Читать книгу Family By The Bunch - Amy Frazier, Amy Frazier - Страница 11

Chapter Three

She was in trouble.

Neesa maneuvered her car under the Whispering Pines sign. The bright May sunshine danced shadows over the empty passenger seat. Hank had neither asked for a ride nor offered to give her a ride with Chris and Casey. Heck. Yesterday he’d barely been able to growl out directions to his ranch. She was definitely persona non grata at this picnic. A troublesome addition. As welcome as ants and rain. Here only because of the two little Russells’ enthusiasm and persistent pleas. She should know better than to go where she wasn’t wanted.

But, having seen Hank Whittaker interact with children, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to see his ranch. She had a feeling that if she minded her p’s and q’s today, she might provide her agency’s kids with a golden opportunity. If she found an opportunity to broach the subject, the Hank who liked children would come through for Kids & Animals. He had to.

Even if he did come through, she was still in trouble.

Emotional trouble.

This had not proved to be her normal weekend. Not at all. Her normal weekend consisted of trips to the library to research the latest child advocacy programs, or popcorn and milk in front of the stereo as she tapped out Web sites on her laptop. Occasionally Claire and Robert would come by and drag her out to a movie. But never in the past year had she spent two days playing.

And playing with children.

A tiny, well-disciplined pain tugged at her heart. She could handle working with the kids at the agency. They needed her. There simply was no question that she’d help them. But weekends in the suburbs were tough. Happy children. Happy families. Always reminding her of her inability to bear children. Always reminding her of Paul’s disgust at that fact. His leaving because of it.

Her need to protect her emotional vulnerability where children were involved was the reason the big For Sale sign stood in her front yard. A condo in an urban adult complex would be a much safer residence, considering her particular circumstances.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and concentrated on the winding dirt road before her, the property spreading out on either side.

Such a piece of property.

Rolling pastureland, rimmed with tall pines. The biggest horses she’d ever seen, grazing contentedly just beyond the fence. Blue sky. Puffy clouds. Butterflies fluttering just above the grass. And the sweet smell of the earth. Hank Whittaker certainly had himself a little slice of heaven.

It wasn’t long before Neesa could see a sprawling house in the distance, a grove of pecan trees arched protectively about it, a barn not far from the house. This was a very private little slice of heaven. Her heart did a flip-flop at the audacity of her intrusion.

Finally pulling her car up close to the front veranda, she debated turning around and heading right back to Holly Mount, where she would plug in her laptop and salvage a normal weekend—Sunday alone and dedicated to work. But then Hank stepped onto the veranda from the interior of the house.

And Neesa found herself unable to move in her seat.

The tall, whipcord-lean man framed in the dark doorway, belonged to another time and place. A time of rugged individualists. A place that bred true grit and free spirits. Even in the veranda’s shadows his eyes flashed strength and determination.

Surely a determination to hasten her departure, Neesa thought as, with her own brand of true grit, she opened the car door and set foot on Whittaker land. He might not have extended the invitation, but she’d been given one, nonetheless, and she would make the most of it.

“Any trouble getting that roller skate over the bumps in the lane?” Sauntering down the front steps, he cocked his head at her sports car.

Her pulse performed a tiny riff at the sound of his gravelly voice. Why did she always seem in danger of losing her professional perspective when Hank came around?

Trying to pull her small frame taller, she engineered what she hoped was an enthusiastic and guileless expression on her face, then looked him right in the eyes. “Not at all. I’m an excellent driver. And I love a good adventure.”

His dark eyes seemed to go a shade darker. “I just bet.”

Well, now. The day was not off to a good start.

Stay on task. Stay on task Stay on task, she repeated in a mental mantra.

“Where are Chris and Casey?” she asked, discovering to her chagrin that her voice echoed the catch in her heartbeat.

“Helping Reba pack the picnic basket.”

“Reba?” His wife. Surely his wife.

“My housekeeper.”

“Oh.” She hoped her smile hadn’t suddenly broadened into a revealing smirk. “What’s for lunch?” she added lamely.

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Bubble gum and tortilla chips if Casey and Chris have anything to say about it”

She breathed a little sigh of relief at the lightening of his words. “Do you have time to give me a tour?” She might as well be bold. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And if she could get him alone, he might be less distracted. She might be able to ask him about Kids & Animals sooner than if the Russell children demanded their attention. At least, that sounded like good motivation.

Who was she trying to fool?

He stiffened. And scowled. Obviously the idea of spending time alone with her didn’t strike him as dandy.

“Of course he’ll give you a tour.” The sandpaper voice came from behind her.

Neesa turned to see a wiry old man surveying the two of them with profound satisfaction.

“I’m Willy. Hank’s foreman.” He extended his bony hand. “I’ll keep Reba and the kids company while you take a little walk. At least show the lady Noah’s ark.”

“Noah’s ark?” Neesa turned to Hank for an explanation, but intercepted, instead, a thunderous expression aimed at Willy.

“Hank’ll explain everything.” Willy gave the two an impatient push toward the barn. “While you’re walkin’.”

