by Mia Ross
Her tone made it clear that she disapproved, and he asked, “The legit kind?”
In response, she held her hand out and rocked it from side to side. “Even after we were married, I didn’t know much about his business. Let’s just say I heard him discussing things I wasn’t thrilled about.”
“If he’s so successful, how is it you and the kids ended up with nothing?”
“His brother’s a lawyer, and he drew up a prenup to ‘protect Peter’s business.’” Grimacing, she air-quoted the last few words. “It was standard, he said, so I took him at his word and signed it.”
“Nice,” Ridge growled. The Weston brothers had swindled Marianne and her children out of what should have rightly been theirs. “But there must be a child-support order or something.”
“There is, but he won’t pay it. I went to a lawyer in Charlotte, but his fee was outrageous, and he said I’d have to take Peter to court to make him comply.” Her chin trembled, and a mist came into her eyes. “I just couldn’t face all that, so I let it go.”
She looked completely miserable, and Ridge wished he could ease her pain somehow. The man she’d loved had betrayed her and his own children in the worst possible way. “I think I see why it’s so hard for you to trust me.”
Marianne’s stunned expression told him he’d nailed that one on the head. Sighing, she looked away without saying anything. Fortunately, Emily chose that moment to get all artistic on him.
“Ridge, can you draw an airplane in the sky? Right there, flying over that hill.”
“Sure, sweetness.”
“Blue and yellow,” she clarified. “Like Betsy.”
Her total lack of interest in what he and Marianne were saying made him grin. “I’m no Rembrandt, but I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you very much.”
“No problem.”
He chanced a look at Marianne, but she was focused on the flowers she was adding to the garden. Taking that as a hint to let the matter drop, he got to work on Emily’s biplane. After several minutes, Marianne said his name. When he glanced up, she looked hesitant but forged ahead.
“I want to trust you,” she confided. “It’s hard.”
Smiling reassurance, he nodded. “Yeah, it is. I’m doing my best to earn it, though.”
Her sweet, shy smile gave him a glimpse of the girl she must have been once, before Peter’s arrogance tore her apart.
“When we met,” she began, “I thought there was no way I could ever like you. Tolerate you, maybe, but that was it.”
“Yeah, sometimes I have that effect on people. They see the way I live and think I’m irresponsible. If they give me a chance to prove myself, they find out I’m as solid as they come.”
He’d seen those incredibly blue eyes as cool as ice and blazing with fury. But as she studied him now, they shifted to a color he’d never seen. Like cornflowers, with a hint of purple. He wondered which emotion that particular hue was connected to.
“I really shouldn’t like you,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s nothing keeping you rooted to the ground.”
“That’s not entirely true,” he heard himself saying. “I just need a good reason to stay.”
In a startling flash he realized that Marianne, Kyle and Emily could keep him very happily grounded in Harland for the rest of his life.
The idea unnerved him, and Ridge pushed it away in self-defense. Even being married hadn’t tamed his wanderlust, something he was still ashamed of. A year into their marriage, his wife had been miserable being alone while he flew all over the world. She’d begged him to quit the airline, or at least find a position that would keep him closer to home with her. In an attempt to make her happy, he’d switched to business shuttle runs back and forth among a handful of nearby cities. In a month, he was bored out of his skull and resumed his old schedule.
Six months later she was gone. Through a wash of tears she told him she loved him but couldn’t keep waiting for him to come back, only to leave her again. It was his own fault, and Ridge had no intention of repeating that hurtful mistake. His failed marriage had taught him he wasn’t the settling-down kind, and he couldn’t drag a family from one state to the next. It might sound like a great adventure at first, but kids needed structure and school, a place to call home.
Ridge couldn’t offer them anything but himself.
“Like lots of crayons.” To cover his sudden discomfort, he started pawing through the box. Plucking one out, he read the name. “Blueberry. That’ll work.”
Now it was him avoiding Marianne’s gaze. While he filled in the plane’s fuselage, he hoped she’d just figure he was a complete loon.
Fortunately for everyone, Kyle returned much calmer than when he’d left. He came through the door and leaned down to rest his forehead on his mother’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She reached an arm around him for a quick squeeze. “I know it’s hard. Want something to drink?”
Nodding, he flopped onto the bench next to Ridge. “Fruit punch is fine.”
“Coming up.”
Giving him an encouraging smile, she got a glass and filled it with ice before adding some of the punch the kids seemed to drink by the gallon. She even stuck a lemon slice on the side before setting it in front of him.
The woman was amazing, Ridge thought with honest admiration. Nothing rattled her for long. Her quiet strength reminded him of his own mother, taking what life gave her and beating it down to make the road smoother for him.
Comparing Marianne to his mother was probably dangerous, so he cleared the unexpected thought from his mind.
“So, your dad’s coming,” he commented to neither kid in particular. “Pete, right?”
“Peter,” Marianne corrected him primly, her lips pressed together. “He hates being called Pete.”
“Is that right?” Hoping to lighten the mood, Ridge grinned. “I’ll have to remember that.”
