through the barn as he maneuvered it into the stall. Then he returned for the shovels. He handed one to his date, who looked as if she thought the thing would leave her permanently scarred, and then used his to scoop up a pile of hay and manure.
Maggie struggled to control her roiling stomach. The earthy smells hadn’t bothered her on her last trip to Colorado. What a difference pregnancy made.
“I’ll be back. Take care of things,” she whispered to her assistant director, Samantha, before racing out of the barn. Once outside, she focused on her breathing instead of her churning stomach. Then the wind changed, bringing a strong whiff of manure from the corral.
She kept her breakfast down until she’d darted behind the barn, out of sight and, hopefully, earshot of everyone. Kneeling on the ground without a coat, she started shaking. Great, the shakes and throwing up. Could this get any worse?
“Maggie dear, what’s wrong?”
The situation just got worse. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Griffin’s mother.
“My breakfast didn’t agree with me.”
Nannette placed her wrist against Maggie’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. It could be altitude sickness. Have you been drinking enough water
?”
The nausea having passed, Maggie stood. “I’m fine now. I should get back to the barn.”
She took two steps, wobbled, and Nannette steadied her. “You aren’t ready to go back to work. Come in the kitchen with me for a cup of tea.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
“I always have tea after my walk. It’s as easy to make two cups as one.”
Maggie couldn’t risk getting close to Griffin’s family. She held too many secrets. Not only that, but spending time with them would make leaving harder. Yet didn’t she owe it to her baby to learn as much as she could about Griffin’s family? One day her child would ask questions, and shouldn’t she have some answers?
“I’d love to join you.”
Once in the McAlister kitchen, Nannette refused her offer to help, and told her to sit and rest.
Maggie hadn’t had a chance to examine it in detail the other day, but did so now. The room fit the rest of the house—warm, rustic and homey. The bay windows beyond the big harvest table revealed a breathtaking view of the mountains, strong and stable like the McAlister family.
“You and Griffin seem close.”
Oh, dear. This wasn’t where Maggie wanted the conversation going. “We’ve become friends.” The lie almost stuck in her throat.
“From what I saw of you two here in the kitchen the other day, I’m thinking it’s more than that. Griffin’s never shown that much emotion with a woman before.”
“He does get angry with me.”
“It’s because you call a spade a spade with him. Most women don’t, you know.”
“With his looks, I’m not surprised.”
“Women see his pretty face and will do anything to keep him. They tell him what he wants to hear, which is the last thing that man needs.” When the teakettle screeched, Nannette poured water into the brown ceramic teapot, set the timer and joined Maggie at the table.
“I have to admit, I do enjoy matching wits with him,” she admitted.
“He looks at you differently than he does those dolled-up finalists. It’s the same way Rory looked at Elizabeth when he brought her here.”
Needing glasses or being delusional must run in the McAlister family.
Chapter Thirteen
“You’ve got the wrong impression. There’s nothing between me and Griffin.”
Come September, what’s between us will be waking me in the night for two o’clock feedings.
“Maggie, I’m buying that like I would a three-legged horse.”
What could she say? If she kept denying things, she’d sound like she was protesting too much. Sometimes saying nothing proved the wisest course.
“I suspect you’d be good for him. He needs someone confident who’ll stand up to him. He needs someone who will make him think. Someone who’ll make him use his head for something more than a place to hang his hat.”
“Has he always been…” Maggie paused, not sure how to phrase her question to Griffin’s mother. “Stubborn, yet laid-back?”
“That boy does have more pride than sense sometimes.” Nannette smiled. “All my children are intelligent. Rory came out of the womb knowing what he wanted to do with his life, and Avery knew in high school she wanted to be a vet.”
“But not Griffin?”
Nannette shook her head. “He was good at a lot of things—football, debating, math—but he didn’t have a passion for anything.”
The timer dinged and Nannette crossed the kitchen and poured two cups of tea. “I’m not sure either one of the finalists are right for him.”
I know they’re not.
After taking a calming breath, Maggie said, “They’re both wonderful, accomplished women.
“From what I’ve seen so far, they cater to him too much. Women don’t realize that Griffin gets bored easily. If something doesn’t challenge him, he moves to the next thing that catches his eye.”
“Is that why he liked bull riding?”
“He enjoyed the challenge of it. He liked matching wits, so to speak, with the bull. He researched the animals that were at an event, and studied their behavior. He knew what moves each was likely to make. It was tough on him when he had to give that up. He hasn’t been the same since.”
“I know the reason he quit had something to do with a car accident, but none of the articles explained his injuries.”
“If you want to know the story, you’ll have to ask him.”
