by Seton, Cora
“I already told you I lied about that particular skill.”
“Good thing you have some others.” His hands slid to cup her ass. “Important ones.” He rolled over onto his back and propped her up on top of him. “Hmmm. You feel good.”
Regan bit her lip. She did feel good. So good. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, too.
But before she enjoyed another romp in the sack—literally—with Mason, it was time for her to come clean. She’d never expected to fall for him so hard, but she had and she couldn’t keep secrets from him anymore. “I have to tell you something.”
Mason stilled. “That sounds ominous.”
“Not ominous, exactly. Just something you need to know.”
“Okay.”
“I’m having a baby.”
Mason surged upright, nearly dumping her off his lap. He caught her with an arm around her waist. “You’re pregnant?” His sharp gaze held hers.
“No—not yet. I mean—” She stared up at him helplessly.
“Explain.” His tone made her quail. This was the warrior side of Mason. Hard. Unforgiving.
“I didn’t think I’d find anyone,” she blurted. “I decided to have a baby on my own. I’ve been through all the preliminary appointments. I picked this month to get pregnant. I’m due to ovulate just after the twenty-sixth. As soon as I do, I’m getting artificially inseminated.”
Mason blinked “Artificially inseminated?”
“Like your cows.” She spread her hands wide. “No bulls, just turkey-basters. You know.”
His fingers tightened their grip. “So there’s no man involved. No boyfriend? Fiancé?”
“No. I told you there hasn’t been anyone in ages. I gave up.”
“But then you met me.” He leaned closer.
“But then I met you.”
He scooped her up with a single arm, flipped her onto her back on the thin foam pad and straddled her, one hand curling around each of her biceps to hold her firmly in place. “Forget the turkey baster. I can do it so much better. Admit it.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, which were parted in surprise. They twitched.
“How it gets done isn’t the issue.” She wriggled but he didn’t loosen his hold. “It’s what comes after.”
“Would you rather be a single mother in the city or raise a family out here with me?”
“I have to choose right now?”
He growled. “You know the right answer.”
She chuckled. “Maybe. But I’m not absolutely sure yet, and until I’m absolutely sure I’m not getting pregnant.” She struggled to a sitting position and Mason let her go. “You said you’d give me time to decide whether or not this is right for me. I’ll give you my answer before the twentieth. Between now and then we can do a trial run.”
“A trial run, huh?”
“That’s right. We’ll act like we’re already married and see how we like it.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her hand flat against his chest.
“Then let’s get started, wife. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” He slid his hands down to cup her ass.
It was over an hour before they managed to get dressed.
Later that morning in Dundy’s Hardware, she pushed a small metal shopping cart while Mason loaded it up with every tool imaginable. Some she recognized, but others she didn’t. The scope of the work ahead of them began to take shape in her mind. Mason had shown her his revised timeline and although the extent of the repairs ahead of them were daunting, it energized her to know they were going to do it together. The more she thought about renovating the Hall, the more the idea intrigued her. She itched to go online and research the subject, but now was not the time. There was so much else to do first. As Mason picked out tool after tool, she thought about all the jobs on his timeline for the next few weeks. They’d have to work from morning until night to have any hope with keeping up with his lists. She wasn’t sure it was humanly possible to finish them in time.
Mason kept her close as they shopped, as if his body might convince her to partner with him since his words had failed. Regan had to admit it was working. The way he kissed her in out-of-the-way corners, held her hand as they walked down the aisles, and constantly found excuses to surround her with his arms as he pulled things off the shelves had her buzzing with longing for him again.
Right now, however, he was examining two reciprocating saws as if their lives depended on him choosing the right one. She waited patiently, taking the opportunity look him over once again. Mason Hall was as delicious as an ice cream sundae. No wonder she kept wanting more.
Mason glanced at her suddenly, smiled sheepishly, and set the two reciprocating saws back on their shelves. “I can get pretty focused. Sorry.”
“Take your time. You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves, Mason. We’re in this together.”
“I appreciate that.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her. “I hope you realize how hard this is going to be. We won’t have a moment to ourselves these next few weeks. I wanted to wine you and dine you and take you all over the ranch and town so that you’d never want to leave, but instead I’m going to work you to the bone. You’ll probably pack your bags and move right back to that weenie apartment of yours.”
“Weenie, huh? I’ll have you know that’s large by New York standards.”
“Good thing you found yourself a Montana man, then.” He pulled her into an embrace and slipped his hands under the waistband of her jeans.
“No one could call you weenie,” she agreed and leaned into his kiss. A white-haired woman in a Dundy’s Hardware smock rounded the corner of the aisle, took them in and retreated again. Regan pulled away, giggling. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves.”
“Who cares?” But he let her go, grabbed one of the saws and put it into the basket with a confidence that had been slipping moments before. Regan promised herself that she’d do whatever it took to make those deadlines.
When they reached the till, they found themselves in line behind a pretty, curvy blonde in a sundress and cowboy boots, a tiny shrug sweater her only concession to the fact that the weather, while pleasant, wasn’t hot.
“Emma? Emma Larson?”
“Mason Hall! I heard you were back in town.”