Abruptly turning his back on Willy, Hank strode at Neesa’s side. Silently. With a masculine grace that exuded power. And a simmering hostility. To her dismay, Neesa suddenly realized that this glowering cowboy was going to be a far greater distraction than either of the Russell children could think to be.

How would she ever find an opening to propose Kids & Animals?

Hank focused on the barn. And on the hundred different slow and torturous ways for firing Willy. The meddling old fool. The meddling old matchmaking fool. It was Hank’s bad luck that he loved the persistent codger.

For a lot of different reasons, Hank didn’t want this woman on his ranch. By his side. She didn’t belong on any ranch. Not with her elegant blouse and trim slacks and shoes unfit for walking a barnyard. But here she was. Uninvited. Well, Chris and Casey—But anyone would have had sense enough to decline the kids’ invitation. Anyone with the sense they were born with.

He glanced sideways at her. A little bitty thing. Why, he bet he could cup her whole head in the palm of one hand. Let that silky blond hair slide over his wrist and arm...

Beetling his brow, he attempted to corral his wayward thoughts.

He needed to be civil to her for the sake of Chris and Casey. At the same time he needed to hasten her departure from Whispering Pines, making it crystal clear that today’s tour was not to be repeated. His solitary refuge would not be violated again. Especially not by a fragile suburban princess with an impractical sports car that couldn’t even haul a decent bale of hay.

“What exactly is this Noah’s ark Willy spoke of?” Her voice shimmied over his senses like a warm spring rain.

He made the mistake of looking at her.

Lordy, but her blue-eyed gaze was enough to melt a man’s heart.

“It’s no Noah’s ark,” he muttered, trying desperately to rein in this pesky, unwanted attraction he felt for her. “That’s just what Willy calls the few animals I’ve rescued.”

“Rescued?” The light in her eyes softened considerably.

“It’s no big deal.” He didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of hero. “They’re just animals that have needed a place to heal. Or retire.”

“Draft horses?”

“No.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a beginning smile despite himself. “Take a look.” They’d come to the small, fenced pasture behind the barn. Whistling softly, he pointed to the far corner.

A llama stood watch over three sheep. The beast’s big ears twitched like furry antennae. But he didn’t move. He had a job to do. Hank had discovered that llamas make terrific sheep herders, protectively regarding their wards as dimwitted distant cousins.

“That’s Fancy,” Hank said, “and the Three Musketeers.”

“You’ve taken in a llama?” Amusement tinged her words.

Hank put his foot on the bottom rung of the fence, leaned his arms on the top. Looked out over the pasture rather than at Neesa beside him. “And the sheep. And Amos the pig, Bowser the dog, Miss Kitty, several Canada geese, and Gizmo the mule. A regular petting zoo.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her place those delicate white hands on the top fence rail, then rest her chin on her hands. “What a wonderful place for children,” she said, almost to herself.

“Chris and Casey don’t seem to object,” he replied brusquely, thinking with regret that cousins, nephews and nieces would be the only children on this ranch if he didn’t meet his dream woman. And soon.

He felt her hand, small and warm, on his arm. “How did this get started?”

Against his will, he looked at her and saw admiration in her face. Hell, he didn’t want her admiration. He wanted her to go home.

“Look, it was an accident the way it started out. People just dumped unwanted cats and dogs at the head of the lane.” He didn’t want her thinking he was some softhearted, save-the-animals kind of pushover.

“And?”

“And...I took them in to the animal shelter where they could be adopted.”

Neesa smiled, and Hank thought his dried-up heart grew two sizes.

“That doesn’t account for the llama.” She increased the wattage on the smile. “And the others.”

Dazzled, he forgot he was supposed to be merely civil to the woman until she took the hint to vamoose. “When I took the dogs and cats in, I found out that most of them would find a home. But there were other animals at the shelter—novelty pets whose novelty had worn off as they grew beyond the cute stage. Like Amos the Vietnamese pot-bellied pig.”

“And Fancy.” She squeezed his arm gently.

His mouth felt dry, his tongue too slow. “And Fancy,” he repeated dully, wishing to the devil that she’d stop smiling. Would take her hand away from his arm where it felt too good. Far too good.

“And?” She looked up at him as if he were something special. As if he were Noah himself.

“The shelter coordinator knew I had a ranch. Asked if I’d take a few of the animals that needed space. It’s that simple.” He stepped back from the fence and ran his fingers through his hair just to dislodge her hand from his arm.

“What about the Canada geese?” She looked as if she actually cared.

“Wounded. Some kids with a bow and arrow. Folks knew of the few strays I’d taken in. Brought the geese here.” He hadn’t spoken so many words to a woman not Reba in he-didn’t-know-how-many years. Suddenly he felt self-conscious. The barnyard felt airless. “I think we’d better check on the kids.”

“Okay.” She cheerfully fell into step at his side. “As long as you promise I can pet the llama later.”

If he could help it, there would be no later. A quick lunch. Civil but quick. A walk to her car and goodbye. The woman made him uneasy by her mere presence. Her delicate made-for-the-suburbs presence. And her questions and her interest made him very uneasy, too.