He pretended to study the sky. “The one on my right.”
She shouldn’t encourage him, but she had to ask. “What makes that one so special?”
He turned his head. His face, masked by shadows, was only a few inches from hers. Her heart pounded harder. Kiss me, it whispered, completely at odds with her head.
“Everything,” he said simply. “It’s got this great inner glow that only gets brighter the harder you stare. It mingles in with all the others, pretending it’s nothing special, when in reality it’s the most stunning star in the sky. It’s overlooked only because it works so hard to blend in. And that’s a real pity.”
His mouth covered hers. It wasn’t a quick kiss, this time. Or fierce either, for that matter. It was thorough, and sweet, and it left her limbs useless. His tongue tested her lips, then eased them apart. One light hand cupped her throat. The careful scratch of his thumb ignited her skin like the strike of a match. His other arm remained draped around her shoulders, creating a warm, comforting haven for her to nestle against. His fingers tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck. Everywhere his body came into contact with hers, the touch was light and unrestrictive. She could pull away if she chose. Instead, his light touch bound her more tightly to him.
She wasn’t the one who ended the kiss. Slowly, as she spun out of the stars and drifted to earth, awareness of her surroundings returned. She clung to the front of his shirt. He gazed down at her, his firm mouth unsmiling, a tender heat embedded deep in his eyes. The thumb that had been stroking her throat now brushed the underside of her lower lip.
“I couldn’t resist. Fairy princesses were meant to be kissed under the stars,” he said softly. “I’d say I’m sorry but I’d be lying to you, and I’m not doing that.”
She could think of no clever comeback. He was much, much better at charm than she’d suspected. He made her feel beautiful, and special, in a way no one else ever had. And he seemed so sincere, as if he truly believed her to be some sort of fairy princess.
She couldn’t let it go to her head. She’d never survive another disappointment—to have her dreams handed to her, then yanked away. She wasn’t that strong.
Trixie was enough for her. She should be grateful for what she already had.
“I met my husband in a coffee shop where I used to go to read,” she blurted out. “He’d sit so that whenever I looked up, he’d be in my line of sight.” She’d figured that out later on, after things began falling apart. Looking back, it was so obvious how stupid she’d been. “He must have paid attention to the types of books I liked, because he started reading them, too. He finally struck up a conversation with me. About books, of course. And I fell for it.”
Zack was nodding, as if in complete agreement with the strategy used. “He saw a beautiful girl and figured out how to win her.”
Beauty wasn’t what Trevor had seen. He’d seen a rich girl, hungry for love.
“I ended up pregnant. We were both thrilled—at least I thought we both were.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness reined in. It had festered too long. “I really did want a dozen children. I pictured us with this big, happy family. We had so much in common. I thought we were on the same page.” She took a deep breath. Her fingers gripped his shirt tighter. She was glad it was dark because it made the story a tiny bit easier to tell. “The first time he hit me, we’d been married a week. I think I asked him how his day was.”
“I told you he was an asshole,” Zack muttered under his breath. “Let me guess. You didn’t have any family to turn to for help so you tried to stick it out.”
She wished she could take the credit he tried to give her. “I have an uncle, but I was too embarrassed to let him know what was going on.” Her next breath was shaky. “It took Trevor shaking Trixie for me to finally see where the real problem was.” She didn’t think she’d ever recover from the guilt of allowing her daughter to be in an unsafe situation. She couldn’t bear to be judged by Zack for it, too. “She was a year old when I left him.”
So far, Zack hadn’t shown much reaction. Now he was frowning as if he couldn’t figure out an important piece of her story. “I got the impression you’d only recently been separated.”
“It seems like yesterday to me,” she said. “The past year has been really hard.” And the year and a half before that, even harder. She’d kept hoping things would get better. Instead, they’d gotten worse. Accepting he didn’t love his daughter either shouldn’t have come as such a shock, considering how tense her relationship with her own father had been, but it had. How could anyone not love sweet, outgoing Trixie? “Legally, it’s not easy to end things when there’s a child involved.”
“No. I suppose it wouldn’t be. There’s a ton of paperwork involved when you move children who are orphaned out of state. I can only imagine what’s involved when you have to share custody.”
Trevor hadn’t been interested in shared custody. They’d had no visitation rights to sort out. He’d only cared how much money to demand from her for giving Trixie up. She didn’t correct Zack on his assumption, however. She didn’t want pity.
She wanted him to understand why she wasn’t ready to try again. “Trixie and I are finally getting back on our feet. Our lives are beginning to be normal. Thank you for today. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. But I need some space.”
“Fair warning,” Zack said slowly. “I’m a patient guy. I can wait. But if you think the way you’re living is normal, then you have a problem.”
Chapter Seven
“What’s wrong with the way we’re living?”
Zack couldn’t believe she had to ask. Where did he even begin?
His goal wasn’t to make her defensive. Or hurt her. She’d already cut herself off from everyone in her life. He could understand why—the people she’d cared about, and who should have cared about her, had all let her down. The physical abuse boggled his mind. She wasn’t going to get to add him to her list of disappointments, however.
