The Rancher's Proposal (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 3)

by Paula Altenburg

  “I’m a corporate accountant.”

  “I would never have guessed that.” Perhaps he was teasing. She couldn’t always tell with him.

  “I’m more than good looks. I have a brain, too. I worked for a company in Helena until…” He checked the rearview mirror. They had young children with them who might be listening, even if they didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the adults. “Jake needed a hand with the ranch.”

  “Will you go back to Helena?”

  “No. And now I get to ask two questions because you stole my turn. What did you do before you came to Grand and why did you choose to come here?”

  She should say she’d been a stay-at-home mom and leave it at that. “I was a preschool teacher. I majored in early childhood education. And I came to Grand because Eleanor suggested it. She’s an old family friend.”

  The tires hummed on the road, eating up miles. It was a Sunday morning so traffic was light. They’d crossed the Yellowstone River, and now, it flew past on their left.

  “Your ex-husband is such an asshole,” he muttered under his breath, so low that the children couldn’t hear him, but she did just fine. Whether or not he meant for her to, she couldn’t say.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked. He was right of course, although she wouldn’t have worded it quite the same way, but what made him sound so certain of it?

  “Because you were an only child with an older dad who didn’t have time for you, and yet, you turned around and studied early childhood education. You planned on having a big family, didn’t you? Of course you did,” he answered for her, confident in the conclusions he’d drawn. “You wanted what you missed out on. And anyone can see what a great mother you are. Therefore, it’s his fault he’s an ex, not yours. Whatever he did to bust up your marriage, it forced you to move across the country to get away from him. That makes him an asshole.”

  Up until now, Posey had never seen it that way. Her uncle had told her she should have been more cautious. So had her cousins and the few friends she’d confided in. Even Eleanor, who she loved, had tsked and told her she was too naïve for her own good. She’d certainly blamed herself. She probably always would, because yes, she should have known better. She should have protected her daughter.

  But without having any more information than the little she’d given him, Zack automatically assumed she was the one who’d been wronged. She blinked back tears of gratitude for the kindness of his assumption and the certainty with which he’d expressed it.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Chapter Six

  Zack unloaded Trixie’s stroller from the back of the van. Then, he dug through the carnage in search of her diaper bag. He found it crushed between the now-empty cooler and a backpack loaded with sunscreen, wet-wipes, and half-eaten snacks.

  It was after eight o’clock in the evening. All four kids were asleep in the van, which was no surprise, because they’d had quite a day. The zoo, then ice cream, followed by a late afternoon picnic lunch by the lake at the park, and hotdogs on the way home despite Posey’s half-hearted protests that they weren’t healthy.

  Thank you.

  Those two little words, delivered in her quiet voice, had raced around in his head the whole day, chased by the knot he’d gotten in his gut when he’d reached past her and she’d flinched—flinched—telling him exactly what had ended her marriage, and that Dan had been right.

  She was running.

  Having her ask him if he ever lost his temper, however, had been the absolute worst, because if she’d known the amount of rage he’d had to rein in at the thought of her being treated unkindly, it would have terrified her—and he’d never, ever, allow that to happen. One asshole in her life was already one too many.

  Zack wasn’t against a good fistfight. He’d had his fair share. Jake and Luke used to get into it together on a regular basis growing up, too. Those two didn’t talk on the same level, so for them, it was a good way to clear the air.

  But there had been two ironclad rules laid down by their dad—they didn’t fight in front of their mother, or any woman if they could avoid it, and under no circumstances were they allowed to take on someone smaller or weaker. The second rule narrowed the field quite a bit, especially for Jake, who had too much muscle behind him to make a fight fair. Luke usually obliged him by throwing the first punch.

  That kind of aggression, Zack understood. The urge to strike a woman or child wasn’t one he could comprehend, however. Nor did he wish to. He’d sure as hell never be able to wrap his head around any man hitting Posey. Mac and Finn, starved for a mother’s attention, had followed her around the entire day. She’d gladly encouraged them, offering sweet smiles and kind words, and allowed Finn to sit on her lap, confirming she’d be right at home with a dozen or so children.