News must travel fast around here, Regan thought as the two hugged. Mason turned to her. “This is Emma Larson. She took riding lessons at the ranch when she was a kid.”
“You were a kid yourself.” Emma grinned up at him. “You liked to think you were hot shit, though.”
“I’ve always been hot shit.”
Regan laughed along with them, despite the twinge of jealousy she felt. Everyone in town seemed to know and like Mason. It made her feel like an outsider.
“I thought I heard you’d moved away,” Mason said. They advanced in line, the young woman working the till starting to check through Emma’s purchases.
“I did.” Emma shrugged. “I just got back a week ago. I’m staying with my grandmother for the time being, but I have my eye on a shop in town with an apartment over it. I’ve got an appointment next week with a loan agent.”
Regan perked up. “Do you have all your information gathered?”
“I hope so. This is all new to me; I’ve never bought property before.”
“I could look through what you have and make a few suggestions,” Regan offered. “I mean,” she glanced at Mason. “If you want me to. You don’t even know me.” She felt her cheeks heat.
“Do you know about loans?” Emma cocked her head.
“That’s my job. Or—it was my job. Back in New York City. I was a loan officer at a bank there.”
“Wow! I’d love to have you look my paperwork over. Could I take you to lunch tomorrow?”
Regan thought about the timelines Mason had placed on the kitchen table and shook her head. “I can meet you for coffee after dinner tomorrow night. How about eight o’clock. Is that too late?”
“That’s terrific! Linda’s Diner okay?”
“Sure.”
Emma paid for her purchases and left with a wave. Regan turned to Mason. “You don’t mind me helping Emma, do you?”
“As long as you don’t leave me alone for too long.”
“Mr. Hall, do you mind waiting a minute? I need to get my supervisor.” The cashier’s voice broke into their conversation. She looked them over with frank curiosity. Her name tag read Susan.
Mason looked thoughtful. “Do I know you? I can’t place your face.”
She shook her head. “No, we’ve never met before. I just heard Emma say your name and put two and two together. Mr. Dundy told us that if you came in we needed to get him. He wants to talk to you.”
Regan waited silently beside Mason while Susan went off to fetch the owner. She came back with a dour man in his late sixties, who shook Mason’s hand.
“Sorry about your loss, son.”
“Thank you. Good to see you, Albert.” Mason’s voice was friendly, but cautious. Regan thought she knew what he was worried about. Albert Dundy looked like he wanted to dispense with the civilities as soon as possible and move right along to the business at hand. She could only imagine what that business was.
“I have a matter to discuss with you. Do you want to come into my office?”
Mason glanced around. There were no other customers nearby. “Right here will do fine. Let me guess—Zeke owed you money.”
“That’s right.” Albert folded his arms across his chest. “A lot of money, and I figure you’re the one to see to set it right.”
A muscle ticked in Mason’s cheek. Regan was angry on his behalf. She knew he meant to make good on all Zeke’s debts, so why was Albert acting like he was trying to get away with something?
“How much?”
“About forty-five hundred.”
Mason didn’t move, but she could tell the number was a blow.
“I’ll take care of that in a couple of days when I set up a checking account in town.”
“And I’ll sell you those tools when you do.” Albert indicated all the supplies they had loaded onto the checkout counter.
“You’re kidding, right? I’m good for it, Albert—it would just be easier when I’ve moved my cash.”
“Zeke made lots of excuses and promises, too. I’ve already lost enough money to the Halls. I’m not losing any more.”
The more Albert talked, the more Susan seemed to shrink into herself behind the counter. It was obvious the woman would have liked to be anywhere but here.
Mason looked like he was about to lose his temper, but he kept his voice calm. I can use a credit card or I can write you an out-of-state check. Which would you prefer?”
“Credit card.” Albert motioned Susan aside as Mason fished his wallet out of his pocket. He rang up the tools and added the extra amount to the bill. Mason went through the steps to use his credit card silently, but Regan was sure he was fuming inside. She had a feeling he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. “I’m not the only one owed money,” Albert added as he finished the transaction.
“So I’ve heard. How much do you think Zeke owed in all?”
“All told?” Albert pursed his lips. “Maybe about twenty grand?”
“Hell.”
Regan’s stomach tightened at the look on Mason’s face. The number must be much higher than he’d expected.
“If you’d ever visited your uncle and great aunt, you’d know a little more about what’s been going on. Zeke’s been hitting up everyone for cash. He’s a real nuisance.” Albert handed him his receipt. Mason balled it up and stuffed it in his pocket.
“He was a nuisance, you mean. Now he’s dead.”
Mason’s blunt words jolted Albert out of his diatribe. “I guess so, but he sure left a mess behind him.”
“Well now I’ve started to clean it up.” Mason grabbed the purchases that Susan had silently bagged up, and led the way back to his truck.
Regan followed him, climbing into the passenger seat. “Are you going to have enough money to pay everyone back?” she asked finally when the silence had stretched out too long.
Mason nodded curtly. “But things will be tight when I do.”