He’d give her time. He really was patient. But a dose of reality wouldn’t do her any harm, either. She’d cracked the door open. He’d wedge his foot in.
He returned her wine glass to her and took a sip from his own. The wine really was good. He set the swing gently swaying and thought about how best to help her regain her trust in humanity. There were more good people than bad in the world. Unfortunately, the bad ones left the most lasting impressions.
“The past few months have taught me how short life really is,” he said, “and how valuable good neighbors are. Hiding in your house is a mistake. If you want to discover the real benefits of being part of a community, and how good the people here are, you’ve got to give Grand a real chance.”
“I don’t know anything about being part of a community.”
No matter how much her wistfulness cut him, or how delicate she seemed on the surface, she’d already proven she wasn’t fragile, and there were some things he couldn’t make easier for her. If she wanted to belong here, she had to fit in on her own.
“You could start by volunteering,” he said.
She had a habit of tilting her head to one side while she was thinking. It made her look so serious. Which she was. She reminded him a little of Luke, who was another classic overthinker. “I don’t have any useful skills.”
He nudged her knee with his thigh. “Are you kidding me, Mother Goose? Grand could use a good preschool. I know because I’ve checked into it for Lydia. There’s nothing. You could start one up in the fall. Maybe even make some money at it.”
“Why wait until fall, then?” she asked.
Zack was practical when it came to doing what had to be done. And he knew about business.
“You’re going to need a location, a license, and a good business plan. I can help you with those. You’ll need a loan. I can help you arrange that, too.” He’d get to dig around in her finances and see how badly the ex had screwed her over in the settlement. Maybe he could figure out how to help her get more
out of the bastard. “Also, because I need childcare this summer and you owe me a few favors,” he reminded her, in case she worried about him doing work for her for free. “Mac and Finn are in a bad place right now. Mac has anger issues. He got into a fight at soccer practice already, so putting him with kids his own age where we can’t keep an eye on him isn’t a good idea. Finn thinks his parents are coming back and nothing we say can convince him otherwise. He’s like a Malamute, too. If you leave a door open, he bolts. Lydia and Trixie are babies. All four are going to require all of your energy this summer.”
She went into Mother Goose mode, frowning at him. “You make them sound awful. Those children are sweet.”
“Yeah. They are. But you’ve spent one day with them. Wait until you have to entertain them all by yourself.” While Zack loved them, he wasn’t blind to the problems they faced. They’d suffered a terrible loss and required a lot of adult attention. Mac, the poster child for stoicism, cried in his sleep.
It made the hairs on Zack’s arms stand on end just thinking about it.
Posey rubbed the heel of her palm against her thigh. She stared at her lap. “I know what they’re going through.”
The quiet reminder unsettled him, especially when he compared his happy childhood to what hers must have been like. He’d had invested parents and older siblings to turn to. If she’d cried in her sleep the way Mac did, or woke screaming from nightmares like Finn, had there been anyone to hold her and reassure her she was still loved? That life would eventually get better again? Had no one at all distracted her with things like days at the zoo?
Who had been there for her when her train wreck of a marriage had crumbled and fallen apart?
Through it all, she’d remained sweet, gentle, and kind. She had no idea how much inner strength she possessed.
The moon peered past the porch roof, bathing her beautiful face in pale light, and it struck him—he’d captured a fairy princess by moonlight. How lucky was he?
He hadn’t quite captured her, though. But he planned to, someday. He only wished he had more to offer her when he did. Right now, the way things stood, the Wagging Tongue Ranch couldn’t support three separate incomes. Fifty-one percent of it belonged to Jake, and really, even that wasn’t enough. Not when he had three kids to support. Luke, if he ever got his head back on straight, might decide to return to Montana someday for good. If he did, he’d need his share.
And Zack wanted that big family every bit as much as Posey did. It was the one thing he could give her. He’d love for her to be able to stay at home with their children, and not have to take another dime from her deadbeat, loser ex-husband for Trixie.
Weldon Scott’s words came back to him. “What if I were to propose a merger, instead?”
What if the McGregors added the Running River Ranch to the Wagging Tongue operation?
Zack didn’t dare get his hopes up. Weldon would want to retain control of the Running River. He’d want to control the Wagging Tongue, too. Jake would never accept that. None of the McGregors would.
First, rather than jump to conclusions, he had to hear Weldon out and see what he offered. When it came to business, Zack enjoyed negotiations. He’d been referred to as ruthless on more than one occasion.
“Yes, you do know what the kids are going through,” he said to Posey, wishing she didn’t. That nobody did. “That’s why you should wait until fall for your preschool. For their sakes. If you don’t mind waiting,” he added. “Really, it’s your decision to make. I’ll help you out with the business end of things, no matter what.”
“That’s kind of you.”
No, it wasn’t. It was entirely self-serving. Her ex wasn’t the only man who knew how to get what he wanted.
Except Zack would treat her with a damned sight more care, because fairy princesses deserved nothing less than the best.
“What books do you like to read?” he asked.
She studied him over the rim of her glass. She tapped it against her bottom lip. “Russian literature.” She threw it down like a challenge.
