by Reece Butler
Marci drove slowly into the yard. To the right was a beautiful old log cabin. A trio of dogs came rushing out to greet her but thankfully didn’t bark, perhaps as they recognized the truck. She turned the ignition off right next to a much older light-blue truck, making sure the passenger doors were close. She opened her door and the sound of a crying baby floated from the home.
“Aw, poor Sophie’s still upset?” Simon, sounding sympathetic rather than annoyed, hauled himself mostly upright. “Donny must be going crazy. Little mite’s barely six weeks old.”
The front porch light came on and a man stepped out. His face looked grim, likely due to the crying baby over his shoulder. Marci couldn’t stop herself. She hurried toward the pair.
“Give me Sophie, please.” She held up her hands. “Doctor Meshevski sent me.”
“Oh. Great. Here.” Donny held out the wee one. Her face was all screwed up and red. “None of the other babies were like this,” he said in confusion. “She’s fed, clean, burped, but I can’t get her to stop crying.”
“Where’s Sophie’s mommy?”
“Sleeping with Keith,” he said absently. “Tonight’s my turn to stay up.”
He looked exhausted and worried. She nodded, pretending she was a nurse sent by the doctor. The poor man was so relieved that he hadn’t thought to ask how a doctor in town would know to send help.
“Oh, you poor baby,” she crooned.
She put Sophie over her shoulder and, gently patting her back, walked with a bouncing motion to the end of the porch. The tiny baby fit into the curve of her neck as if she belonged there. Tears slid out the corner of her eyes as she inhaled that longed-for baby scent.
It could have been worse. Instead of Ted having a vasectomy, he could have insisted she get her tubes tied. Now that she was a widow she could have a little one of her own. She wiped away happy tears. If babies were contagious she would be first in line to get infected. Her soothing touch had calmed Sophie enough that the baby had quieted to whimpers. Marci continued with the pats and bounces. She giggled when a huge burp erupted from the rosebud mouth. Sophie sighed and snuggled closer, though she still had a few hiccups.
Pleased at her progress, Marci looked around as she walked. Worn wicker and bentwood chairs covered with bright cushions suggested the porch was well used. She hummed as she walked. It was a lullaby the woman in the next trailer had sung to her own baby the summer Marci was nine. She’d babysat a bit while the lady went grocery shopping and in return she’d taught Marci how to cook. But, like everyone else in her life except Nikki, she’d soon moved on.
Donny had noticed Simon struggling out of the passenger seat and had ambled over.
“What are you doing with Aggie’s new truck?” asked Donny. “You so ashamed of your old rattletrap that you had to take hers into town to get that nurse for us?”
“No,” replied Simon sarcastically, “I drove into town in your truck because it’s an automatic and I broke my damn leg. Hand me those crutches.”
Donny looked down. He shook his head. “You can’t drive with that cast.”
“Why do you think I took yours?” He grimaced. “Marci’s driving.”
Even from the porch Marci could hear his growl of irritation. “That nasty man won’t get near you, sugarpie,” she crooned. “No he won’t! You’re just the sweetest little girl, aren’t you?”
She loved babies. Loved talking to them in a high-pitched voice that made them calm down. The nice lady had passed on what a good babysitter she was and that was how she’d gotten pocket money for years. Not to buy candy, but to buy clothes, shoes, and school supplies. No matter how many hours her mother worked, there was never enough money.
Sophie’s hiccups had faded by the time Simon was in his own truck. Marci kept walking, back and forth. With Sophie’s parents so wound up at her pain, no wonder they couldn’t get the baby to relax.
“How’d the Doc know to send a nurse back with you?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Donny frowning at her while he talked to Simon. She pretended she was oblivious.
“Marci’s not a nurse,” growled Simon. “She’s my babysitter, housekeeper, and jailor.”
Chapter Seven
“I can see you needing a babysitter and housekeeper,” said Donny with a grin, “but a jailor?”
