“How long since the two of you broke up?” Mara picked up her fork and stabbed a plump cherry, the sharp action belying her serene expression. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
He wished he agreed. They might be in this for sex, but he wouldn’t be thrilled if the pop star called her right now, either. “We split up shortly after I came to Grand. It turns out she has no interest in kids. Or Montana.” Him either, for that matter, other than what he’d represented to her in terms of a lifestyle.
Mara did the math in her head and figured out it had only been a month. She might like to tease him about being smart, but she wasn’t stupid, either.
“I teach a class at eight o’clock,” she said.
The clock on the microwave read 7:03. His heart dropped but he tried to sound cool. “Are you telling me to get out?”
“Not in those exact words.” She faked a smile, but it lacked its normal fire.
“Are the exact words, ‘Get out and don’t ever come back’?”
Gorgeous blue eyes took his measure, and for a moment, the world ceased to turn. Sunlight caught the faint flush spreading across her high cheekbones. Then, she relented. “How about, ‘Get out so I can prepare for my class, but you can call me’?”
The world settled back into orbit. He wanted to kiss her, relieved beyond words. If he kissed her, however, he wouldn’t stop there, and eight o’clock wasn’t that far away.
Besides, he should be getting home. He’d made plans to take Mac and Finn swimming that afternoon, and sooner or later, they’d notice he wasn’t on the ranch. Finn, especially, was clingy when people weren’t where he thought they should be. His world hadn’t yet righted itself and wasn’t likely to do so anytime soon.
He downed the last of his coffee. “I’ll do that.”
Chapter Eight
Luke took the boys swimming at the public pool, then for ice cream afterward.
A dry thunderstorm hit as they made their way across the Dairy Queen parking lot to the car. Mac took it in stride. Finn, not so much.
The first streak of lightning didn’t spark any major reaction. The second, however—so close it raised all of the fine hairs on Luke’s body, and the smell of ozone riddled the air—proved too much for a five-year-old suffering from separation anxiety to ignore, particularly when people began running for cover. Finn attached himself to Luke’s leg and refused to let go.
Luke pried him loose and swung him into his arms. “It’s okay, bud. I’ve got you.”
He hustled the kids into the car and buckled Finn in his seat. The summer had begun hot and dry and showed no signs of improving. A quick check of the cloudless sky dimmed his hopes. The ranch had cut as much hay as it could, but they’d been holding out for rain. Unless they got some soon the next crop would be a bust, and according to Zack, the ranch needed the money.
By the time he got home the storm had passed without a lick of rain falling, Finn was engaged with Luke’s tablet, and Jake was saddling his horse in the yard.
Everyone said Jake and Luke looked alike, but other than the dark hair and green eyes, Luke didn’t see it. Jake was a hair shorter, although he had the more muscular build. He didn’t smile often, or have much to say, but he had an okay sense of humor that he reserved mostly for family.
“There’s smoke out by Camelback Butte,” Jake said.
“Want me to come with you?” Luke asked. Lightning strikes often caused grass fires, another setback the ranch didn’t need.
“No.” He swung into the saddle. “The fire has nowhere to spread and the cattle aren’t in any danger. I want to double-check on things is all.”
Mac, who’d gotten out of the car, leaned against the hood, his ten-year-old voice filled with hope. “Can I come along?”
Luke knew the answer before Jake even spoke. He also could tell how hard it was for Jake to say no, but safety came first, and Mac couldn’t yet sit a horse on his own. They’d also had reports of a bear roaming the area and killing cattle—which was why Jake carried their dad’s .338 Winchester Magnum rifle in a scabbard tucked under his knee.
“Not this time, Mac. As soon as you learn to ride though, we’ll put you to work. I promise.”
“Come on guys,” Luke said to the boys. “Go put your wet swim gear in the laundry room and I’ll let you play games online.”
Offering the boys a chance to use his computer system was an enticement they couldn’t resist. He had an ulterior motive, however. He wanted to watch the music video Mara had danced in, and so far today, he’d had no opportunity.
They dropped their towels and swim trunks in the tired washing machine in the mudroom before traipsing through the kitchen, the den, and into a small hallway.
The Wagging Tongue ranch house had been built in the eighteen hundreds, then added to over the decades. The main part of the house had been modernized, but an annex that one of their forefathers had built for aging parents retained much of its rustic charm—heavy emphasis on rustic. It had become more of a guesthouse for extended family visits over the years.
The annex, known as the west wing, had its own outdoor entrance, but it was inconveniently located on the far side of the house where there was no driveway. The easiest way to reach it was through the main part of the building. At one point the McGregors had spoken of taking in paying guests, but Luke’s mother hadn’t liked the idea of strangers in her home.
Jake had suggested Luke take the space for his own so he could keep his computer equipment away from curious fingers. The wood stove no longer functioned, a small bar fridge sat in a corner, and the kitchen plumbing was crude. A former pantry had been converted to a bathroom with a sink, toilet, and claw-footed tub. Luke had turned the tiny parlor into a computer room, although he used the den in the main house for his home office space so he could help keep an eye on the kids through the day. It lacked the orderliness and clean, modern lines of his apartment in Seattle, but it felt more like home.