  It made Zack want her even more than he already did.

  But she was a fairy princess, meant to be spoiled and adored. She should be a richer man’s wife—someone who could afford to indulge her with everything her heart desired. And her heart, he suspected, was huge.

  Meanwhile, he was an unemployed accountant working pro bono for a year on a ranch owned by his brother.

  A western meadowlark flitted across the front lawn to land in one of the shrubs bordering the road. Its yellow breast puffed out as it clung to a scrawny branch with its toes and trilled out a clear song that carried to them on the evening air. Posey rocked her sleeping daughter in her arms. Long lashes lowered over dream-filled gray eyes as she rested her cheek on Trixie’s dark head, nestled against her shoulder, to listen.

  “I love that sound,” she half-whispered, half-sighed, exuding a contentment that caught his heart in its clasp and refused to let go. She lifted her eyes to gaze into his. “It’s so happy. Eleanor was right, you know. Montana is the best place on earth.”

  If she truly believed that, then what had the tears the other night been about?

  “The sky is amazing at night,” he blurted out. “Would it be okay if I came back later on, after dark, to sit out on the porch with you and watch the stars?”

  He shouldn’t have asked. They’d all had a long day. The kids were exhausted. He had to take them home and get them tucked into bed. Posey would want to do the same with Trixie. The peaceful contentment slowly ebbed from her pretty face, replaced by a wary alertness. It killed him to see how skittish she was, but now that he’d figured out why, he didn’t take it personally.

  The meadowlark, finished its song, launched from its perch and disappeared. Through the van’s open window, he could hear Lydia sucking her thumb in her sleep. She always curled her forefinger over her nose. It was too cute.

  Then, Posey smiled at him, tightening her hold on his heart. “I’d like that. I have a bottle of wine in the cupboard,” she added. “It will be nice to have company to drink it.”

  “Give me an hour,” he said.

  Luke met him in the yard and helped him unload the van.

  After tucking the kids into bed, Zack headed for the front door once again.

  “What are you, bionic? A day herding Finn didn’t wear you out? Where are you off to?” Luke called down from the landing on the stairwell above him.

  Zack preferred not to say. Luke would only ask questions he’d rather not answer.

  “The same place you go on Tuesday nights,” he replied.

  Luke, every inch the nerdy professor, blinked behind the black-framed glasses he wore when he worked on his laptop. “Would you like to borrow my library card?”

  As if. They both knew the library wasn’t open Sunday nights. Or Tuesday nights, either. At least, not at three in the morning.

  Rumor had it that Luke was seeing the local dance teacher after hours, which would explain why he’d been so insistent with Jake on signing Finn up for lessons. Zack sincerely hoped the rumors were true. It would mean Luke wasn’t as broken up about Denise deserting him as Zack had feared.

  “Got my own card, right here in my back pocket,” Zack sa
id.

  He let himself out. Twilight had dwindled and stars peppered the sky. He jogged down the drive. As he reached the road, about to turn left toward Posey’s, headlights approached from his right. A truck rolled to a stop beside him.

  “You boys are hard to pin down,” a man drawled over the idling engine.

  Weldon Scott, from the Running River Ranch.

  Zack was surprised he’d stopped. They’d been neighbors forever, and while there were no hard feelings between the two operations, he and Zack’s father hadn’t been friends. Weldon was a hard man to get to know. Zack might have exchanged a handful of words with him in his entire twenty-eight years. He was a big man, well into his sixties now, and the muscle on him had begun to drift toward fat. He had a big nose and thick, bushy gray eyebrows. His personality bordered on dour.

  “What can I do for you?” Zack asked.

  “It’s more about what I can do for you,” Weldon said. “Jake won’t take the time to sit down and talk business, but I can help you out of the financial mess the Wagging Tongue’s in.”

