by Jennie Marts
“Macaroni salad? Any dish with a cup of mayonnaise in it can’t be considered a salad.”
“Oh, Mother,” she said, but it irked her that she’d thought the same thing a few days earlier. What a difference a few days made in forming her opinion of rural Montana. She surprised herself a little when she said, “It’s actually kind of nice here.”
“Well, it’s no New York. And speaking of New York, I saw that snake, Stuart, the other day. He looks good, even though he doesn’t deserve to.”
“Oh yeah?”
“He asked how you were doing. I told him you’re none of his business any longer. Told me to tell you it was all a misunderstanding and that he misses you.”
She was fairly sure she hadn’t misunderstood the pair of red high heels she saw wrapped around her fiancé’s ears when she unexpectedly came home early for lunch one day.
The red heels and the secretary were cliché enough, but the candles burning on the dining room table in the middle of the afternoon were just too much. She didn’t really think about what she was doing when she tipped the candle over onto Stuart’s briefcase. She was actually quite surprised at how quickly it caught fire and spread to the table.
The couple had jumped to their feet, and Stuart pitched forward as he tripped on the pants around his ankles. Charlie had turned and walked out of the apartment, to a chorus of Stuart yelling obscenities and the loud beeping of the apartment smoke alarm going off.
“It’s over between Stuart and me.” This morning, she’d changed into shorts and a tank top before doing her makeup and hair. She wasn’t going to get caught naked again by whoever decided to stop by unannounced.
“I know you can do much better than him. I just wish he wasn’t still so handsome.”
“Yeah, well he thinks he’s pretty good-looking, too. But he doesn’t even compare to some of the hot cowboys I’ve met since I’ve been in Montana.”
“Oh, Charlie. What’s it going to take to make you forget this silly farm idea and come back to New York where you belong?”
Why couldn’t her mother even try to understand? This is where she wanted to be. Tucked Away was the first place that had truly felt like home to her in a long time.
“Look, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She disconnected the call and opened the lower cabinet of the vanity in search of her hairspray.
A small brown furry mouse raced out, ran across her foot, and scurried behind the bathtub. Her eyes widened, and she let loose a scream of terror.
Her scream was followed by a string of curse words as she ran from the bathroom straight into the arms of Zack Cooper.
“Hey, what’s wrong? I heard you scream.” Zack folded her into his arms and hugged her to him.
“I saw something. A mouse. It touched my foot.” Her words were muffled as she spoke into Zack’s chest, her arms wrapped around him, and his shirt clutched in a death-grip in her hands.
“Hold on. Shhh.” He stroked her hair and spoke softly into her ear. “It’s all right. These old houses can have all kinds of critters holed up in them.”
Her body did an involuntary shiver. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
Zack laughed. “No, I guess not. But he was probably more scared of you than you are of him. Besides, aren’t you used to rodents? I heard New York has cockroaches the size of small dogs.”
“Yeah, that’s mostly in the movies.” She took a deep breath and let go of his shirt. “We do have them, of course, but it’s rare when you see one. And I’ve never had one run across my foot.”
He tipped her head back to look into her eyes. “You okay, now?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Sorry.” His arm wrapped around her and his hand in her hair felt so good. Too good.
She pushed back from his embrace.
“I’m okay. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I was just out checking on Marjorie. Thought I would see how it was going with the calf. I was waiting to come in, though. After yesterday. And that whole…naked…thing.” Zack looked at the floor. “But then I heard you scream, and I guess I didn’t care.” He lifted his eyes and looked directly at her. “I thought you were in trouble.”
“Well, I’m fine now,” she said, tearing her eyes away from his gaze. He’d come to save her? He had a nice butt and was brave? Why were all the good ones taken?
“Why don’t I get you something to drink? You still look a little pale.”
She followed him into the kitchen and took a sip from the cup of water he poured for her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure that mouse just surprised you. I can pick up some mouse traps for you, maybe drop them by later.”
“Sure. That would be nice.” Did he just offer to come back later? She looked around the living area. “I guess I’m just not used to being alone in such a big place.”
“You’re not alone. Cash and Buckshot are always around. And there’s not much that can get to you out here. But I can imagine it would take some getting used to. Plus, it’s easy to get spooked in an old house like this. Something is always shifting or groaning.”
A loud thud sounded above their heads. She jumped and let out a little shriek.
“What the heck was that?” He moved to the door leading to the upstairs.
“Oh my gosh, it’s an intruder. Maybe he’s here to rob the place. Should I call the police?” She looked around for the phone and her toilet plunger weapon.
Zack stopped and turned to her, a look of confusion on his face. “The police? Are you kidding? Of course not. I’m here. And who would rob this place? Besides, what would they steal in Gigi’s craft room? Some thread and a needle. Maybe he has a glue gun.” He laughed as he headed for the stairwell, and she heard him mutter, “City-girls.”
She followed close on his heels. Who cared if he made fun of her? She was just happy to have him lead the way up the narrow flight of stairs, and she tried not to grab hold of his shirt for support. She wondered if he could hear the rapid beating of her heart as it pounded against her chest.
