“I share Bingo with him...sometimes.”
“I know you do. I see you minding your manners more lately.” And not pestering Jane about broken promises. He ruffled her wavy hair.
“I could share more,” she admitted. Her eyes lit up. “When I practice with Jane and the flowers, I could let her have some to drop on the floor. That would be sharing, too, right?”
“Right.” He didn’t want to tell her the long odds of that happening or to have this talk focus on Jane. “Sharing can sometimes mean more than giving someone your toys. It means giving them a turn or listening to what they have to say. Like when you’re with Robbie. Once in a while, you can let him choose the game or decide what you’re going to play.”
“But my ideas are better!”
It was all he could do not to laugh.
* * *
THE URGE TO laugh left Pete completely when he and Rachel entered the house and went into the kitchen. The sight of his father sitting at the table holding Eric on his knee made his day complete.
A complete disaster.
The kids were thrilled, but he just didn’t need to deal with Mark right now. He had too many other things on his mind.
Quickly, he had excused himself. As he washed up and changed into fresh clothes, he made a point of looking into the mirror to make sure he wore a civil expression.
He’d told Jane he could keep his feelings to himself. That included when he was around his father. He and the man couldn’t agree on a viewpoint if they were both looking through a pair of binoculars together. Still, he had to admit Mark never let his feelings about his son affect his relationship with his grandkids.
He returned to the kitchen to find Mark protesting the idea of staying for supper.
“No, no, I wouldn’t put you out at the last minute like this.”
“It’s not putting us out a bit,” Sharon said. “Stew can always stretch to feed one more. And I’ve already added extra noodles to the pot.”
Fortunately, his father accepted.
Fortunately, because otherwise, who knew when they would see him again. He might be a good grandfather, but he wasn’t often a visitor. A couple of years ago, Pete had to suggest Rachel call his father “Grandpa Mark,” as the kids were much more familiar with “Grandpa Jed.”
With some help from Rachel, he and Sharon got supper on the table, while Mark settled Eric in the high chair.
Sharing a meal with his father didn’t top his list of favorite things to do. Ironically, that thought only reminded him of what he’d told Rachel. We don’t always get what we want. But for his kids’ sake, he’d make it through this.
“More stew, Mark?” Sharon asked.
Not exactly the cuisine the man was used to, but he accepted the bowl when Sharon passed it his way.
“I helped peel the carrots,” Rachel told Mark.
“Did you?” he asked. “That’s good training for you.”
“Rachel’s always a big help to me,” Sharon told him. “She’s a very good worker.”
“And you do a great job, Rachel,” he said. “It sounds like Sharon picked just the right job for you.”
“Yeah,” Rachel said happily.
Pete ignored the jab at him, a reminder of the never-ending arguments he had gotten from his father once he’d taken the wrangler position here at Garland Ranch. Mark was definitely of the belief that the sooner kids were put to work, the better—provided that work met with his approval.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he made an attempt to act civil. “So, what brings you down our way?”
“Just one item in a busy week. I’m en route to Santa Fe again after a meeting in Otero County. Tomorrow, I’m flying to Washington for a couple of days to speak before a Senate committee. Then I’ll be off to Albany for a special meeting of the New York State Bar Association.” Quite a list, but Pete had heard longer, and so had his kids. “Never a dull moment.”
“I’ll bet.”
Unlike your life, his father’s quick smile seemed to say.
Pete would have shoved aside his interpretation as a bad case of paranoia, except that the man had used exactly those words with him more than once. Mark Brannigan might be the smoothest-talking attorney in the state of New Mexico, but he didn’t mind turning rough when he talked to his son.
His father was disappointed in him for not living up to his expectations. For not carrying on the family tradition and adding another Brannigan to the law firm’s letterhead. Pete got that. That didn’t mean he cared. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d asked Jane what was wrong with old-fashioned cowboy values. He only hoped he would show more understanding and be less demanding of his own kids when they grew up.
“Grandpa Mark, you’re always busy, aren’t you?” Rachel asked.
He smiled at her. “I am. But it keeps me out of trouble.”
Her eyes rounded. “Grown-ups get in trouble, too?”
“They sure do.”
“Is kissing somebody trouble?”
“Kissing? At your age, Rachel? I think your father would have something to say about that.”
“Not me!” Giggling, she shot a glance toward Pete.
“You planning to be in the state between now and the end of the month?” He asked the question quickly in case Rachel decided to share what she’d seen in the hotel suite.
Eric banged on his high-chair tray, scattering pieces of the biscuit he’d crumbled to bits.
A few of those crumbs landed on the long sleeve of Mark’s starched white shirt. He brushed them onto his napkin and went on with his to-do list. “No. The rest of the month is just as busy, ending with an address to the UNM School of Law’s seniors prior to their graduation.”
“Graduation!” Rachel exclaimed. “I forgot. Grandpa Mark, I have to give you the invitation for my graduation.”