Chapter Fourteen
‡
Several hours later, Mason was finally calming down. If it hadn’t been for Regan’s presence, he’d have told Albert to shove his attitude up his ass and walked out without purchasing a single tool. Not that he didn’t mean to honor Zeke’s debts—of course he did—but he didn’t need the likes of Albert Dundy acting like he was trying to pull a fast one.
In front of Regan, too. In front of the woman he was trying to convince to marry him. Some homecoming this was turning out to be. Who knew how many others felt like Albert did? Who knew how many would come around with their hands out before all was said and done? He’d had to hide his anger behind a façade of calm while he and Regan hit the building supply store to pick up a load of lumber and several spools of fencing wire, and then a furniture store to pick out a bed. Luckily, Zeke didn’t seem to owe any money at either of those establishments. He’d decided to tackle the stables first and then the main barn. Once those were fixed up they’d have to face the task of fencing in the pastures. Mason had no idea how Regan would take to barbed wire and he wished he could call in some favors and get a few men to help, but the way he figured it, he couldn’t ask anyone to help until he’d paid off Uncle Zeke’s debts, and before he did that he needed to talk to his brothers. He’d scheduled a call for that evening.
One problem at a time, he told himself. At least he’d had a few hours out in the sunshine and fresh air to restore his mood. They were perched on two ladders resting side by side against the back wall of the stable, replacing an upper plank. Regan held the board in place while Mason fought to screw it in. Both of them worked at an unnatural angle with their arms over their heads. When Mason bobbled the screw and it bounced off of Regan’s shoulder, he stifled a curse and reached for another. “Sorry,” he called down.
“Watch it, Navy boy. I guess now I know why you made me wear these stupid safety glasses.” Regan looked up at him and Mason had to smile. She looked adorable in them.
“I’ll try to keep a better hold of the next one.”
“You do that. And hurry—my arms are growing numb. I think they’re going to get permanently stuck this way.”
“I’m hurrying.” So far she hadn’t complained much about the hard work or the uncomfortable circumstances. The day was pleasant, at least, but they had many hours to go before they could check everything off their to-do list. Regan was far more cheerful than the SEALs he generally worked with. And nicer to look at, too.
Mason got the screw in the second time around and they climbed down their ladders and stood back to get a better look.
“Only forty more to go.” Mason gave her bottom a squeeze.
Regan groaned. “I better get a prize when we’re done.”
“Oh, you will. I promise.”
After dinner he left Regan making up their new bed and drove to Linda’s Diner in town where he could get wi-fi. He connected the call to his brothers and filled them in on the news about Zeke’s debts.
“Well, shit,” Austin said. “That puts a dent in our capital.”
“What do you want to do?” Zane asked.
“What can I do? I’ve got to pay everyone back. It’ll take me days just to track all of them down—it’s not like anyone kept a list—but when I find them, I’m going to pay them. What that means is I’ll need each of you to wire me some cash. We’ve got all kinds of repairs to make on the place and then we’ll need to purchase the livestock.”
“I can do that.” Austin was nodding. So was Zane.
Mason waited for Colt.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll wire you some money. I just want it on record that I’m not getting anything out of this. First I’m supposed to find a wife, now I have to give you all my money? You know I plan to stay in the Air Force until I’m an old man.
”
“How’s that wife business going?” He didn’t have time for Colt’s sob story.
All three shrugged and the familiar worry in Mason’s gut grew stronger. “Well, what the hell are you all waiting for? Man up and get on it. None of you have any time to lose.”
His brothers regarded him stonily.
“Calm down, Mase—you’ll give yourself a heart attack,” Zane finally said.
Calm down? “I’m the one dealing with all this bullshit. I’m the one with boots on the ground. The rest of you are out there farting around while I’m doing all the work!” He realized the restaurant had gone silent around him and he lowered his voice. “I need all of you to do your part. Are we clear?”
“You got it.” Austin signed off, his expression as hard as iron.
“Will do,” Zane said, “although I’d hardly call what we’re doing farting around.” He cut the call, too.
“I don’t even want to get married,” Colt started.
Mason slammed his laptop shut.
* * *
By the time they broke for dinner the following day, Regan knew all too well what Mason meant about not staying awake until eight. She was done in. Her arms and legs ached and she’d found muscles in places she’d never dreamed she’d had them. They had replaced all the missing or broken boards in the stable walls and fixed the stalls inside it. They raked out old bedding left from when Zeke still had horses and swept out the rest of the building, too. Regan turned her broom upside down and swept away as many of the cobwebs as she could reach. Once the shelves and storage areas were cleared of dust and debris, the building was back in working order. They worked quickly, not stopping to chat very often or to take many breaks. She soon realized that if she was tired, she had to speak up. Mason seemed able to work from morning to night without rest—and he seemed oblivious to her lesser capabilities.
He wasn’t oblivious to her, however. Something he made sure to show her every chance he got.
Which she made sure was often.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he tended to focus on the work at hand, though. Sometimes she didn’t think he was aware of her at all—even if she was helping him. She was simply a pair of hands or eyes that supplemented his. Then he would come back to the present, notice her again and smile. She figured his time with the SEALs required that kind of concentration. It didn’t bother her.