“Like wolves?”
“That, and becoming a surrogate for your sister so each of you can realize your dreams.”
She put one hand to his heart and shook her head as if in amazement. “You are the most self-actualized man I’ve ever known, and I love you.”
He snickered softly. “I don’t know what that means, but the kids told me they were okay with you having Mia’s baby. So, the answer to your question is: before. Long, long before. Like…tomorrow, before.”
She bit down on her lip, then grinned and cried, “Yes. Mia may be disappointed that you beat me to the asking, but my answer is yes. I want to marry you and make a life together with you and your grandchildren…our children.”
Then, before he’d quite recovered from his joy and shock, she planted another long, lusty kiss on him and said, “Don’t you owe me some hot sex?”
He shot to his feet while he could still walk, and grabbed her hand. “Master bedroom is upstairs on the left. I’ll bring your suitcase—” The big one JJ had lugged in after supper. “—as soon as I get JJ squared away.”
She picked up both wine glasses and the bottle, then gave him a playful wink and walked away.
His gaze stayed glued to her shapely butt until she reached the foot of the stairs, then he forced his libido to calm down. He walked to the two, heavy, oak pocket doors that separated the living room from the smaller media nook. He was happy to see his grandson engrossed in an animated blockbuster instead of eavesdropping on him and Meg.
Hank spotted the remote on the table beside the love seat and pushed the pause button. When JJ looked up, Hank gave him a two-thumbs-up signal.
“Really? She said yes? Way to go, Grandpa.”
Hank decided not to make a big deal about it—he and Meg still had a lot of details to iron out, but he knew in his heart they were committed and in love. They weren’t kids anymore. Each had a pretty clear sense of the big picture—and it looked bright and amazing.
“We’re going to bed. Would you do me a favor and listen for Bravo if he has a nightmare?”
JJ grinned. “And keep him from going to your room?”
Hank smiled, too. “That would be nice.”
“No problem.” Then, he reached for the remote and hit “play.”
Play, Hank thought, his heart jittery with excitement and anticipation of what was coming. Exactly what I have in mind.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Hank’s first clue that a Zabrinski New Year’s Eve party was unlike anything he’d ever attended came when he turned into the driveway and was met by a high-school-age kid in a top hat. The glitzy silver and gold nametag stuck to his down jacket read: Jason Briggs.
He moved like a linebacker, but he greeted them with a friendly smile. “Welcome and happy New Year. Your name please?” he asked, consulting his lighted clipboard.
“Zabrinski-Firestone,” Meg said, leaning across JJ.
Hank rolled his eyes. They’d been arguing about names for two days. In jest.
“Zabrinski-Firestone sounds like a tire company,” he’d complained.
“Do you like Firestone-Zabrinski better? Because, in all fairness, I think you should change your name, too.”
He’d quickly dropped the subject.
The kid made a flourishing mark with his Sharpie. “Firestone. Yup. Got it. One second and I’ll open the gate for you. Miss James wanted me to remind all the guests that Austen hired half the football team as designated drivers. So, feel free to enjoy yourself to the max because we will make sure you get home safely.”
“Um…thank you. I brought a designated driver of my own, but thanks, anyway.”
As they waited for the gate to open, Hank looked at his future wife. “We’re not in Montana anymore, are we? Is this the sovereign state of Zabrinski?”
Meg snickered. “Don’t say that to my brother. He already has a big head.”
“How big?” Bravo asked from the back.
Hank groaned. “Now, you’ve done it. He’s gonna want to measure Austen’s head.”
Meg laughed merrily. “I wonder if Serena will have a tape measure here?”
As they approached the brightly lit home and outbuildings, Hank was impressed…because the place wasn’t the least bit ostentatious. “Wow. I was expecting a mansion.”
“Well, the house started out as Austen’s hunting retreat. He probably didn’t stay here more than two weeks every year. But then things changed in Helena and he met Serena James. She’s been renting my brother, Paul’s place, next door. But Bailey told me Paul sold it to her right after Christmas. The long-term plan is to have her parents move into the farmhouse once Serena and Austen get married.”