“And when is that?”
“It’s...” She looked at Pete, who supplied the date.
“I won’t be able to make it—”
“But you have to.”
“As much as I would like that, Rachel, I’m afraid I can’t. But I’ll stop by again and take you for a treat the next time I’m able, all right?”
Rachel eyed him for a long moment, then shrugged.
She’d managed to brush off the disappointment the way Mark had brushed biscuit crumbs from his sleeve. If only she could as easily deal with missing her mother. If only he could find the right way to help her.
“Okay. I’ll give your invitation to Sugar.”
“Sugar?”
From long years of being on the receiving end of it, Pete recognized his father’s method of “clarifying a statement without leading the witness.” Before moving his law practice to Santa Fe, Mark had lived his entire life in Cowboy Creek. He knew the name of the local bakery owner.
“Yes, Sugar,” Rachel confirmed. “From SugarPie’s.”
“Well, I admire your resourcefulness and flexibility, Rachel.”
A silence followed, in which Pete wished he could blame paranoia for his interpretation of his father’s emphasis.
The sound of the doorbell ringing startled Eric. His hands jerked, spraying biscuit crumbs in all directions.
“I’ll get it.” Pete rose, happy for the break from Mark’s pointed comments.
* * *
WHEN PETE SAW Jane standing on the doorstep, his happiness crumbled like the biscuit on Eric’s tray. Stepping onto the porch, he pulled the door half-closed behind him.
His memory conjured up an image of his last encounter with her, of the way they’d played each other and where that had led them. To an action he had thought about more than a dozen times since he’d left her in that hotel room. An action he couldn’t think about repeating. Yet when his gaze homed in on her mouth and she pre
ssed her soft, sweet lips together, he couldn’t help his rush of satisfaction at the certainty she was remembering their kiss, too.
Or was she?
He recalled how easily she’d managed to move away from him when Rachel had appeared on the scene.
Then he thought of the half-opened door behind him. Of his family just a few rooms away. Of Rachel’s giggle at the supper table and earlier, when she had found them in the hotel suite. The images were enough—just barely enough—to prevent him from touching Jane.
But they couldn’t stop him from playing the role he automatically assumed when he was with her. “You back for more?”
“More?”
“Of what we left half-finished.”
“I thought we had finished. We took care of things before they got out of hand. Got it out of our systems. Remember?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Actually, I’ve come to see Rachel. When she was over at the hotel earlier, I told her I’d play a game with her.”
“So, that’s one promise you’re keeping?”
“Excuse me?”
“What happened with the flowers?”
“Oh...” She winced. “I forgot.”
“Right,” he said flatly.
She sighed. “Pete, that didn’t have to be done today. We still have plenty of time before the wedding.”
“Time works in funny ways when you’re five years old.”
“So I hear.” Now her eyes gleamed.
“And she heard you say you’d help her with the flowers last week. Five-year-olds have long memories.” He shook his head. “Forget it. Anyway, we’re still at supper. And she didn’t mention anything about a game. Just as well, since—”
The door swung open behind him. Rachel appeared at his elbow. “Jane! Do you want to take my picture now?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t bring my cameras.”
“Oh...well, that’s okay.” Rachel took her by the hand. “Come and see my grandpa Mark. He’s in the kitchen.”
As they entered the house, Pete followed. He would rather go down the porch steps and keep walking, maybe to the coolness and quietness of the barn. He felt grounded there. Sane. Not the way he did when he was around Jane and couldn’t make up his mind which way he wanted to go.
But he couldn’t leave Sharon to deal with everyone.
Jane didn’t need anyone’s help. She could stand up to his father.
On his way back to the kitchen, he spent most of the time guessing which of the two would throw out the first barbed remark. A much-needed diversion—because otherwise, despite his irritation, he’d obsess over how he could get her alone.
Chapter Eight
So much for worrying about the meeting between his father and Jane. Mark had taken to her as readily as if she were his long-lost daughter. As quickly as his kids had taken a shine to her. And, if he would admit the truth, as easily as he had given in to his attraction today.
His father directed most of his comments to Jane. Rachel sat fidgeting with her slice of apple pie. He could see the repeated efforts she made not to interrupt—not that she would have had much chance. Eric played with a couple of cookies. He and Sharon followed the kids’ leads and focused on their desserts.
Jane’s glamorous, globe-trotting career had a lot to do with his father’s interest. Mark had given Marina’s modeling career a nod of approval, but he seemed to have awarded Jane’s job a much higher ranking.
“A genuine challenge.” Mark gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Not unlike the practice of law. While I attempt to find the truth in a courtroom, you search for it all over the world.”
“Any kind of work can be challenging if it interests you,” Pete put in.
“True,” Jane said.
She gave him a smile that would’ve left his knees shaking if he’d been standing. Was she coming on to him right here? Or was she, like Mark, simply turning on the sophisticated charm?
