Operation Ginger Avenger [Divine Creek Ranch 24] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  Bernice preened a little as she modeled the blinged-out rounded cat-eye frames for them. “I was having lunch and spending some time shopping with my son, Josh, one day, and I needed some new reading glasses. We stopped at one of those mall kiosks so I could try on a few pairs. I hadn’t intended to get these, just wanted to try them on and see how I looked, for giggles. But then my son…”

  Abigail chuckled. “Her less-than-smooth son.”

  “Josh helpfully informed me that these frames were intended for a much younger woman. Well, I don’t have to tell you, as soon as he said that, I bought them, and another pair with rhinestone sparkles along the sidepieces. Once he removed his foot from his mouth, I reminded him that I’m not quite ready for the old age home just yet. And when I told his fathers what he’d said, they proceeded to remind him, in no uncertain terms, that I was still one red-hot mama.”

  The baby startled a bit when the women burst into laughter but quickly settled.

  Grace looked positively languid in her chair rocking as she smiled at Erin and said, “I’ll talk to Ethan for you, Erin. I have an idea who you’re talking about—”

  “Like we don’t already know,” Charity butted in.

  Erin stuck her tongue out, and Grace continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “And I think Ethan’s more concerned about past history, but he forgets that one of his best friends, Joaquin, was possibly the biggest man whore rodeo cowboy of all time, and he settled down just fine. And you’d never catch him dictating to Teresa what she can or can’t do. He’s protective, no doubt, but they don’t tell Teresa to do anything.”

  With apparent relish, Charity said, “Their mama would castrate them if they tried.”

  “Maria?” Kate asked, a sparkle coming into her eyes, and then she cast a look at Erin. “Oh, I like her. She’s got fire and spirit. I’ll bet she gave those men of hers a wild time of it back in her day. She still has two sons who are bachelors, doesn’t she?”

  Erin stood suddenly, rubbing her hands on her pants. “And on that note, I’m gonna run into town. You need anything, Grace?”

  “Nope, I’m good,” Grace said, looking blissed out and a little sleepy.

  “Looks to me like someone needs a nap,” Kate said, holding out her hands as Jessica rose from her seat.

  “I’d better go,” she said, handing the baby off with one last caress to the top of her head.

  Grace waved her hand dismissively. “You just got here, Jess. You stay and visit. I’m just gonna go upstairs for a tiny little rest since Callie needs to go down for a nap, too. We were up early this morning, and it’s been an active day.”

  “Sleep when she does, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself too much. I’ll be right back, ladies,” Kate said as she followed Grace upstairs, carrying little Callie Beth in her capable arms.

  Jessica hovered in front of the couch and then sat back down. Bella would be a handful if she didn’t get to spend more than just a few minutes with Rose Marie. And then she remembered the guys had said they’d return to the house for her when they were done anyway. The watchdog routine was still taking some getting used to.

  Erin’s phone chirped, and she clenched her jaw at whatever she saw on screen. Jessica’s grandmother would’ve said Erin had gumption…in spades. Erin excused herself and returned to the kitchen with the phone in hand, rapidly typing, wearing a frown.

  Charity shook with a silent chuckle and whispered, “Men are trouble.”

  “Tell me about it,” Abigail said with a giggle. “Tell me about your men, Charity. They must be strong ones to handle you. Am I right?”

  With a laugh, Charity nodded. “It took us a while to get our foursome together. I’d loved all three of them since we were in school together, but I made my choice, and Justin and I married young. Had our kids and watched them grow. Val and Ransome were self-employed and on the road all the time. And…bounty hunting is dangerous work, so they didn’t want to put us in the way of danger.”

  “But the heart wants what it wants, doesn’t it?” Grandma Kate said as she took the remaining stairs and rejoined them in the living room.

  “You’re right, Kate. It just takes some of us longer to come around to it. In the end, it was Justin who convinced me.”