“Another wedding in the family? When will that be?”
She shook her head. “That’s anybody’s guess. Serena is her own person.”
Hank still felt a little uneasy about announcing their engagement tonight. He’d spoken with Meg’s parents on the phone, but he would have preferred to ask Bob Zabrinski for his eldest daughter’s hand in person. Both of her parents had been warm and welcoming when they’d talked. And they booked a time to Skype with the kids after that initial call. Meg had asked her parents to keep the news to themselves so she could make a big, blanket announcement at the party.
Hank’s stomach would probably be a ball of knots until that was over.
“How many people are you expecting to be here?”
She pointed to another kid in a top hat. “Ooh, parking attendants. Nice. We won’t have to track snow and ice into the house.”
As he pulled up practically to the front door, he heard her say, “I’m hoping for under a hundred.”
He and JJ looked at each and mouthed, “A hundred?”
*
“Welcome,” the tall, well-built doorman said, holding the gorgeous, red oak door for them.
“Quarterback?” Meg hissed as they handed their coats to another young tuxedo-clad youth.
“Definitely,” Hank agreed.
Meg had gone to great effort to dress them with the panache she deemed necessary. New shoes, socks, dressy pants, and button-down shirts for Hank and the boys—although in Hank’s case, she agreed his black, Teju lizard dress boots were perfect, so she’d left his feet alone.
She’d found the perfect fancy dresses for herself and the girls. Annie glowed like a princess in pale pink tights and a shimmery white dress adorned with pink butterflies. The small heels on her pink patent leather shoes were over-the-top perfection.
When Hank picked up Mystic from her carrier, he swore the now, five-month old batted her eyes like a tiny coquette in raspberry, black and cream—and she kicked her tiny black ballet slippers like she was ready to dance.
But Meg completely stole the show. Her strapless silver sheath hugged her curves the way his hands did every night.
“I won’t be in this kind of shape for long,” she’d told him, “so why not make the most of it?” And that she did.
Her thick, honey gold hair fell in a rich cascade over one shoulder. Her red lips begged to be kissed, but she made him promise not to mess up her lipstick until twelve o’clock.
He’d nearly choked when he saw the price of her new, sparkly, open-toe heels. So, Meg sat him down at her computer and showed him her online bank accounts. The number of digits left him in shock. “You’re rich.”
“Comfortable. I save well. And I learned how to invest from my ex-brother-in-law. Everything he did…I did the exact opposite.”
She also explained that she owned a condo, two “cash cow” rental properties near the university, and her cabin was paid for.
“Oh,” she’d added, “and I pulled up the original listing for my cabin, and I think there’s a good chance your helicopter is on my property, not the Forest Service’s. So, we can take our time deconstructing Betsy.”
Something he would look forward to this summer, depending on how the pregnancy went. The one subject Meg and Mia decided not to share tonight
.
Surrogacy, it turned out, was more complicated than anyone had guessed. And Meg’s doctor would have the final say on the subject.
The two sisters had an appointment scheduled with the specialist next week. So, until then, although word had gotten out, everyone in the family was holding their breath and keeping their fingers crossed, before releasing the news to the public.
“There you are,” a woman shouted above the hum of music coming from Austen’s high-end sound system. “I was afraid you weren’t coming. Let me see that baby.”
Meg had warned him that Paul’s wife, Bailey, who was seven or so months pregnant, was “baby crazy.”
“Oh, Paul, look at her,” Bailey squealed. “Isn’t she adorable? I want a girl. Oh, I hope we have a girl.”
A good-looking guy with an easy smile accompanied the beautiful woman who broadcast her pregnancy in skin-tight leggings, boots with bling, and a thigh-length, V-neck white sweater that hugged her belly and showed off a gorgeous Montana sapphire necklace, which Mystic lunged for, nearly dislocating herself from Hank’s arms.
“Wow. She likes your necklace,” Hank said, giving up the baby to Bailey’s outstretched hands.