He and Denise had talked about moving in together, but they’d both been too busy to make a final decision as to whose apartment they’d keep. They’d both liked having their own space to work in.
There’d been so many signs that things weren’t perfect between them, and yet, he’d missed them all.
He set the boys up in the parlor, got them online with the parental controls activated, then took his laptop to the dinette table in the kitchen. The window looked out on the main road, but from his chair he could see the double screens in the other room.
He plugged in his earbuds so the boys couldn’t hear what he was up to on his laptop and did a quick search. Stalking a woman online felt a little uncool.
The music video didn’t take him long to find. It had one point four billion hits. He watched it twice.
One part in particular captured his attention. Mara’s chocolate-brown hair, worn long and loose, flew around her as she spun, head tilted back, arms stretched out wide. Joy lit her face. At one point the camera zoomed in on her smooth, Latina features for a slow motion shot of her lifting her head, then opening her incredible blue eyes to stare into the lens. She made him feel good just by watching.
She made the pop star feel good, too. Jealousy flared. There was no mistaking they had a connection between them. He read a few of the comments before he forced himself to stop. He already knew she had a great ass. He didn’t need helpful suggestions as to what he could do with it.
Speaking of asses…
The song was decent. He wasn’t much into pop, and the song was sappy as hell, but it didn’t make his ears bleed. Little Zee, on the other hand…
His stage name was stupid. He had emo written all over, what with broody dark eyes hidden by black, shaggy hair, pale skin, and a scrawny build that suggested either vampire or crack addict. Luke tried to figure out what Mara had seen in him. Money wasn’t her motivator, although the one point four billion hits suggested the money was good.
He couldn’t help it. Now that he’d seen the video, he had to
check out TMZ and other celebrity sites to get the insider scoop.
What he found wasn’t pretty. Mara had been dogged by cameras while still in the hospital, with only the staff to protect her, because Little Zee, the asshole, had left her to fend for herself.
Luke studied the photos. The joy was gone from her face. Her eyes were haunted. And he understood why Diana had taken such an interest in her, and what the dance mothers had meant about her hiding in Grand. People here would have taken one look at her tragic eyes and closed ranks around her, because nosy or not, they were decent.
Now that Little Zee had moved on and Mara was no longer an item of gossip, a lot of the inner joy had come back. She was a survivor, no doubt about that. Luke flipped the lid closed on his laptop and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t have far to look to see how resilient people could be. In the other room, Mac was patiently helping Finn work his game controller.
But there was something wrong with a man who could treat a woman that way.
The thought was followed by a spasm of guilt. How, exactly, was the way he treated Mara any better?
Thanks to a poorly-timed text, she’d been very close to telling him she didn’t want to see him again. That bothered him. A lot. He couldn’t say he was thrilled about the way she’d come into his life, or the timing, but he wasn’t sorry she had, and the only reason he wasn’t thinking too far ahead right now was because he didn’t want to foresee an end. Things were precarious with her and he didn’t want to come on too strong.
He’d give her a few days before he called.
Finn bounced into the kitchen. He’d lost interest in playing a game he couldn’t quite master and left it to Mac.
“When am I getting my dance stuff?” he asked.
Luke lifted his nephew onto his knee. So far, Finn hadn’t blabbed anything to Jake about dancing, which Luke had half expected and been preparing himself for. The fight would be epic.
Finn, however, was too smart for his own good. He played each of his uncles to get what he wanted, and while they knew what he was up to, he was so freaking cute they couldn’t resist. It was pretty funny the way he managed to end up sleeping with Jake every night, too.
But he’d also figured out when Jake couldn’t be played, and as long as Finn wanted to keep taking dance lessons, then Luke was his go-to.
“How about we go shopping tomorrow afternoon?” Luke suggested. Lydia was growing so fast she could use a few new things, too.
“Mac’s game is too hard,” Finn complained, eyes wide and beseeching as he moved on to demand number two. “Can I play on your phone?”
The McGregors were trying their best to make things normal and fun for the kids without spoiling them rotten. Luke weighed the importance of winning this battle against giving in from the start, because if he said no he’d have to stand his ground and he didn’t have it in him.
“Ten minutes,” he said, ceding the flag and handing over the phone. “Then we get cleaned up for supper. What do you say we go out for burgers since Uncle Jake, Uncle Zack, and Lyddie aren’t home yet?”
He’d call Mara Tuesday night when she was free. Then, he’d put more effort into the time they spent together. The sex was fantastic, and a big part of the attraction—there was no point in lying—but she deserved more.
*
None of the fifteen-year-olds in Mara’s Sunday morning jazz class were going to make a career out of dance, but they got a lot of fun out of trying. Three of them were competitive swimmers who used the class as a way to incorporate a different form of exercise into their training program. They said they liked it better than yoga.
Mara turned off the music at the end of the class. The mothers had begun to wander in, eager to see how their daughters compared, even though the girls hated being compared to each other and didn’t want to be show ponies. Mara remembered objecting to her mother’s presence at dance lessons, too. She’d implemented a no-parent policy early on so her students could express themselves without fear of judgment or face unrealistic expectations at home.