“What else do you call it when the dang doctor won’t let me go home without her?”
Simon didn’t bother to keep his voice down since Marci already knew he wanted to go home alone and take care of himself. He didn’t like being idle. It allowed too many thoughts, regrets, and might-have-beens to crowd in.
“She’s no bigger than a minute,” said Donny. “All you gotta do is pick her up. She could squeal all she liked but she couldn’t get away. How could she be a problem?”
“She’s female.” He pointed with his chin toward the porch. “A baby’s even smaller, but look how Sophie’s changed your life. Small doesn’t mean powerless.” He ran his hand over his smooth chin. The Doc had insisted he be shaved before leaving. “I think Marci’s like one of those little dogs that strut around as if they own the world. They have no clue of their size, or else they don’t care. But they rule the household.” He tried to shift his leg but the plaster was too heavy so he shifted his body instead. “Never did like those yappers.”
Donny, who’d been watching Marci with a keen eye, shifted his attention back to Simon. “She doesn’t strike me as the yapper type.”
“Maybe not, but she likes to have the last word.”
His cousin raised a sardonic eyebrow. “She’s a woman.”
They shared a headshake and sigh, though Donny’s came with a fond smile.
Simon had watched his good pals Donny and Keith change when Aggie came into their lives. They were still wild now and then, but their priorities had shifted. Aggie hadn’t softened them. Instead she’d honed their edges and made them better men. Unlike elsewhere, males in Tanner’s Ford knew that changing diapers and soothing a baby proved they were men. Anyone could watch sports, stuff their face, burp, and take out the garbage once a week. It took a real man to protect and provide for his family.
He and Lance had pretty much given up on that family. Seeing Marci go for Sophie, who he realized was a lot calmer now, gave him hope.
“Been a long time since there’s been an available woman in these parts,” he mused.
“What about that new doctor?” joked Donny. “Bet she’d keep you warm at night. Mind you, she’s a good size. She might take over the bed.” Donny elbowed him. “Can you see her in a tight black leather miniskirt, stiletto boots, and a flogger?”
Simon’s jaw dropped. He narrowed his eyes at Donny. “Don’t tell me Aggie does that to your ugly white ass?”
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Turnabout’s fair play.” He snickered. “I like to take care of Aggie. And when she gets too uppity, Keith brings her down a few notches. What with the baby and all, it’s been a while since she’s felt the flat of his hand.”
Now that Simon thought about it, Donny did spend more time caring for Aggie and the children than Keith did. At get-togethers it was Donny who brought her drink and filled her plate while Keith rough-housed with the boys. Keith and Lance had always got along as best friends and rivals, as had he and Donny. It didn’t matter to Simon if Donny wanted to have his bare ass flogged by Aggie, who’d then be topped by Keith. Both were good men and he’d take either at his back anytime.
Marci wouldn’t be doing it to him, though. Nor would she be wearing black leather. A red stretch lace bodysuit with appropriate cutouts would be closer to it. He took another look at her. No, with her dusky skin a light pink would be better. To match her pussy lips, perhaps.
“I could see the Doc dressed in black leather,” he said. “It would look good with her blonde hair. And she’s got the attitude to wield a whip.”
“You might be surprised who’d holds the reins with her,” said Donny quietly. “Strong women often like to
be submissive now and then.” He cleared his throat and nodded with his chin toward the porch. “Where’d you find the lady?”
Marci held her cheek against Sophie’s head as she walked. She swung her upper body to soothe the baby. It brought attention to one very nice ass. He adjusted the coat in his lap. Donny noticed and laughed, though he kept his voice low.
“Doc brought her in from somewhere,” said Simon. “She lost her home so needs a place to stay for a couple weeks. She’s not from around here.”
Donny winced. “Dang, I told her Aggie was sleeping with Keith. You think she knows about us ranchers sharing a wife?” Donny exhaled and answered his own question. “Guess it doesn’t matter. She’ll get used to it or have a hissy fit and leave.”