  Jessica was surprised when two tall, broad shadows approached the French doors at the back of the house, thinking it was Tank and Troy returning for her already. Charity turned to look as the door opened and then sat back with a naughty grin. “The shit’s fixing to hit the fan, girls.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “’Scuse me, Jack. I need to take this,” Tank said as he removed his vibrating phone from his pocket. His mom’s pretty face popped up on the screen.

  “Sure,” Jack replied with a nod toward the horse stalls before heading in that direction.

  Tank moved to a quiet corner of the barn where small hay bales and a roping dummy were set up and took a seat on one of the bales as he answered the call. “Drummond.”

  “Hi there, honey. I just wanted to touch base and remind you about Thanksgiving.”

  He smiled, thinking about the bacon-wrapped turkey she’d promised to make just for him. “How could I possibly forget?” Sweet potatoes covered with mini marshmallows and crunchy pecans and brown sugar. Green bean casserole. Mashed taters. His stomach growled.

  “Well, I knew you wouldn’t forget Thanksgiving, but remember Lila wants to take another Christmas portrait. You know what that means.”

  He groaned. “Mooommm…” He’d filed that little extra info in the back of his brain, secretly hoping he could claim he’d forgotten. “I don’t wanna.”

  His mother giggled. “You used to whine like that when you were ten. You men. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s festive and fun.

  “You have weird ideas about fun, Mom.”

  “Think of all the lovely memories we’ve made over the years with the Christmas portrait tradition. Oh, do you remember that suit—”

  “My point exactly. You would whine, too, if Aunt Winifred had crocheted a Christmas suit for you, that your mother made you wear.” He squirmed just thinking about the itchy yarn she’d used to crochet an entire two-piece red and white striped Christmas suit for the Christmas portrait one year. With his natural coloring, plus his red-faced humiliation, that portrait had been the talk of the town amongst his mother’s friends. He’d secretly burned it, with Troy’s help, with no one the wiser. He simply couldn’t risk being forced to wear it again.

  “What a bunch of Scrooges. Your father doesn’t like it any more than you do. Honestly, the men in this family act like we’re torturing them. It’s just a Christmas sweater, for Pete’s sake.”

  “It’s embarrassing. Mostly because I know everyone in Dripping Springs will see it.”

  “Well, of course. Why spring for a family portrait if I can’t use it for Christmas cards? Hang on. Your father wants me to put you on speakerphone.”

  Tank could hear his parents’ playful squabbling in the background, and his father said, “Maryetta, you should listen to the boy and cut him some slack. As I recall, you’ve already used up your allotment of child torture for at least the coming year when you made that video.”

  Maryetta let out a squeal and laughed. “You just want to get out of going shopping for a Christmas sweater, Mr. Drummond. Don’t think I don’t have your number. And Tank and Troy didn’t mind that I made that video. It’s made life more exciting for them, I bet.”

  Tank snorted with laughter. “That’s not exactly the way I’d put it. Thanks for the help, Dad.”

  There was a muffled scraping sound, and his mother said, “No, you may not have the phone, Mister. You’ll just conspire about how to get out of taking pictures, and that’s not happening. Missed me!” she exclaimed with a giggle.

  Tank heard grumbling and laughter in the background and said, “Do I need to let you go, Mom? It sounds to me like the two of you need to get a room.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, son. I’m not
finished with you yet.”

  “Mooommm, I don’t want to,” he whined. He hated shopping unless it was simple stuff, like shopping online for work clothes, where he could go to his favorite work wear website, order seven or eight denim shirts, all the same style, and seven or eight pairs of Wranglers, all the same style and size. Easy-peasy. What his mom was asking was akin to torture. Decision making about something he’d wear once for a stupid holiday picture, all because his sister had a brand-new baby boy. Why did he have to wear a Christmas sweater?

  “Aw, would you like some cheese with your whine? You should be grateful you’ll only have to wear it for the picture, and then you can take it off. You know, this would all be simpler if you’d let me shop for it for you. I know your sizes and everything. You wouldn’t have to worry about it then. Troy is letting me buy his,” she added with a teasing tone. “He knows how important this is to me and to your sister. This year’s picture is going to be a classic.”