He pulled a face. “Forget I asked. Sure, you’re beautiful, but I’m not even going to try faking an interest in that.”
She laughed. The sound glided over his skin. “What if I said I prefer Westerns?”
“I’d say I’m flattered, but there’s no need to fake any interest on my account, either. I’m easier than that.”
She laughed harder. He fell a bit deeper.
The night breathed around them, teeming with life. He’d gotten an arm around her shoulders again and she relaxed against him, no doubt thanks more to the wine than his company, but he’d take what he could get.
“How about we just sit here and look at the stars?” she suggested.
As long as he was with Posey, he could sit here all night.
“Fine. You go right ahead and stare at that satellite,” he said. “I’ll be keeping my eye to my right.”
*
Posey really did want to belong in Grand. This was her home now.
She wanted a preschool too, so she took Zack’s suggestions to heart. Getting her certifications and finding the perfect space would take the most time, so she immediately got started on that. She was less enthusiastic about volunteering, although mostly because she had no idea how to go about it.
In the end, she didn’t have to do anything. The opportunity presented itself to her.
Posey met Eleanor for coffee one morning during the first week of July at the Wayside, a cute little hipster café with a patio that jutted out over the Yellowstone River. She’d strapped Trixie into the highchair provided for her because of the wrought iron railings positioned far enough apart for a toddler to squeeze through.
Trixie, after her initial protests at being restrained, entertained herself by chattering to the other patrons, none of whom could resist her. Posey was biased, but she had to agree that overall, her daughter truly was irresistible.
“The ladies’ auxiliary are making a quilt to fundraise for the church,” Eleanor said. “Why don’t you join us?”
“I don’t know how to quilt,” Posey replied.
“We’ll teach you.” The older woman added more cream to the white ceramic coffee mug on the round patio table in front of her. “I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s as much about socializing as fundraising, and we need younger women to show up and learn. If your stitches are terrible, the experienced quilters take them out and redo them later.”
“What about Trixie?”
“Bring her along. Most of us are over sixty. We can’t sit stooped over all afternoon, anymore. We’ll take turns entertaining her. Diana O’Sullivan brings her children, too. She has a six-month-old and a three-year-old. Her little boy Marcus would love to have someone to play with.”
Diana was Weldon Scott’s daughter. According to Eleanor, in contrast to her father she was universally loved.
At Posey’s first quilting session, when she ended up sitting beside her at the enormous wooden frame, it wasn’t hard to see why. Diana O’Sullivan was dark-haired, plump in a pretty, Rubenesque way, and she possessed a bright, welcoming smile that screamed, ‘Let’s be friends for life.’
She leaned toward Posey. “Your little girl is beautiful. What’s her name?”
Within the first half hour, she’d drawn the highlights of Posey’s life story from her and shared her own highlights, too. Posey learned that Diana’s mother had walked out when Diana was twelve, leaving her to run a ranch house—and kitchen—alone.
“I’m done with ranch life,” Diana declared cheerfully, much as she might announce she’d finished the dishes. “I hate to cook and somebody else can wash smelly old barn clothes. I grew up with the McGregors. How do you like living next door to them?”
The shift in subject happened so fast, Posey was caught completely off guard. “I only know Zack.”
Diana prattled on. “I used to date Jake, but we’ve known each other our whole lives and it was like dating a brother. We make bette
r friends. Zack was the sweetest little guy. He would have been twelve back when I spent a lot of time at their house. He knew how to charm girls, even then. That hasn’t changed. Since he’s been home, every unattached woman in Grand has been buying her groceries on Thursdays. And Luke is so smart. It’s hard to believe none of them are married.”
For the past month, Zack left the children with Posey so he could run errands on Thursdays.
She almost felt as if he were cheating on her—which was ridiculous, of course. They’d become friends. Still, he dropped by to see her most evenings when he wasn’t alone with the children.
“Zack’s only twenty-eight,” she said. “I doubt if he’s ready to settle down.” Although at the same age, she’d already been a mother.
Look how that had turned out for her, too.
“He hasn’t settled down only because he hasn’t found what he wants.” Diana threaded her needle from one of the communal skeins tossed on top of the quilt. “A woman should be so lucky. All of those boys are serious about family. Why do you think they dropped everything and came running home when they were needed?”
Posey focused on threading as many tiny stiches onto her needle as she could, the way she’d been shown. The fabric and quilt batting were stretched so tight on the frame it was difficult to catch all the layers without paying close attention. Try as hard as she might, however, she couldn’t manage more than two stitches at a time.
“Zack doesn’t seem the serious type,” she said, keeping her eyes on her handiwork.
“You’ll know he’s serious when he wants you to know.”
Posey missed a stitch and had to start over. When she checked, Diana’s expression reflected innocence. The comment likely meant nothing.
Because, at the end of the day, Zack wasn’t truly serious about Posey. She was a novelty to him. A project, perhaps. Definitely a diversion. That he was sad about the loss his family had suffered went without saying, and she recognized that helping her get her life back in order gave him a sense of purpose in his.
The Rancher's Proposal (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 3) Page 8