  That put Zack’s back up. “I wouldn’t call it a mess.”

  “No? What would you call it?”

  “Growth. Sound investment.”

  “Call it whatever you like, then.” Weldon’s intense scrutiny of him cut through the dark like a laser. “I have enough cash on hand to make your growth and investment secure as well as sound.”

  “Luke and I won’t be selling our shares,” Zack said. If they did, they’d already agreed to sell them to Jake.

  “Yeah. I got that message already. Y’all inherited your stubbornness from your daddy.” Weldon propped his forearm on the door frame and leaned a little farther through the window. “What if I were to propose a merger, instead?”

  Zack had gone into accounting for a reason. He had a good head for business, the same as his mother. His father and Jake, while no slouches either, were far more committed to their roles as stewards of McGregor land than they were to its profit. Luke, the boy genius, seemed to have no interest in the ranch at all, but with him, it was hard to tell.

  Zack, however, wasn’t about to say no to what could be a good deal without hearing it, first. Weldon had no one but his grandson to leave his land to. Whatever proposition he made, the McGregors could counter. They ran the bigger operation, even if it was deeper in debt. They had a whole lot more mouths to feed, too.

  “I’d be willing to listen,” he said.

  “That’s all I’m asking. Maybe you can convince your brothers to listen, too. What say you and I sit down over coffee one of these days?”

  “No harm in that,” Zack replied.

  Weldon drove off, his satisfaction as plain as day.

  Crickets chirped in the long grass along the sides of the road. Zack thrust his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t worried about Weldon. He’d know a good deal when he saw it. If he didn’t see one, he’d walk away and Jake and Luke would never need to be bothered by it.

  Right now all he cared about was spending an evening under the stars with a beautiful fairy princess.

  Tonight, she wouldn’t shed any tears.

  *

  Posey tucked the bottle of red wine under her arm, juggling two glasses so she could manage the door. She left it open behind her as she stepped onto the night-shrouded porch.

  She handed the glasses to Zack, who’d already settled into the swing. He held them while she poured. Then, she set the half-emptied bottle on the weathered floorboards close to the porch railing where it was out of harm’s way and joined him.

  The swing was an ancient, sturdy wooden contraption, clearly handmade. She’d almost thrown it away and replaced it until she’d taken a closer look and saw it was teak. She’d scrubbed off quite a bit of the black mildew embedded in the grain of the wood, oiled it, and added comfortable cushions. It hung low enough so she could touch her foot to the floor when she sat. She didn’t have to worry about Trixie falling out and hurting herself, either. A little WD-40 had taken the squeak out of its joints, and while the wood groaned and creaked thanks to the current uneven distribution of weight—Zack was a great deal heavier than she was—it was more of a murmured objection than an outright revolt.

  The whole house was solid. And it was all hers.

  Sometimes she loved the sensation that knowledge gave her. At other times, it made her feel so… alone. As if home ownership was all she’d ever accomplish. As if the future were a huge, empty abyss and she’d gotten lost inside it. She’d look at the incredible black sky with its thick salting of stars and ask herself where she’d gone wrong.

  Tonight wasn’t one of those times. Zack had made her think that maybe—just maybe—the blame wasn’t entirely hers. She breathed in the scent of the pink heirloom roses that bloomed against the front of the house. Fresh, pretty new blossoms unfurled first thing every morning.

  “Cheers.” Zack clinked the lip of his glass against the side of hers, then took a cautious sip of wine. “Hey,” he said, sounding surprised. He examined his drink, although the night was too dark for him to possibly see more than the fact it was red. “This isn’t half bad.”

  How thoughtless of her. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if you like wine. It’s all I have in the house. I usually drink a glass before bed.” She’d developed the habit in the weeks following the end of her marriage. It helped her relax.

  “As it turns out, I do like it.” His eyes were on her, now. “I like a lot of things.”