  “No, Mom. We tried that, remember? I’m not risking wearing another red pom-pom on my chest.” She’d bought him a Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer sweater, complete with detachable battery pack.

  “You were adorable, especially once I turned on the blinking light for Rudolph’s nose.”

  “I was emasculated, Mom. I’m an Army Ranger. Why couldn’t you find me a sweater that was suitably masculine? This is why I don’t trust your Christmas sweater shopping skills. Your radar is faulty.”

  “Well, I asked them for a sweater suitable for an Army Ranger, and that was what Emmylou Hardman suggested to me.”

  “Mom, for future reference, don’t ask my ex-girlfriends for advice on what to buy me. It’s just an opportunity to take revenge.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Troy liked his just fine.”

  “He’s not her ex-boyfriend, and he got a cool camouflage Christmas sweater. She didn’t date him. She was taking revenge, and you fell for it.”

  “I liked her. She was nice.”

  “She was a psycho, Mom.” Emmylou had come along during his “date crazy chicks” phase.

  “Potato-potahto. Let me shop for your sweater. One less thing. Then you can devote all your time to shopping for my Christmas present and Jessica’s. Oh, I need to find out what size Bella wears.”

  Tank chuckled. “I don’t know, but I can find out for you. I can sure picture her in a goofy Christmas sweater. She’d love it.”

  “Good, because we want Jessica and Bella in this year’s Christmas picture.” Tank hesitated just a second too long, and she said, “Don’t worry, Tank. It won’t jinx anything. You want to bring them home for Thanksgiving, and I want them in the picture.”

  “But…you’re going to use it for the family Christmas card. That’s going to lead to…”

  “You let me worry about all the busybodies, son. I have such a good feeling about all of this.”

  Tank smiled. To be honest, I do, too. But his mom sent that card out to everyone, not just family, but to everyone she knew in his hometown, Dripping Springs, Texas.

  “Did I tell you that Erika is going to take the portraits?”

  “What?” he asked. “Mom, why? It’s already going to be culture shock for Jessica, with all twelve dozen of us there and—”

  “Oh, pish, Tank! Erika’s completely over you breaking her heart. She told me so.”

  Kill me now. Kill me dead right now. This was just the start of it. He’d dated a lot of girls when he was in high school, same as Troy. Now those had a way of coming out of the woodwork Wayne’s World-style when he and Troy came to town. And if they’d gotten wind of the viral #gingerhotties movement?

  “I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, Tank Drummond, and no, you may not bow out of coming home for Thanksgiving. Goodness gracious. You weren’t the only boys any of those girls dated. Get over yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle. “But you’re not shopping for my sweater. I’ll do it. And I’ll let Jessica know.”

  “That’s my sweet boy. Now, I’ve redecorated your old room and found a nice king-sized bed, and it has all new linens, and Bella can sleep in Melody’s old room since she has an apartment in town now. You’ll have to share the upstairs bathroom with Lila and Mark, but at least George and his brood are staying in a hotel this time—“

  “Mom, stop. You don’t need to go to all that trouble for us. It’s only a few hours to get there so we’ll probably…what?”

  His mother chuckled and then sighed. “You’re thinking with your bachelor brain, honey, but you’re traveling with a toddler. I mean I’m assuming you’re all coming in one vehicle, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “You do not want to be in a closed vehicle with a toddler for that many hours all in one day. And you know how you are. It’ll be ten o’clock before you get on the road to head home. You definitely don’t want to do that with a toddler.”

  “I just hate to see you go to trouble for us.”

  “It’s no trouble, and it means I get to spend more time getting to know Jessica and Bella. The rest will make the traveling easier on all of you, and you won’t have to rush off. Besides, it’s what I want. Please?”

  He hadn’t really given it much thought. “I’ll check with Jessica, but I think I remember her saying that the optometrist office would be closed the day after Thanksgiving.”