The top of the stairs opened into a large, airy room. The walls were painted white, and a large rug covered the hardwood floor. An oak desk sat in one corner of the room, tall bookcases flanking it on either side.
The other corner of the room held a fold-out craft table. A photo album lay open on one end next to a sewing machine with a section of gingham left under the machine’s foot. A folding chair lay on its side on the floor between the craft table and an old dresser, its drawers open and overflowing with fabric and skeins of yarn.
In the middle of the room sat an over-stuffed recliner and a chintz-covered loveseat arranged conversationally around a scarred coffee table. Magazines littered the table, as well as a cross-stitch hoop with a half-finished project pulled tight across it. The room seemed frozen in time, as if waiting for Gigi to walk back in and pick up her sewing project.
She was charmed by the space, realizing it must be a converted attic, and chastised herself for being too spooked to come up here sooner. When she and Sophie had searched the house for kittens, she had cowardly offered to look on the main floor and let the fearless teenager explore the upper level.
“That must be what caused the crash we heard.” Charlie pointed to the folding chair on the floor.
They walked over to the sewing machine, and Zack picked up the overturned chair.
Charlie looked down at the photo album lying open on the table and was overcome with a feeling of warmth and safety.
She gingerly touched the picture on the album page. It was taken in the downstairs bedroom of this house and showed an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair, reading a book. Light streamed in through the window, and the woman wore a serene look on her face. “Is this her? Is this my grandmother?”
He turned the album to get a better look at the picture. “Yep. That’s Geraldine Tucker.”
“That’s Gigi?” Charlie flipped through the book and smiled as she saw several pictures o
f the same woman, out in the barn, sitting on a horse, standing on the bank of a lake with Buckshot holding a recently caught fish.
“Didn’t you know what she looked like? You remind me a little of her. I can see a resemblance around your eyes, and you laugh like her.”
She laughed like her? Like her grandmother? Having had no one but her mother her whole life, this idea of extended family was so foreign to her. And to hear she resembled someone or had the laugh of her grandmother made her happy inside. “This is the first time I’ve seen a picture of her. I mean, there’s one downstairs, but she’s really young.”
She flipped another page and gasped. The page was empty of pictures but had the title “Reserved for photos of my beloved granddaughter, Charlie.” She turned the book to Zack and pointed to the heading. “How could she love me? She didn’t even know me.”
Zack looked from the page to her and grinned, the warmth of his smile reflected in his eyes. “Of course she loved you. You were her family. You were the child of her child. That’s an unbreakable bond.”
Was it? Because it hadn’t seemed to hold Gigi’s child, her father, too tightly. That bond hadn’t been that hard for him to break. Or even to seek out to see if it was worth breaking.
An ominous groan filled the air as the door to the closet on the far wall slowly creaked open. Her heart hammered in her chest as Zack approached the closet door.
He peered inside the closet and let out a loud laugh. “Come ’ere, Charlie. Come and see your intruder.” He held out his hand to her.
She cautiously approached the closet and took Zack’s hand. He pulled her closer so she could see into the closet.
On the floor, amidst a nest of old coats, lay Bonnie, the cat, with three tiny kittens snuggled against her belly.
“Oh my gosh. They’re so cute,” she whispered. “So that’s what a pile of kittens looks like.” She stood frozen in place, enthralled with the perfect picture of sweetness, all thoughts of her deadbeat dad dismissed from her mind.
Zack smiled at her and squeezed her hand. Why was she still holding his hand?
Dropping it, she sank to the floor to get a better view of the mama cat and her babies. “Is it okay if I’m this close to them?”
“Of course.” He laughed. “Would you like to hold one?”
“Oh my goodness. I think so. I’ve never held a kitten before. I don’t want to hurt it.”
“You’re not going to hurt it.” He reached in and pulled a little gray ball of fluff from the heap and passed it to her.
The little kitten squirmed and mewed. She cupped it in her hands and held it close to her chest. “Shh. I got you, little kitty.”
He reached out to pet the kitten’s head and brushed her bare skin, just below her collar bone.
She gasped a quick intake of breath as a zing shot through her skin where his fingers had touched. She had felt a little something the night before when Cash’s hand had skimmed her leg.
This was different. This felt almost electric, and she fought to contain the shiver that wanted to take her. What was it about this man? If she was just looking for some fun or some validation of her own sexiness, Cash had made it very clear that he was free and available to supply any need she could think of.
And she could think of some needs she was feeling right now. But they were needs that were begging to be satisfied by this sandy-haired man with the emerald green iris-ringed eyes.
She looked up from the kitten and was sure that she saw desire in those eyes now.
“It’s good for them to be held and touched. It socializes them.” He sat on the floor across from her and took another squirming kitten from the pile. He held it close to his stomach and stroked its head. “I’ve read a couple of your books, you know.”
Whoa. Where did this come from? “You have? Why?”
“Why not? They’re good books. Half the town was reading them and talking about ’em.”
“Again, why?”
“Because you’re Gigi’s grandbaby, and you’re an author. Reading your books was like touching you, learning about you.”
Was that why he read them? To learn about her? And why did he keep saying the word “touch”? And why did it make her feel so tingly every time he said it?