She gave him a sharp look, but any response she might have made was lost in a throaty growl from the back porch. Through the door, Ridge saw Tucker lift his head, ears perked. When another growl came clearly through the screen, he couldn’t help chuckling. “We’ve got company.”
Too late, he realized how that must have sounded. Since he didn’t technically live here, he should have said “You’ve got company.” Nobody corrected him, though, which made him wonder if they all considered him part of the Sawyer gang. Part of him liked the idea of belonging here, having a place to call home. The restless part of him wasn’t so sure.
While he was debating, a silver Jag convertible floated down the lane. The Sawyers’ cars were next to the barn, but Peter ignored the obvious parking area and stopped right in front of the house blocking the lane. That was how city folks parked, Ridge thought with disdain. They didn’t want to have to walk too far. The well-dressed man he’d seen at the diner stepped from the car and started toward the house.
Tucker leaped to his feet, hackles bristling while he barked a warning. Peter stopped in his tracks, clearly intimidated by the protective Lab. Tucker planted his front feet squarely on the top porch step, continuing to grumble like an angry wolf.
Distracted by the dog, it took Ridge a couple of seconds to register Marianne’s reaction. Firming her chin, she pushed off from the table and stood like someone who’d been summoned for her own execution. He recognized it from the way his mother used to react when his father got home.
“I’m right here, Marianne,” he said quietly to avoid upsetting Emily. “I won’t let him hurt any of you.”
Marianne gave him a long, confused look, then shook her head. “It wasn’t like that.”
“There are lots of ways to abuse somebody,” he murmured. “It’s just that some of them don’t leave any marks.”
The fear in her eyes told him he
’d hit the mark, but Ridge let it go. Mom used to make up the same kind of excuses, trying to shield him from the brutal truth that had taken over their lives. Now Marianne was doing the same, to protect her own kids. It was the mother’s instinct coming through, and he admired it more than he could ever say.
But if things with Peter got out of hand, Ridge would see it. And he was ready.
With a resigned sigh, Marianne opened the door to go out on the porch. “Good boy.” She patted the Lab’s head and smoothed her hand over the fur spiking up on his back. “Down, Tucker.”
The dog wouldn’t sit, but he did shift to the side so she could go down the steps. Alert for trouble, he finally sat but never took his eyes off their visitor. Ridge heard a quiet rumble of displeasure, as if Tucker were muttering to himself about how crazy she was to let this fancy stranger anywhere near her family. Ridge heartily agreed with him.
After a quick exchange, Peter followed Marianne up the steps, keeping a wary eye on the dog. Once he was inside, Tucker planted himself in front of the screen door. Apparently, he intended to stay right there until the man left.
Peter stood awkwardly at the door, sending Kyle a tentative smile. “Hello, Kyle.”
To his credit, the boy looked him dead in the eyes. No frown, no smile, no hint of how furious he’d been earlier. “Hey.”
Shifting his weight on shoes that probably cost more than Ridge made in three months, Peter cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time. Do you know who I am?”
“Sure. You’re the reason I get to grow up in this awesome place.”
The blow landed, and Ridge thought Peter might have actually taken a step back. He regained his composure quickly, though, and turned to Emily. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Angelic blue eyes tilted up to study him, and she cocked her head. “My mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”
Marianne managed to take that one with a completely straight face, and Ridge was amazed. Hoping to help out a little, he stood and offered his hand. “Ridge Collins.”
Unsmiling, Peter accepted the gesture. “Peter Weston.”
“Nice to meet you, Pete.”
Ridge kept his expression neutral, but he couldn’t miss Marianne’s quick grin. He didn’t know why, but he loved to make this very serious woman smile.
“It’s Peter,” the man corrected him stiffly.
“Right. My bad.”
“Can I ask what you’re doing here?”
Peter cast a quick look at Kyle, and his unspoken message was clear. What are you doing here with my son?
But Kyle wasn’t his—not even close—and Ridge’s temper began to simmer. How dare this smooth-talking phony stroll into Marianne’s kitchen and brush her aside? How dare he connect with his son and all but ignore his daughter? And then question the guy who’d been hanging out with them, playing games, helping with the team?
This suit had some serious nerve.
Ridge would like nothing more than to dress Peter Weston down, but it wasn’t his place. “I’m a friend of Matt’s, helping out with the farm. And you?”
The shocked look on Peter’s tanning-booth face made Ridge want to laugh, but he managed to make it a smile instead.
“I’m here to see Kyle,” Peter informed him coolly.
Not Emily, Ridge filled in easily enough. What was up with that? He wondered if Marianne knew. For now, he folded his arms, and they stared at each other for several seconds. He was dying to challenge Peter, but he knew it wouldn’t go over well with Marianne. So he finally just nodded and sat down. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, backing down from this pompous piece of work.
“You and Kyle can visit outside, if you want,” Marianne offered.
Peter cast a nervous look at the dog framed in the screen door. “No, that’s all right. The living room is fine. Would you like to join us, Emily?” he added, clearly an afterthought.
