He squeezed hard and Macy grinned at Ash over his father’s shoulder. If she was right, there were red spots on his cheeks. “Mr. Kingfisher, I must say it is a pleasure to meet you. I might drop by every day for a hug like that.” Macy returned his second squeeze and then stepped away. What was it about the Kingfisher men? Ash was maybe the one person she trusted absolutely. An introduction and a hug, and already Macy was certain whatever happened, life would be better for having been in Martin Kingfisher’s company.
That was an amazing thing to find.
After Martin set his daughter down, three complete twirls with her giggling like she was six years old completed, he clapped his hands. “Hugs are free, Macy. So is advice. Anything else will cost you.”
Before she could ask what else was available, Ash’s mother stuck her head through the narrow doorway over the small saloon-like swinging doors. “Martin. You’ll scare her to death with talk like that, although if you can get her to clear out a few of these baskets, I will not complain.” She shoved a ragged blond braid over her shoulder and wiped her hands on a pink calico apron. “Don’t scare off Ash’s friend. Dinner’s ready.” Then she disappeared.
“Scared? Of what?” Macy mouthed as she exchanged a glance with Ash and he shrugged his shoulders. Whatever should have scared her went right over her head and Ash had no explanation to help her out. Instead, he had the face of a sixteen-year-old suffering his parents at a school open house. Macy loved it. Of all the things she’d seen and done in her life, stepping foot in the Kingfisher home for the first time was one she’d remember forever. Ash was hard to know; meeting his parents blew wide-open a window into his personality and who he was.
“What? I’m not scaring her. I only meant chores. Tax advice, charging for stuff like that. I make these amazing woven baskets, Macy.” Martin Kingfisher leaned forward to murmur, “And I’ll give you the friends-and-family price. You see anything you like, anything at all, make me an offer, ’mkay?” Then he whacked his hand in the center of her back, hard enough to jostle her into Ash’s side, and shoved through the swinging doors.
What was the deal with the baskets? Macy replayed the conversation in her head, but she was more confused than when this had started. Plus, she had a headache. Macy rubbed her forehead and turned back to Ash for direction.
But she couldn’t form a question that made sense, either.
Ash grinned. He steadied her with one arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t have prepared you for this, could I?”
Grateful for the solid warmth against her side, Macy shook her head. “I don’t see how. If you’d tried, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
Winter bumped her shoulder from the other side. “Just think, all this could be yours.” Then she sashayed through the saloon door. Curious about Ash’s reaction, Macy shot him a glance. Whatever he was thinking, Ash had no way of untangling it all.
“They’re smart. They love me and Winter. They can help. No way would I bring you here otherwise.”
Macy laughed. “I believe you, one hundred percent.”
“Me, monosyllables and grunts, from this...” Ash trailed off and shook his head. “Yeah. It makes no sense.” He took a deep breath. “You haven’t met my mother yet, either. It’s only getting weirder, Macy. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Just try to stop me, Ash Kingfisher. This is more entertainment than I’ve had in years.” And it was. Macy refused to let herself dwell on what it might be like to have a family like Ash’s: close, supportive, fun and funny.
She wouldn’t miss her chance to experience it firsthand.
Watching solid, tight-lipped Ash Kingfisher squirm through every minute was going to be a definite bonus.
CHAPTER SEVEN
STANDING IN THE entryway of his parents’ house, Ash realized the thing about Macy Gentry that made it impossible not to consider her the most beautiful woman he’d ever known: she met every challenge with a sparkle in her eye. On most days, he was the challenge she was trying to corral into submission, and it was nice to be locked into the give-and-take that made their relationship work.
Tonight, the pure energy that blazed from her pretty blue eyes was mesmerizing. Before he could stop her, she’d put both hands on the out-of-date saloon doors his mother loved and pushed right into the warm, cluttered kitchen. If she was nervous, it didn’t show.
Considering what he might have said to make it easier to understand his mother preoccupied him for only a second. It was a futile brainteaser. He’d grown up in this house and he’d never come up with the solution.
Determined to follow her and run interference if necessary, Ash halted abruptly when Winter stepped in front of the doors to stop him. Only her head and shoulders appeared over the tiny doors; her wicked grin was enough to send a chill down his spine.
He might be four years older than Winter, but she’d always been the cleverest of the two of them.
“Macy tells me there’s absolutely nothing between the two of you,” Winter slowly drawled. Her eyebrow raised. She spoke volumes with the eyebrows. She went for expressive; he was stuck on stonewall.
“Macy tells you the truth.” Not that he was happy about it. Still, she’d surprised him when she’d taken his hand, and something had clicked in his head. For too long, something had been missing, teasing around the edges of his brain, as if he could catch it if he turned quickly enough. In that second when she’d put her hand in his, a new vision had come into focus.
Then she’d made it clear how unprepared either one of them were for the world to tilt toward something more than coworkers by thinking so loudly he couldn’t ignore it.
Winter’s grin made it easier to be content with a delay. His sister had no trouble believing they could be more. When he had a minute, he could return to the question with Macy.
“Tonight, she called us friends, so I guess that’s better than employee and boss. Which we are. In your official capacity, I think you should warn me away from her.”