“Maybe she’ll enjoy it.” The words slipped out before he thought. It must be the aftereffects of those painkillers they shot him with.
Donny gave him a calculating look, but changed subject. “What happened to her home? Bank foreclosed on her?”
“Nope. It burned to the ground with everything in it. I figure she’ll move on in a bit.” He was going to say “once her face heals” but wasn’t going to bring attention to it.
“Dang, that’s tough, to lose your home.” Donny inhaled deeply. “You sure she’ll move on? We’re still hoping you and Lance will find yourself a wife. You guys both love kids. Sure be a waste if you two never had any of your own.” He tilted his head toward the porch. “That woman’s got a way with babies. Went for Sophie right off. Dang near pulled her out of my arms and already she’s got my princess sleeping. That’s the type of wife you want.” He snickered. “And I saw you checking her ass.”
It wasn’t just Marci’s butt that Simon had checked out. She was pretty, though she could use a bit more weight to round out her curves. Her jeans snuggled a tight little ass that he wouldn’t mind kissing for an hour or two. How the hell was he going to have her around and not be hard all the time?
“She must be half my age,” grumbled Simon. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with an old rancher like me. And look at what she’s wearing on her feet. Tennis shoes when she should have boots. Totally impractical for a ranch.” He shook his head. “Nah, she won’t last.” He shifted on the seat. “Plus she’s pretty, and from a big city out East. You know that type of woman can’t be trusted.”
Marci stepped off the porch, heading for them. Donny straightened up as soon as he noticed her. A tender smile appeared.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this, ma’am,” he said quietly. “I’d better put my princess to bed. I don’t know what you did, but you can visit anytime you like.” He held out huge hands. “Come to Daddy, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you let me try to put her down,” said Marci.
Donny raised his eyebrows in question. “You sure?” He looked relieved when she nodded. “We’ve got an appointment at the clinic tomorrow for her six-week checkup. Might find out what’s bothering her then.”
“Who’s taking the other three?” asked Simon. He didn’t like being kept out of their discussion. And he didn’t like that Donny knew it.
“The cousins are busy and Keith can’t take them along to fix that well pump. Me and Aggie will just have to bring them all to the clinic.” He turned to Marci. “Florrie’s not much trouble since she’s almost six. But the boys are two and not quite four. They don’t like sitting still.”
“They’ll sit all day on a horse if you go fast enough,” corrected Simon.
“Why don’t you bring them over? I can take care of them.” Marci turned to Simon. “Unless Mr. Crankypants has an objection?”
“Who’re you calling—”
“Shh!” said Donny and Marci and the same time. Simon snapped his mouth shut.
“I’ve never been to Mr. MacDougal’s home,” she added hesitantly. “Perhaps the cabin isn’t safe for children.”
“Cabin’s fine,” snapped Simon. “Lance and I have them over all the time.” Having three loud children for a few hours would distract him from the sexy woman standing too near who smelled of vanilla, chocolate, and peppermint. He bet if he got real close to her he’d smell something even sweeter.
“Come on in. We’ll see if your magic touch can get my little princess to sleep.”
“Whoa,” said Simon. “Don’t leave before I kiss Sophie good-night.”
Instead of disturbing the sleeping baby, Simon ran the back of his bent finger against her soft, rounded cheek. He might grouch about them, pretending to be a crotchety old bachelor, but he felt every child was a miracle. The grouchiness was because he always had to give them back.
He waited impatiently in the truck. The plaster covering his leg was heavy and damp, which meant it was cold. He could ignore that but the memory of the brownies he’d left in Donny’s truck drove him wild. He couldn’t maneuver the crutches and carry the tin at the same time. He sure wasn’t going to ask Donny to fetch it because it would be gone like snow in a spring rain.
He sat up when she came out, but she ignored him and headed to the other truck. She reached in and took out the tin. But instead of heading his way, she went back into the house. He couldn’t yell as he might wake Sophie again.