As she spoke with two of the students, she overheard snippets of a conversation near the door. The name “McGregor” was what caught her attention.
“Jake McGregor has Mac in soccer,” one woman mused to another. “Interesting, considering Lacey Anderson is the coach. And I heard they were spotted at the Wayside Café, snuggled up by themselves, all deep in ‘conversation.’” She used air quotes for emphasis. “They were such a cute couple in high school. Think there’s anything more going on?”
“Of course there is. What’s equally interesting is that Luke has the younger boy, Finn, taking dance lessons on Saturdays. What are the odds there’s something going on between him and Mara, too?”
Mara pretended she hadn’t heard, although her face had gotten so hot, no one could possibly be fooled. This wasn’t as bad as the whole Little Zee affair, not by a long shot, but still. It was one thing to know people were talking. It was far different to know.
“Oh, my God,” one of the girls said. She tossed her blond ponytail and rolled her eyes. “I wish my mom would grow up. Ignore them, Miss Ramos.”
“I heard that, Layla,” her mother called.
“So did Miss Ramos,” Layla fired back. “Who she and Miss Anderson do in their spare time is none of your business.”
“Layla!”
The exchange, so inappropriate, had Mara suffering mixed feelings. Part of her thought it was funny. This was what kept her in Grand. The people might be nosy, but their intentions were good. They didn’t know everything, however. Neither had she.
And that wasn’t funny at all.
She should have known there was a woman in Luke’s life. The signs had been there. Mentally, she ticked them off. He hadn’t noticed her interest in him when they first met. He had no clue how to flirt. He’d panicked over a kiss that was unexpectedly intense. He’d warned her he wasn’t interested in a relationship.
She’d had to do the pursuing.
She’d assumed he was messed up because of the recent tragedy in his family. She’d had a hard, life-altering year herself, and liked not having to make any emotional commitments that might lead to complicated decisions, so she’d thought she understood. The possibility of a fiancée—no matter how former he claimed her to be—hadn’t once entered her head.
“It was no one.”
The words didn’t ring true. Luke was so… family-oriented. If he’d asked someone to marry him, then he’d been deeply committed, and a month wasn’t enough time for him to recover, especially not when he was also dealing with grief. What if the breakup was temporary? What if he went back to her? What was she like?
What if he still loved her?
He wasn’t yet free. That text had confirmed it.
Tell him it’s time to move on.
That was what she should have done the moment she found out about the fiancée. A sexual relationship between two consenting adults was one thing. She didn’t want to be the other woman. The third wheel. The mistress.
The one less important.
She really didn’t want all of Grand knowing it, either.
The phone finally rang Tuesday night.
She hugged her knees as she sat on the sofa—the same one she’d clung to as he’d given her the second of four heart-stopping orgasms—and let the phone ring three times. The stars were coming out in the navy-blue sky. She gazed up at them through the window.
Then, on the fourth ring, she answered.
“Hey,” Luke said. “I hope I didn’t make you run for the phone.”
His concern for her came through the connection, gliding warm hands over her skin, and for a moment, Mara stopped breathing. No sane woman would give up a man like this without a fight.
“No,” she said.
“I see.” She could picture his dark-lashed, green eyes narrowing as he figured out that she’d let the phone ring because she couldn’t decide whether or not to pick up. “I’m coming over.” It wasn’t a
question.
“Maybe another night. I’m tired and I have a headache,” she lied.
“I won’t stay long. I forgot my hat.” There was another pause. “I think we should talk.”
“Meaningful conversation isn’t really my forte,” she said, then wondered where that had come from. She’d traveled extensively. She wasn’t uneducated. It wasn’t Dr. Pretty’s fault that he made her think of nothing but sex when she was with him.
She’d liked it that way.
“Is that what’s bothering you? You think we can’t talk on the same level?”
Yes.
She was as surprised by the discovery as he seemed to be. Thinking about the kind of woman he’d been willing to commit to had intimidated her, and she wasn’t used to that.
“I have interests other than my work,” he said. His tone had changed. She heard relief. Is that all the problem is? “I enjoy your company, Mara. You’re easy to be around. You’re not just a dreamer—you’re also a doer. That’s a rare combination.”
She needed to do something right now, before things moved in a direction she hadn’t intended. She would have been fine with them being friends instead of lovers, but they couldn’t be both. Now, she wasn’t sure they could have been either of those.
She’d been quiet too long.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he said. “Why can’t we just continue to enjoy ourselves without worrying about what happens tomorrow?”
She had to smile at having her own words thrown back at her. She wished she didn’t like him so much. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be a jerk?”
“I have two brothers and a ten-year-old nephew. I hear that every day.” The line crackled a little. “This is about the text I got, isn’t it?”
“It threw me a little,” she admitted. “I’m not okay with you being involved with someone else.”
“I’m not. I swear to you, Mara—we’ve split up and we’re not getting back together. I’m coming over,” he said again.
She found her voice. “Not tonight.” And then, because she wanted to believe him, and was suddenly terrified of never seeing him again, she heard herself blurt out, “How about Saturday night, instead?”
The Rancher's Secret Love (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 2) Page 9