“Or her boobs,” Mia said, joining them. “My fiancé can’t keep his camera off Bailey’s cleavage, either.”
Paul gave the photographer who walked up a second later a stern look. “Are you taking pictures of my wife’s breasts?”
“Yeah. Wanna see?”
“Uh-huh.”
Meg shook her head and gave her brother a healthy shove. “Quit messin’ around, you two. I want to introduce Henry and his grandchildren.”
Everyone behaved beautifully until Mia said, “Did you bring your dog?”
Hank and Meg had argued about the wisdom of taking Rook, who could be a typical alpha male around strange dogs, to a home that already had a number of dogs. “Mia wants to introduce him to Roxie. She thinks they’ll make beautiful puppies together.”
In the end, Hank had agreed—mainly because Rook wouldn’t leave the back of Meg’s truck without permission and he loved riding in the frosty cold.
“He’s in the truck,” Hank said.
“Awesome. Roxie’s in my SUV. Maybe we’ll introduce them later.”
Maybe.
“Why is my whole family standing in the foyer blocking traffic?” A handsome man in a designer tux walked toward them from living room. “Come in. Mingle. Drink. Party. Do you need written instructions? If so, Serena has them for you.”
Mia, who looked like a slender flame in red silk and black stilettos, stuck out her tongue at her twin, then slipped her arm under that of her photographer fiancé’s.
“We brought champagne. Ryker had a case of his favorite imported from France. Who’s with me?” She looked pointedly at Henry. “You, for sure. I have news.”
Hank appealed to Meg for help, but she merely shook her head. “Go with them. I’ll be there in a second. I want to introduce the kids to each other,” she said, taking the baby from Bailey.
Hank watched her escort Bravo and Annie down the hall toward the room at the very end, where he could detect the sound of children’s laughter. He wasn’t sure where JJ had disappeared to. When Hank had questioned the wisdom of mixing young children and a dressy adult party, Meg informed him that Bailey’s mom and dad had offered to entertain the children in the barn.
Once the full contingent was gathered, they’d jump in a heated “Gator” piloted by more of Austen’s—or, rather, Serena’s—varsity football crew. Half the cheer squad would be in the barn ready to “babysit,” although, by the sound of it, the kids would be too busy playing games, roasting hot dogs and competing for prizes to realize they were missing the grown-ups’ party.
He had to admit, he’d never met a family like the Zabrinskis, but, so far, he liked what he saw. Not the wealth—the love.
*
Meg’s heels required her to lean down to hold Annie’s hand as she led the little girl and Bravo toward the master bedroom, where OC and Louise Jenkins were waiting.
It came as no surprise when they walked in the door and she saw Frozen on her brother’s giant big-screen TV. Meg bit back a chortle.
Bravo charged ahead. “The cold movie. My favorite.”
He barely acknowledged Meg’s introductions to the older woman with the warm, grandmotherly smile.
“Hello, Bravo. What a great name. And, Annie,” Louise said, “I’ve heard so much about you. Another reader. We’re so blessed.”
“Is everybody ready for some fun?” OC shouted to be heard above the iconic theme song onscreen.
Four or five little heads nodded, including Annie’s.
“Where are the older kids?” Meg asked.
“We let Hunter lead a few of the big kids over. Mark and…is it JJ?”
Meg nodded.
“Those two seemed to hit off right away.”
Meg heaved a sigh of relief. “I thought they would.”
“Emilee and Chloe are across the hall with a friend of Bailey’s. They’re going to take turns helping with the babies. We didn’t want the little ones too far from their mommies,” Louise said, taking Mystic from Meg’s arms.
“Brilliant. I wondered how you were going to handle that.”
“I have to say your brother has surprised us all. He’s practically a Renaissance man.”
OC’s snort segued into a groan when his wife stepped on his good foot.
Meg hid her grin by bending down to Annie’s level. “You’re going to have so much fun, but if you get worried or need to talk to me or your grandpa, just ask Louise to call us, okay? Louise is a librarian and an author.”