She damn near skipped as she crossed the dirt yard toward him.
“You didn’t have to give them my brownies,” he complained as soon as she creaked open the driver’s door.
She glared up at him. “They were my brownies, Mr. Crankypants. I can give them to anyone I want.”
He grumbled and looked out the side window to hide a grin. He liked a woman that gave as good as she got. She climbed in and closed the door. It was old and heavy, so she had to do it again, this time with more force. He winced. This truck had shared a good chunk of his life. They understood each other. No one other than Lance had driven her and Simon had never sat in the passenger seat before. If anyone saw him letting a woman drive, he’d be the laughingstock of Climax.
But she was a city gal, so did she even know how to drive—
“Oh, my,” she suddenly gasped. “There’s three pedals but I only have two feet. And what’s this thing?” She curled her fingers around the floor-mounted gear shift and rattled it.
His horror mounted. “Oh, hell, of course you can’t drive a stick. We have to take Donny’s truck.”
“Don’t worry,” she said a bit too enthusiastically,” I’ll figure it out.” She stuck the key in, jammed her feet on the brake and clutch, and turned the key. He reached to stop her but his cast got in the way.
“No! Don’t—”
The truck started easily. She shifted into first gear, smooth as silk. Then she made a tight circle and headed back to the road.
Son of a bitch! She’d known all along that he would freak at the thought of her grinding his gears. She’d pulled him in, hook, line, and sinker. He had to admire her for doing it even if it burned his britches.
“You can drive a stick.”
“Yep.” She smoothly changed gears again. “Turns out ovaries work just as good as balls when you’re in the driver’s seat.”
He covered his mouth and coughed to hide his laugh. She’d got him, and good. Yeah, she was one of those miniature fluffy dogs with sharp teeth. Boss of her world.
“Where’d you learn?”
She shrugged off his question.
“What else about you might surprise me?”
Her top teeth worried at her full bottom lip. He had a sudden urge to kiss it better.
“Why?”
“Why am I asking you questions?” She nodded. “Because I’m interested in the woman who’s going to be living in my home. Because my leg hurts and talking with you takes my mind off it. And because you’re half asleep, and if you’re talking, I’ll know you won’t drive into the ditch.” He gave her a moment before continuing. “So, tell me about your hobbies.”
“I like to fix up broken stuff.”
She said it quickly, as if she was ashamed. That intrigued him as much as her hobby. “
Tell me more.”
“I find old things that nobody wants, and I, well, make them useful again.”
“Give me an example.”
She flashed him a glance. He nodded encouragingly. She cleared her throat.
“I found this old lamp. It had an ugly, broken shade and it didn’t work. But it was made of mahogany and was six feet high. I got it for a couple dollars, refinished the wood, rewired it, and made a new shade that suited it. I took something nobody wanted and gave it a new life.”
“Did you keep it, or sell it for a great profit?”
She shot him a look. “Oh, I couldn’t keep it! I gave it away.”
“Why couldn’t you keep it?”
She cleared her throat. “My husband only liked new things. He said anything that was flawed was worthless.”
He chewed on the thought for a moment. “You being one of them?”
Her jaw tightened, then she gave a sharp nod.
As far as he was concerned, Marci would’ve been perfect before the scar. But perfect was boring as there couldn’t be any improvement. Change, and flaws, made life interesting. Challenging, but interesting.
“What else do you do? Other than make delicious brownies.” He looked at her trim body. “You obviously don’t eat everything you cook.”
“I like baking but my husband didn’t like sweets. So I gave everything away.”
That was interesting. Not only that she obeyed her husband, but that she found a way to do what she wanted while still following his dictates.
“Who’d you give it to?”
“Bake sales, the seniors’ center, soup kitchens. People who needed to raise money. I also enjoy sewing.” She gave him another quick glance. “You wouldn’t believe how much people like fancy aprons and nightgowns!”