* * *
GRIFFIN SAW MAGGIE tear out of the barn, and wondered what had happened. When a few minutes passed and she didn’t return, he halted the shoot and went in search of her. He hadn’t realized how worried he was and how hard his heart was pounding until he found her seated with his mom at the kitchen table.
While he wanted to race across the room, sweep Maggie into his arms and reassure himself she was okay, he instead counted to ten, then strolled over to his mom. After he kissed her cheek, he turned to Maggie, noting how pale she appeared. “There you are. I wondered where you’d gone.”
And I grew frantic when I couldn’t find you.
He sank into the chair between the two women. “Why’d you leave?”
Maggie explained that breakfast had upset her stomach.
“You sure that’s all it is? You could have altitude sickness, or maybe you’re coming down with something.” He stared at her. “You look pale. Are you running a fever?” He turned to his mom. “Where’s a thermometer?”
His mom patted his arm, a grin on her face. “In the bathroom cupboard to the left of the sink.”
While he located it, Nannette continued, “My daughter-in-law, Elizabeth, had a rough bout of altitude sickness once. For a while we thought we might have to take her to the hospital. Do you have a headache or feel dizzy?”
Maggie shook her head. “I swear I’m fine.”
Griffin returned and handed her the thermometer. She glared at him and said he was being silly, but then dutifully popped it in her mouth.
“I’ve finally found a way to keep you quiet,” he teased.
She huffed and glanced at him. She couldn’t be that sick if she was acting this feisty. But what if she was?
Whoa there. He was being silly worrying about her. She’d be fine, and he had other things on his mind, like making sure he chose a woman who would turn down his proposal.
An electronic beep echoed through the room. Maggie took the thermometer out and looked at it. “Ninety-eight point four. I’m fine.”
“I think you should stay here tonight just in case,” his mom suggested.
“That’s not necessary,” Maggie insisted.
“We found Elizabeth lying on the bathroom floor, too weak to stand or call for help,” Nannette added, her gaze filled with concern. “Is anyone staying in your cabin with you?”
Altitude sickness could be serious. What would Griffin do if he learned tomorrow that Maggie had become seriously ill during the night, with no one there to help? He placed his hand on her arm. “Mom would be up all night worrying. You don’t want that, do you?”
A silly grin on her face, Maggie said, “I have to stay then. I wouldn’t want to cause your mom to lose any sleep on my account.”
* * *
MAGGIE RELAXED ON THE BED in the McAlister guest room. She hadn’t wanted to stay. More than likely morning sickness had caused her earlier stomach troubles. But when Nannette had said Elizabeth almost ended up in the hospital because of altitude sickness, Maggie decided she couldn’t risk the baby’s health by staying at the cabin alone.
When a knock sounded on her door, she went to answer it. Griffin stood there with a heaping plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. The aromas of the home-cooked meal wafted over her.
“Since you didn’t come down to dinner, I brought dinner to you.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. I’m not very hungry,” she told him.
She’d avoided dinner because she couldn’t bear to s
ee Griffin’s family, get to know them, find how much they cared for each other, when she knew she was depriving her child of that family connection.
Griffin stepped past her into the room and placed the plate on the desk. “I’m going to sit here until you eat the potatoes at least. You need the carbs, and you should drink as much water as you can tonight.”
She sat in the desk chair and scooped up a small forkful, praying the food wouldn’t upset her stomach. The creamy, buttery mashed potatoes tasted heavenly. Tears filled her eyes. “My mom used to make potatoes like these.”
“What was she like?”
Her mother had been a compassionate, caring woman who’d grown old too fast because she’d married the wrong man. “She worked hard to provide for me. By the time my father left, my brothers were out on their own.” They had stayed in touch with their dad over the years, and encouraged her to, but Maggie couldn’t forgive him.
When she thought of her mom, she saw a woman working two jobs, trying to give her daughter a better life. Emotions welled up. No. Maggie refused to let her mind go there. “She was a great cook like your mom, and she loved to sew. She made the best clothes.”
“There you are, Griffin,” a female voice said. A young woman stepped into the room. “You must be Maggie. Mom said you were spending the night.”
Maggie stared at the tall, twenty-something blond beauty. Nannette had mentioned her? Oh, dear.
“I’m Avery, Griffin’s sister.” She smiled, and Maggie felt like a dandelion beside a rose. “If he had any manners he would introduce us.”
“You didn’t give me a chance, Avery,” Griffin complained. “Is there some point to this visit?”
“Sugar’s water broke. Everything looks fine, but I knew you’d want to know.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll head out to the barn.” Griffin turned to Maggie. “Avery’s going to be a vet soon.”
Beauty and brains? Life is not fair.
After reminding Griffin she had her cell if he needed her, Avery left, and Griffin held out his hand to Maggie. “Want to watch a foal being born?”
“I have so much to do to prepare for tomorrow.”