  A faint breeze brushed against her hot cheeks. The way he looked at her… There was no mistaking his meaning. She was flattered, of course. But she’d been flattered before. Her uncle’s reminder of the one question she should always ask herself before becoming involved with a man popped into her head.

  What does he see in you?

  She couldn’t say. He liked to touch her. All day, he’d made excuses to do so. A warm, reassuring palm on her back. The brush of fingertips on her arm. A tap on her leg in the van when he had something to say that required her full attention. He didn’t know she had money, so that wasn’t it.

  A practical, exasperated part of her brain rebelled. Why was it so hard for her to believe that he liked her for herself? That she, too, could have what other people seemed to take for granted in life? Because she was afraid her father was right—that her money really was all she had going for her? Because Trevor had thought so?

  Because she was afraid of making another, potentially even greater and more devastating, mistake?

  “I can’t do this,” she said.

  Not again. Not so soon. Not with Zack.

  Not when she wanted too much for him to be exactly what he seemed to be.

  He was quiet for so long, she worried she’d misunderstood him and made a fool of herself by presuming an intent that wasn’t there.

  He lifted the untouched glass from her hand and set it next to his on the porch. He cupped her face in his palms. The swing swayed beneath them. The night inhaled all around.

  He pressed a light, quick, fierce kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you ever decide you at least need someone to talk to, I’m here to listen.”

  Her lips tingled with pleasure. She resisted the urge to touch her fingertips to them. He had to want something from her in return.

  She hadn’t yet figured out what. “Can I ask you a question instead?”

  “We’ve already established you can ask me whatever you like.”

  Are you what you seem?

  “Am I a project to you? Something to fix?”

  Something to entertain you while you’re in Grand?

  “Why? Are you broken?” He’d edged closer on the bench seat so that their thighs fused together. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “I want to forget it.” She didn’t want to relive her farce of a marriage.

  “You might want to forget. I don’t think you can.” He slipped an arm along the back of the swing. “Do you trust me?”
/>   Did she?

  “No.” She didn’t dare.

  “Of course you don’t. Why should you? Trust has to be earned.” His arm cradled her shoulders. She couldn’t say how it got there. He pushed with both feet. On the upward swing, he used his long legs to brace them so they faced the vast, starry sky. “Did you know that the Big Dipper isn’t an actual constellation, it’s an asterism? It’s a subsystem of Ursa Major. Seafarers have used it as a navigational aid for centuries. And see that hazy band?” He sketched its path through the sky with his finger. “That’s the Milky Way. It’s made up of more than one hundred billion stars.”

  The shift in the conversation left her adrift, unsure of her direction. Then, an anchor dropped. The painful knot strung tight inside her slowly unraveled. The light of the moon hacked at the edges of the abyss where she’d been wandering, lost, finally freeing her from the grasp of its shadows.

  He understood.

  She pointed toward the horizon, allowing herself to become caught up in the game. “What’s that bright light over there?”

  Zack squinted. His arm tightened around her shoulders. He’d gotten impossibly close. His handsome face bent closer to hers as he found the object she’d singled out. Her heart sprang to life. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to?

  How would she respond if he did?

  “Oh, man. You suck at stargazing,” he said. “Hundreds of billions to choose from, and yet, you pick a satellite.”

  She had to smile. No false flattery there. “Poor choices are a talent of mine.”

  The rise and fall of his chest was steady against her shoulder. “They don’t have to be. All you need to do is aim higher and a look a little deeper. Don’t settle on the first bright light you see.”

  Maybe the conversation hadn’t shifted as far as she’d thought. “I won’t need to settle. I’m not aiming for anything, anymore.”

  “Been there, done that, hmm?”

  “And I’ve got the T-shirt to prove it.” Who was asleep upstairs, worn out after a day of excitement. Zack was good with children, no doubt about that. “Okay, smart guy,” she said. “Which star would you choose?”