Tipping her head to assess her evolving picture, she didn’t look at him, but very politely said, “No, thank you.”
Ridge barely managed to strangle a laugh into a cough, and he swallowed some of Kyle’s drink, hoping to make it look like he had something caught in his throat. He knew he wasn’t fooling anybody, though, and Kyle grinned over at him before following his father into the living room.
Marianne, however, wasn’t amused. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded, slapping him with a dish towel. “Are you twelve?”
“It was funny. Sue me.” Grinning over at Emily, he winked. “Nice one, sweetness.”
“Thank you. I don’t like him,” she added, wrinkling her cute button nose in distaste. “He’s too fancy.”
Ridge glanced through the arched doorway to find Peter on the couch and Kyle sitting in a wingback chair on the other side of the living room. Apparently, Kyle shared his sister’s opinion of their long-absent father.
Ridge turned slightly toward Marianne so he could whisper, “What’s his problem with Emily?”
Marianne shrugged. “She’s a girl.”
“That’s nuts.”
“I know, but that’s how it is.” She sighed. “I wonder what he’s up to.”
“What makes you say that?”
“In all the time we’ve been here, he’s only called Kyle a few times. I don’t even know if he’s still living in Chicago, and he’s never asked to come see us. Why would he pick now?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, but the barely disguised fear in Marianne’s voice made his hackles go up like Tucker’s. Reaching over, Ridge covered her hand with his and gave a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t in this alone, that he’d gladly step into that fight with her if she wanted him to. But knowing how deep her independent streak went, he suspected that any offer of help would only make her angry.
“Whatever it is,” he said confidently, “you’ll handle it.”
Flashing him a quick smile, she slid her hand away. “Would you like some of that cherry pie?”
“Please.”
As she got up, the worry lingering in her eyes made his gut twist with uncertainty. Unable to resist spying, Ridge looked into the living room again. Peter seemed to be doing most of the talking, trying to draw a very distrustful kid into some kind of conversation. Marianne’s suspicions echoed in his mind, and right there he made a decision.
If Peter even hinted at making trouble for Marianne or her kids, he’d have to go through Ridge to do it.
Chapter Seven
After an hour that felt like forever, Peter finally said goodbye to Kyle and stood up. Marianne had been trying to give them some privacy, but they weren’t that far away, and it was obvious the conversation was mostly one-sided. While she didn’t wish for trouble between father and son, she had to be honest with herself. Watching Kyle give Peter the silent treatment told her she’d been right to bring her children home to Harland.
As Peter strolled toward the kitchen, she began clicking through the screens of her new online lesson. She’d already finished reading it, but she wanted to make it look as if she’d been busy with schoolwork instead of trying not to eavesdrop.
“He hates me.” A baffled look creased Peter’s perfectly chiseled features. “I don’t understand it.”
“You call twice a year and we have no idea where you live,” Marianne reminded him without looking up from the monitor. “He doesn’t even know you.” Feeling brave, she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes. “I warned you.”
She felt a little nudge on her ankle, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Ridge’s mouth quirk approvingly. He was making a good show of building a log cabin and pony stable with Emily, but Marianne still caught the twinkle in his hazel eyes. It made her feel like a championship fighter who’d landed a solid punch on her opponent.
“I don’t
want it to be this way,” Peter continued.
Clearly, he assumed she cared. She longed to tell him the truth but held back. If she started a fight with him, it would upset the kids. Besides, he was much meaner than she was. If she mounted a direct assault, he’d probably slaughter her.
“You can’t just walk back into his life and expect him to accept you.” The fact that he’d still barely glanced at his daughter broke Marianne’s heart, but that was another problem. In all honesty, Emily was better off in her blissful little bubble.
“I need to get to know him, let him get to know me,” Peter said, as though that was a novel idea.
For five years Marianne had been dreading the day he strolled back into their lives. Instinctively she’d known it would happen at some point. She prayed that Kyle was strong enough to handle it.
Even though she knew where this was headed, she asked, “What do you want?”
“The visits the judge gave me in court.”
What about the child support he gave us? she wanted to snarl. But she didn’t dare get into a serious legal argument with him. If she decided to go down that road, she’d have to think very carefully about how rough the trip would be. She’d end up with some much-needed funds, but at what cost?
Now that they were old enough to be consulted, a judge would want to talk to Kyle and Emily, get their input about seeing Peter. Marianne suspected that their comments about this stranger who happened to be their father wouldn’t be flattering. In all likelihood, Peter’s shark of a lawyer would spin that to make it Marianne’s fault, and she’d have to prove otherwise. The fact that the shark was his brother meant Peter could fight her in court forever free of charge, while she went bankrupt paying someone to represent her and the kids. Just the thought of it horrified her.
Putting aside her misgivings in the interest of keeping the peace, she offered, “You can visit with him here, as long as I’m home.”
Her ex-husband’s mouth dropped open, his dark eyes snapping with the temper she knew was always coursing just beneath his debonair façade. “That’s ridiculous.”