“I’ve interviewed so many subjects whose jobs most people wouldn’t think twice about,” she went on, “yet once you get them talking, once you dig beneath the surface, they have some fascinating stories to tell.”
“Jane takes lots of pictures,” Rachel said. “Of the hotel and places and people. She showed them to me.”
Jane met his eyes. “The less controversial ones,” she murmured.
The added draw of her five-star-general father hadn’t hurt her ratings with Mark. But it was learning she had photographed some of the biggest names in Washington that really won him over.
As much as Jed bragged about this granddaughter of his, he had never mentioned her political connections. The news made an impression on Pete now, too, but not for the better. It reinforced the similarities between her and his ex. She moved in the same kind of crowd his ex-wife did. And like Marina, she would never settle for being a small-town girl and a ranch manager’s wife.
His father dropped a few high-powered names of his own. “I’d like to see some of those photographs Rachel mentioned.”
“They’re on my computer over at the hotel,” she told him.
“Well, then.” Mark pushed his plate away from him, the slice of pie on it barely touched. “We’ll have to go find your computer. I’ve already seen some of your magazine work, of course. Very impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“I can see where it would hold an interest for collectors. Have you ever thought of offering some of your private photos for sale?”
“Yes, I have. I just haven’t had time to put a decent portfolio together. And I’d need to find a gallery interested in photography and, of course, in what I’d plan to show.”
“I might be able to assist you there,” Mark said. “I have some connections to the art world. Why don’t we see what you’ve got?”
“Thanks, I’d love that. But you don’t need to think about it right now.” She glanced around the table. Her gaze met Pete’s for the briefest moment, then moved on to Rachel and Eric. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your family.”
“That’s not an issue. I was getting ready to leave when you arrived.” Mark stood and reached across the table. “Pete, it’s been good seeing you and the kids. Sharon, a pleasure, as always.”
“Do you have to leave, Grandpa Mark?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
He kissed both kids.
When he began to escort Jane from the room, he was already deep in conversation with her again.
Jane waved a quick goodbye but didn’t stop to chat, didn’t glance back and apparently didn’t give Rachel another thought.
Still at the table, Pete sat with his hand clamped on the edge of his dessert plate as he watched his daughter. Disappointment showed clearly in her face.
“Jane forgot her cameras for my picture,” she said in a low voice. Strike one against the woman. He watched Rachel stare down at her plate. “I just said okay, Daddy. Because you told me I can’t always have what I want.”
“Yes, I did tell you that.”
“And Jane forgot we were gonna play a game because she went with Grandpa Mark.” Strike two, as far as he was concerned. “But that’s okay, too.” She looked up at him. “Because that’s how I can share Jane, right?”
“Right.” He coughed, then tried again. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’m very proud of you.”
Over her head, he met Sharon’s gaze.
“Rachel,” Sharon said, “will you take this to the sink?” She handed over the metal bowl she had used to serve the biscuits.
As the two of them set to work, Pete turned to clean off Eric’s tray and tried to get a handle on his thoughts.
Being a daddy had always been challenging. But his job got more complicated by the minute, thanks to Marina and Mark. And now Jane.
/> His interest in her gave way to irritation on his daughter’s behalf. He didn’t want Jane around his family anyhow. Why should he care that she’d walked off without another word?
Easy answer, he reassured himself, after another quick look at Rachel. He’d hate seeing anyone break a promise to one of his kids.
* * *
JED ENTERED THE office behind the registration desk, where Tina did most of her bookkeeping, along with keeping track of the construction work going on around the hotel. “What are you doing in here so late? Shouldn’t you be spending the evening with your intended?”
“I will be. And with you and Andi and Jane and everybody else. I just wanted to get the checks ready for the contractors for the next phase of the renovations.”
“Good. But speaking of Jane, have you seen her lately?”
“Mmm... I may have caught a glimpse of her going out onto the front porch with Pete’s dad just a minute ago.” She smiled. “Abuelo, I’ve had my eye on you, and I have a feeling you’re up to something.”
“Why should you think that? Can’t I ask the whereabouts of one of my own granddaughters without having a reason?”
“Says the man who got me this.” She held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers, making her diamond engagement ring sparkle in the light from the desk lamp.
He laughed. “Well, I reckon Cole had some part in that, too.”
“Oh, so you admit you can’t do everything all alone?”
“I’ll admit nothing of the sort.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “But what have you got in mind?”
“Not a thing. I just wanted to advise you, in case you’re trying to play matchmaker with Jane and Pete, you’re going to have your hands full.”
“Don’t I know it. They’re both a couple of tough nuts to crack.”
“Well, don’t worry. I have seen a few signs of splintering in Jane—and Cole mentioned Pete’s been very distracted. But you didn’t hear either of those from me.”
“As if I’d turn around and tell one of ’em? You know me better than that.”
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