“Once Gigi found you, she talked about you all the time. She had all your books and probably read them three times each. She was really proud of you.”
Another feeling passed through her, but this one was warmth and affection for a woman she wished she could have met.
“You must be really disciplined.”
“Not really. Something just takes over me when I’m in the writing zone. Normally, I am a huge procrastinator. The clutter in my apartment takes over when I’m writing and threatens to crowd me out the front door. I have terrible restraint. I can’t stay on a diet longer than a week, and I don’t even have enough self-discipline to floss every day.” She stopped when she realized she was rambling. “So, what did you think? Of the books, I mean?”
“I liked them. They have your sarcastic humor in them. And I liked your heroines. They were each these brave gals who didn’t back down and didn’t take crap from anyone. Now that I’ve met you, I can totally see you in your heroines.”
“What? Me, brave? Not even. I’ve had baby cats in my house go undiscovered for several days because I was too spooked to go up a dark hallway of stairs. I’m not brave at all.”
“Well, the way I see it, it takes a pretty brave woman to pack up a car, leave a city she’s spent her whole life in, and travel all the way across the country to start a new one. And, just the other night, I watched you race out of the barn in your nightgown and cowboy boots to help save a baby cow. Which, by the way, wearing hot pink cowboy boots takes a certain kind of bravery in itself.”
She grinned. “Bad fashion choices do not equal bravery.”
“It was more than the boots. You were willing to help. You barely flinched when I placed a bloody calf in your lap.”
“I was just running on instinct.”
“I don’t think so. A lot of people’s instinct would be to run or hide. And I’ve seen you throw yourself into trying to learn what this farm is about. Learning to take care of and feed that bucket calf yourself instead of letting someone else do it.”
“I like that little calf, and I feel like I owe it to Gigi to get to know her farm.”
“Well, it’s your farm now. And Gigi would be proud of you. You gave up your life and traveled across the country to start a new one. You’re completely out of your element, yet you keep trying. You haven’t given up and run back to the comfort of the city yet. That’s brave, in my book.”
She had never seen herself as brave. In truth, she tended to give her heroines characteristics that she wished she had.
Hearing Zack say it aloud gave it almost a tangible power that Charlie could feel and hold and suddenly, she felt braver. Like maybe she could make this farm thing work after all. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.” Zack put the kitten back and nuzzled the mother cat under the chin. He ran his hands along her body in a quick checkup. “Mama cat looks good, and the kittens look to be in great shape. Speaking of which, I probably have a few more animals waiting for my attention at the clinic. I should probably get on to work. You gonna be okay here?” He stood and looked down at her.
“Sure. I think I’m going to stay and play with this one a few more minutes, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. Like I said, it’s good for them to be socialized. Just put it back up next to its mom there, when you’re done.” He reached out as if to shake her hand then awkwardly stuffed his hand in his pocket. A tinge of red crept up his face, and his next words came out a little faster than normal. “You can start thinking up names for them. Gigi named every animal on this farm.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. See ya,” she called to his back as he headed down the stairs. Did he really just try to shake her hand, like they had just transacte
d a business deal? Maybe she was crazy and she was mistaking desire for a feeling she wished she saw there.
How could she fault him if he was just a genuinely nice person who was treating her with kindness? Was she so unused to this type of treatment that she was confusing it with flirting or attraction? But he did seem to get embarrassed and awkward after he fumbled the handshake, so maybe she did fluster him a little.
Men. Who could figure them out? Kittens were much easier. Putting the maddening subject out of her mind, she focused on the fluff-ball in her lap.
After cuddling the kitten for another five minutes, she gently placed it back against its mother’s side.
She stroked Bonnie’s head as she studied the three kittens. The one she’d been holding was gray, Zack had been holding the little black one, and the last was a mixture of white and gray stripes. She had no idea what to name them, but she knew the creative streak in Sophie would never be happy with plain names like Blacky, Stripey, and Gray. She was a writer, for goodness’ sake. Surely she could come up with something more original than colors or Larry, Moe, and Curly.
She left the door at the bottom of the stairs open. Crossing the room, she noticed a stethoscope lying on the kitchen counter.
Zack must have left it there when he was waiting for her this morning, then forgot about it.
Hmmm. Maybe she would need to drive into town for some lunch today. Check out the diner and maybe swing by the vet clinic to drop the stethoscope off.
It would be the only neighborly thing to do, and she was determined to be a good neighbor.
…
The smell of grease and grilled meat met her as Charlie pushed through the door of the diner. Comparing it to the café she and Sophie had gone to her first day here, this restaurant met more of the stereotype of a greasy spoon than its counterpart down the street. The lunch crowd of the diner consisted more of farmers and elderly couples. Several conversations stopped as she stepped up to the red counter running the length of the diner.
A curvaceous red-haired woman in a snug-fitting, short pink dress stood behind the counter. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and she flashed Charlie a friendly smile, her teeth dazzling white against vivid red lipstick. “C’mon in,” she said, and the welcome in her voice matched her grin. Thick-soled white tennis shoes adorned her feet, and her legs were shapely and toned, most likely from hours spent racing around the diner.