  “Good. Now…how are things going with my video? All the hubbub die down yet?”

  “Let’s not talk about that and just say we did, Mom.” The friend requests, comments, and viral sharing had continued, and they’d even received e-mails from several romance novel authors who wondered if they’d be open to doing some photo shoots with a fitness model photographer. Evidently #gingerhotties were thin on the ground in the romance novel book cover model business. A mental image of him and Troy dressed like swashbuckling pirates, and posing Fabio-style, had been enough to make him laugh—and turn beet red in the face and ears. He still couldn’t believe anyone would want to see that. Nope.

  “Oh, all right. Your father is doing his best to get my attention, so I’ll let you go for now. But I’ll see you real soon. Bye-bye now, sugar.”

  “See you—wait, real soon?” The line went dead. How soon was real soon? Thanksgiving was still a few weeks off, and this weekend— “Oh shit.”

  “What?” Troy asked as Tank rejoined him outside the stall Jack was currently standing in with Joaquin Martinez, palpating a pregnant mare.

  “That was Mom.”

  “What’s the matter? She okay?”

  “Just peachy. Up to her usual shenanigans. You could’ve given me a heads-up that she was calling about the Christmas sweater.”

  Troy shrugged. “She loves shopping, and she has pretty good taste. I just told her to have at it. That way it’s one less thing I have to shop for or pack.”

  “She’s also putting together a guest room for us so we can stay overnight. Did you know about that?”

  “No. A guest room, like for all of us?”

  Tank hesitated. “I don’t know. She wasn’t specific, but she did say that she got a king-size bed for the room.”

  “But that’s not unusual for a guest bedroom, is it?”

  “I don’t know? Do I look like Martha Stewart?”

  Jack chuckled from within the stall and said, “Your coloring is all wrong. Now shhh, you’re riling up my mare.” After a brief, soft-spoken conversation with Joaquin, Jack slipped out of the stall and said, “Another day or so and we’ll have another foal on the ranch. So you were saying you look like Martha Stewart?”

  “Very funny.”

  “You know I think she has a line of Christmas sweaters that would look just precious on you,” Jack said, laughing softly. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that. I’m done here and want to go check on Grace. We talked about the security situation you’re dealing with right now, but I sense there’s something else on your mind. Want to walk with me?”

  “Sure,” Tank sai
d, glancing at Troy. This was their chance.

  Troy said, “You guessed right, Jack. You and the guys have been involved with Grace the longest of all our friends who are in ménages. I can recall that you had some trouble at one point with an ex of hers. We wondered if there was anything specific you did that helped her to feel secure.”

  Jack paused in the shadows of the barn doorway and removed his hat to rake his fingers through his hair. He didn’t speak at first, and then he said, “That situation was only one of a number of things going on around that time. I think what helped most was giving her a little space of her own, where she could be alone if she wanted, so she’d know we didn’t expect to monopolize all of her time. And when she started writing, we dedicated space in the house to her work, so she knew we valued what she did. Guys, I don’t think you need to worry, if it’s Jessica that’s on your mind. You’re already on the right track with her, not rushing her. Just keep your ears open when she talks to you. You’ll get all the cues you need.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Did you act on that little piece of shopping advice I gave you last time?”

  “Yeah, we did.” He already had his eye on a little custom-made something for her. It might make the bank quake a little, but not break.

  * * * *

  Jessica watched in voyeuristic fascination as two men walked in. Their shoulders filled the doorframe, and they had to duck a little to avoid hitting their heads as they entered. Their gazes focused on the occupant in the kitchen, which was partially separated from the living room by a wall, and blocking the view of the scene unfolding. They were most definitely brothers.

  Jessica sucked in a breath, realizing she was gaping at Luka and Matthias Martinez.

  Charity made a tiny little squeaking sound, and when Jessica looked over, she was laughing at her behind her hand. Then she whispered, “I know, right? They grew a little, huh?”