“But...” Winter dipped her head down, clearly waiting for the real scoop.
“But.” Ash shook his head. That was it. For the first time in a long time, someone tempted him to take chances, assume the risk in order to gain the reward, but he realized only a fool would push the issue when she’d marked her line clearly in the sand. She loved her job. She wouldn’t risk it. “Nothing else. Friends.”
“Classic blunder, brother.” Winter whistled. “The worst decision she could make would be to turn my big brother down. I thought she was smarter than that.”
“One of the two smartest women I know. Timing. That’s what we’re looking at here. First thing’s first—dinner with Mom and Dad, manage to save your career while we torpedo mine spectacularly. Dating after that. Maybe.” Pinning his hopes on “after this Reserve problem was resolved” was dangerous. Ash crossed his arms over his chest. “Macy’s half a second from sprinting from that kitchen because Mom is washing her chi or some such and you’re standing here, annoying me. Do you want that on your conscience?”
Winter sniffed. “If she’s terrorized by some innocent chi talk, she’s not the woman I thought she was.” She huffed out a breath. “You’re half in love with her already, aren’t you? You wouldn’t gamble on the embarrassment of the parental units otherwise.” Winter patted his shoulder. “It’s your luck that you’d find the female counterpart to your workaholism and obliviousness to what has been right in front of you. Still, I agree with you about timing.” She wagged her finger at him. “First, we’ll tackle this little problem at the Reserve and save both our jobs. You can’t stop true love, just delay it awhile.” Her sympathetic expression melted into laughter as she backed away and Ash slowly followed.
Instead of Macy being confounded by his parents, which he expected, Macy, his mother and his father were doing a cramped version of some Motown dance moves between the refrigerator and the oven wh
ile they set the table. “Turn the music down. The cops are here,” his mother cried over Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours.” Then she dropped the bread basket on the table, scooted around the table, twirled Winter over to her father and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “My son. I’ve missed you.”
Ash dipped his head to rest his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter if it had been five hours or five days since he’d seen his mother, her greeting never changed. He never knew what color her hair would be because she liked to play with dyes and lengths and wigs and a million other things that were part of her personal style, but she always smelled of the lavender soap she made herself from the gardens she tended.
And she always hugged him like she’d never let him go.
“Mom. The food is burning.” Ash squeezed her tightly and glanced up to see his father doing his level best to dance with both Winter and Macy. Since he switched to a two-step when the song shuffled to Patty Loveless singing “I’m That Kind of Girl,” it had turned into a free-for-all. “And we have company.”
Macy’s grin was impossible to miss. When she and Winter spun away from his father to do their own two-step, she was pure sparkle. A little bit of music and his parents’ fun-loving party shuffle had wiped out some of her intimidation. Winter promptly stepped on both of Macy’s feet, and they both giggled.
“Macy? She’s not company,” his mother squawked. “You talk about her enough that I’m certain she’s already family.”
Ash cleared his throat as he watched Macy’s jaw drop. Winter’s wicked laughter was enough to bring the heat of embarrassment back up to his cheeks. At some point, he’d have to get a handle on the blushing. If Sam Blackburn or Brett Hendrix were here, they’d be hooting louder than Winter. Both men had done enough talking about the women in their lives to Ash that they’d relish having the tables turned.
Ash resolved then and there to solve his own relationship questions.
“Now, I know we have serious business to discuss, so I made a proper dinner. Spaghetti. You can never go wrong with pasta, am I right, Macy?” His mother pointed at the seat directly across from Ash’s usual spot and said, “Have a seat. I’ll pour you some rosehip tea.”
Macy blinked slowly and then hurried to take the seat she’d been assigned.
He should have warned her.
But what would he have said, really? While he was considering telling his mother Macy needed a glass of water or coffee or something a little less healthy and a little more common than rosehip tea, his father sat down next to Macy.
“Macy, you like that basket?” his father asked as he leaned over to talk quietly and pointed at a shelf over the door. Ash had a feeling the low-key sales pitch was for his benefit. No doubt his father expected him to put a stop to the hard sell that was coming, but Ash was too worn-out to come up with a defense. Instead, he picked up his glass of “healthy” tea and forced himself to sip.
When Macy did the same and followed with a quick version of the “blech, what is that” lick of her lips, Ash struggled to hold the laughter in.
And it felt so good, he was afraid it was going to escape.
Watching Winter roll her eyes while Macy played along with his father was enough to make a man think life would go on.
“Mr. Kingfisher, that is a very nice basket. Did you make it? What did you use?” Macy asked politely and then took the basket he offered her to trace the lines of color worked into the side. “I love the colors. I see...mountains.” It was nice work. His father had too much time on his hands, thanks to retirement, and turned it into a passion for weaving. Unfortunately, he was also a businessman at heart and was always looking for some cash flow. Martin Kingfisher had never met a sales opportunity he hadn’t seized.