To Louise, Meg said, “Bailey read me a couple of passages from your book on the phone. They made me cry.”
Louise exchanged a look with her husband. “You’re too kind.”
“But she’ll sell you a copy. Just say the word,” OC put in, humorously.
His wife made an “ignore him” gesture. “I hear you’re writing a book, too. Young adult, right?”
“That’s my plan…once the holidays are over and things settle down.” After the wedding, and we get the custody issues and surrogacy matter settled. “In all honesty, this writing thing is turning out to be a lot more work than I anticipated.”
Louise laughed. “That’s what all the authors I know say. Welcome to the club.”
They chatted a few minutes longer until a family with three little girls not much older than Annie came in.
Louise gave Meg a thumbs-up signal and said, “Go, have fun. We’re really excited about being able to spend the evening with the children. This is going to be the best New Year’s Eve party of my life. We’re hoping Austen will make it a tradition.”
“It will be for sure, if Serena has a say in it,” OC told her. “That’s one clever lady. She figured if you hire teenagers, make them dress up and pay them good money not to drink, everybody wins. Downright brilliant, in my opinion.”
Meg agreed.
“And I already told her crew if I see any sign of booze or smell anything suspicious, I’ll whack ’em with my cane.”
Meg laughed. Talk about brilliant planning, she thought. Who better than the former town drunk to chaperone the chaperones?
OC Jenkins had gone from cautionary tale to role model, proving to all that you can change if you want to badly enough.
Meg kissed Annie and Bravo goodbye then returned to the big people’s party to rescue her beloved, who she’d more or less tossed to the wolves…or her siblings, which amounted to the same thing at times.
She stopped by the kitchen, where Serena’s parents and two men she hadn’t met before were bustling about preparing spectacularly aromatic dishes.
“Don’t tell me my brother made the James family work instead of hiring a caterer?” she asked, plucking a small, toasty phyllo pocket with some sort of filling from the outstretched hands of a very handsome older man who was built like a Navy SEAL.
�
�Absolutely not. Macklin had to threaten Austen with bodily harm if he let anyone but the James family in this kitchen,” a tall, lanky man with avant-garde plastic frame glasses and a small blond soul patch under his bottom lip said. “I’m Serena’s brother, Peyton, by the way. And the man with the food is Macklin. My better half.”
Meg was too busy succumbing to a food orgasm to respond. She chewed and moaned at the same time. “Oh, my word, what was that?”
Peyton crowed with obvious glee. “I told you foie gras was a must, Mackie.”
Macklin bowed slightly, acknowledging the compliment, and then he turned with elegant grace and floated away with the tray of culinary bliss. Before Meg could follow, Serena walked in.
“Hi, Meg,” she said, giving a one-arm hug while handing two empty plates to her mother. “Have you met my folks?”
Meg nodded. “Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. So much has happened in such a short time, I can’t keep track of anything. And school starts again in three days.” She shuddered. “Thank, God, Mom and Dad are moving in.”
“To your house?”
“Yes. Paul and I signed the papers yesterday. Once escrow closes it’ll be mine, and since I’m over here so much, I really needed someone hands-on that I can trust with my herd.”
“How are the alpacas?”
“Great,” Serena’s mother answered. “They love Montana.”
“And your state is growing on us,” her father added. “Even the snow.”
Meg stayed to chat a few minutes longer. She accepted one of the fancy bottled waters she’d come for and continued on with her mission.
Where’s Henry?
She spotted him near the fireplace, talking to her sister. Henry could have been a model for elegant western wear with his pristine white shirt encasing his broad shoulders, his well-cut black jeans, and the sparkly, white gold belt buckle at his trim waist—a belated Christmas present from her. Mia’s spectacular red flame dress and stilettos complemented him perfectly.
A clicking noise made her look to her left. Ryker, his omnipresent camera to his eye, snapped a few more frames before looking her way. “Sexy, aren’t they?”
Montana Maverick Page 16