“I did. Handmade. In the tradition handed down from my mother to me. I even made some of the dyes, but I’m still learning.” He tapped Macy’s hand. “You know, the Cherokee woven basket spans generations, the tradition passed mostly through the female line. My mother had no daughters, so I was her unwilling student. As a kid, I didn’t think much of it. Now it keeps me busy and I enjoy it. That’s good work.” Take it from me, his expression said.
His mother huffed out a deep breath. “It is very good work, Martin. In the classes you’re teaching, the neighbors you show them to, everyone tells you that, so you don’t have to force visitors to our table to stroke your ego. You aren’t selling Macy one, either. I’m giving her at least three before she goes, so stop pushing.” She bugged her eyes out at her husband. He stuck his tongue out and winked at Macy.
“Donna’s my biggest fan,” Martin said.
“I really am,” she said with a nod. “And the one who keeps him in line and loves him more than anything. That’s called a ‘wife,’ am I right?” She looked around the table. “Call me Donna, Macy.” Then his mother dished a serving onto Macy’s plate. Macy would never eat that much pasta in a week of meals and her face said so, but she wasn’t going to argue.
“Well,” his father said as he leaned back in his chair, “she has family who’d like a nice gift. It is Christmastime, you know. I’m only trying to help, and you’re always telling me to try to sell them.”
“No family, and all my closest friends are right here.” Macy wrinkled her nose at Ash, ignoring the look his parents exchanged at her words. “But you can bet I’ll take my basket and show it off to anyone I can think of. I could start a collection.” She picked up her fork and pretended to be absorbed in her spaghetti.
Ash could see on each parent’s face the regret and embarrassment at pushing Macy to admit she was on her own.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened with the chief ranger today, Ash?” Winter said from her seat to his right.
Grateful to have the conversation turn, Ash cleared his throat.
“I went to talk to him about hiring a new education director, someone to bring more schools or civic groups in during the slow season and to work with the park guides.” Ash took another sip of the terrible tea. “But I had to... I should back up. I wanted to stop the project, but I’m not the one who got this mess started. Leland Hall told me to research, find the best firm and commission an environmental impact study that could be presented to the Callaways. I followed orders. No one at the Reserve was enthusiastic about the lodge, but we needed something to hold and say, ‘This is the problem.’ I did that, but what benefit would I gain by telling in advance and putting all this heat on myself and jeopardizing my job, not to mention hurting Winter? You’d have had to threaten to do me in before I would have even considered doing something like that.” He glanced over at his sister. The district office was generally in favor of the lodge project, but Winter wanted to protect the Reserve, even if the addition meant new growth opportunities. They’d discussed their concerns over the habitat destruction more than once. “I don’t know if I would have released the report early if it had occurred to me, but I hope not. I know it’s causing trouble with the Callaways, and it’s not just your wedding in jeopardy.”
“But the tip-off to the governor was anonymous,” his father murmured. “Why all the focus on you?” He rested his chin on his hand as he watched Winter. “And, my girl, what does your fiancé say about all this?”
Winter sighed. “I don’t know the answer to that one. We talked the morning the story hit, but as soon as he mentioned Ash...” She cleared her throat. “I told him clearly what I thought about any attempts to make Ash the face of this story and he didn’t appreciate it. Now he’s not returning my calls, probably because he’s waiting on his father to decide what happens next. But all of Whit’s campaign plans revolve around heritage, history and family values. As soon as Richard Duncan had the means to punch holes in that, he took it. Making my brother the face of it? That’s good television, strong ratings, easy for voters to remember. And my brother as the leading opponent? It’s too
juicy.” She shook her head. “A lodge that destroys the land it’s built on is going to run against the Callaway reputation for protecting Tennessee’s past and pride. Founding fathers of the state capital, benefactors of so many organizations and the reserves... It won’t do for them to be seen chasing the almighty dollar like this.”
“Even if Ash did do that—” his mother snapped before raising one hand. “Now, I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’ but the minute you introduced me to Whit, I had the skeeves.” She tapped the table. “Skeeves don’t lie.”
Macy’s slow blinks indicated she had no idea what the skeeves were. That’s because it was something his mother had latched onto when Ash was in the third grade.
“Skeeves. Like getting the shivers, but about someone you think is a criminal and you don’t have the proof,” Ash translated. Macy listened carefully and then answered with a firm nod.
“Like the bully who chased Ash from the bus stop for three weeks until he told me about it. Too young to have a criminal record but I could see it looming in his future if we didn’t change his path, you know?” His mother waited for Ash to agree. “And what did I do?”
Ash didn’t want to say it.
His mother raised her eyebrows.
She’d wait until dinner got cold.
“She cleared the skeeves.” Ash bit his lip as he watched Macy’s slow blinks turn to fast ones. First, she’d been confused; now she was trying not to smirk.
“Burn a few of the right herbs, make a case to the universe, and the skeeves can be turned away.” His mother jumped up. “I’ve seen it happen. That bully? He’s a pediatrician now in Nashville. Nice family pictures on Facebook. I’ve got enough sage to work something out.” Before Ash could stop her, his mother had stepped out of the room into her patio greenhouse.
Ash slumped back against his chair. He should have had this conversation with Winter and Macy at the ranger station. Anytime his parents were involved, the whole plan went through some detours.
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