Читать книгу Major Nanny - Paula Graves - Страница 11

“I want to go riding, Mommy.”

Setting aside her pile of notes, Stacy turned to look into her son’s bright blue eyes. He wore an expression she was coming to know well, the “come hell or high water” look he gave her when he was determined to get his way.

“Zachary, I told you I have to work this afternoon.” She knew she was fortunate to be able to work from home when necessary. She and Zachary lived in the guesthouse at Twin Harts, so she was only a short walk from the governor’s own office at the ranch house.

“I was supposed to go riding Monday, but you changed the plans.” He sounded quite put out about it, too.

“Yes, I changed the plans. I told you why I changed them, didn’t I? Miss Lila had to visit the capitol, and I had to go with her. Remember?”

And then things blew up, literally, and now I have to work with a big, hard-muscled ex-military man with sexy brown eyes whom I can’t stop thinking about no matter how I try.

“You changed the plans, and I didn’t get to ride.”

“I’m taking you to see Miss Lindsay tomorrow, remember? It’s your regular riding lesson.”

Zachary’s round little face darkened. “You have to take me twice a week. I have to get a riding lesson in before tomorrow. I have to.”

Even though his vocal inflections and pronunciation were still those of a child of five, the words he chose and the sentence structure he used were far beyond his years. It was one of a wide range of possible indicators of Asperger’s syndrome. So was his dogged obsession with horses.

Some aspies became obsessed with video games. Some focused on planes or trains or cars. Zachary’s obsession with horses seemed to date back to the age of three, when her ex-husband’s parents had given Zachary a rocking horse for his birthday. That had been shortly after Stacy had started to realize her beautiful, bright son wasn’t the same as other children.

He’d been diagnosed with Asperger’s a few weeks later. For about three months, she and her ex-husband, Anthony, had struggled against the diagnosis, trying to come up with some other rational explanation for Zachary’s developmental difficulties. But all the signs were there, and finally, Stacy had been forced to face the truth. Her son was going to have a radically different life than the one she’d dreamed of when she’d first learned she was having a baby.

She’d accepted the truth. Anthony had not.

“Tell you what,” she said, gazing at her son with so much love in her heart she thought it might burst, “I’ll see if Mr. Miller can work you in at Miss Lila’s stable, okay?”

Zachary cocked his head, as if considering the offer. “Okay. What time?”

She glanced at her watch. It was almost two, and she had at least another hour’s worth of calls to make. “How about three? I’ll call Mr. Miller and see if he can work you in.”

She found the number for the stables and dialed, hoping the affable stable manager would be able to find a gentle horse for Zachary to ride around the paddock for a while this afternoon. If not, the rest of her day was going to be sheer hell.

The stable manager, Cory Miller, answered the phone. He was a gruff old Texan who’d been with the Lockhart family since Lila’s daughters and son were children. “Trevor’s nearly through with his work for the day—I can have him let Zachary have a ride.”

“Thank you so much, Cory!” Stacy nearly melted with relief. Trevor was one of the younger grooms. He seemed to enjoy letting Zachary take rides now and then. Maybe Zachary would settle down now and let her get on with the plans for the governor’s fundraiser. “And Cory? Please don’t tell the governor about this. I don’t want her to think Zachary’s getting in anyone’s way.”

“I don’t reckon she’d think that,” Cory protested. “But all right, Ms. Stacy. I’ll keep it to myself.”

Maybe Lila wouldn’t think she couldn’t handle the job because of Zachary’s special needs, but Stacy was in no position to put her job at risk. Lila paid very well, enough to cover the costs of Zachary’s weekly therapy sessions. If something happened to change the governor’s mind about Stacy’s ability to do the job, she didn’t know if she’d be able to find another job as flexible and lucrative.

Had she been wrong to believe she could handle a job as demanding as being Lila Lockhart’s aide-de-camp?

For a brief while, Lila had even named Stacy campaign manager for her presidential run, until Stacy—and others in the governor’s circle of friends—had convinced her that hiring a seasoned political pro was the only smart choice. Though deeply flattered by Lila’s confidence in her instincts and skills, Stacy knew her limitations. Lila deserved the best. Greg Merritt was the best.

Despite the daunting list of phone calls Stacy needed to make before Zachary’s impromptu riding lesson, she couldn’t concentrate. Zachary was being too quiet, so she took a quick break to see where her son had disappeared to.

She found him in his bedroom, riding the rocking horse his grandparents had given him. He chattered quietly to the toy, as if giving it commands. At five, he dwarfed the toddler’s toy, the sight comical enough to make Stacy smile.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floor, then resumed his play. No expression of welcome. No smile. Not even a grin of embarrassment at being caught playing with a baby toy.

Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them off, even though he wouldn’t react to them anyway.

“Is it time to go?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the rocking horse.

“Not yet.” She retreated from the room and let the burning tears fall, even though she knew she’d probably regret the show of weakness later, not being the sort of person who gave in to self-pity. But after the past few days, she supposed she could cut herself some slack.

It wasn’t as if the next couple of weeks were going to be any less stressful, after all. Between preparing for the fundraiser and working long and no doubt demanding hours with Harlan McClain, the next couple of weeks would be like living in a pressure cooker.

And if she wasn’t careful, the whole situation just might blow up on her. Because there was something about Harlan McClain that seemed to press all her buttons, good and bad.

When Anthony left, she’d thought her disillusionment and sense of betrayal had immunized her against the charms of any male besides Zachary. But even in the middle of a life-and-death situation in Austin, something about Harlan McClain had made its way past the walls she’d spent the past year and half building to keep herself and Zachary safe from any more unnecessary disappointments.

There had even been that moment, brief but powerful, when she’d literally fallen into his arms and realized that she could still feel wildly attracted to a man despite her determination to never be the fool again.

She’d have to be very careful not to let Harlan McClain slip through her defenses again.

THE GOVERNOR HAD GIVEN HARLAN a day off before starting work on the security plans for the fundraiser. He supposed she thought he’d need to tie up any loose ends in his personal life, since she clearly expected him to spend most of his waking hours at the ranch, coordinating the event. But he didn’t have any loose ends to tie up. His life these days was blissfully uncomplicated—no wife, no kids, no one to answer to besides Bart Bellows and his fellow agents at CSI.

Yeah, life was just a big ol’ bowl of cherries.

Well, except for the fact that the dream home he’d spent so much time planning for and saving for had gone to his ex in the divorce. Never mind that Alexis had been the one getting naked with the contractor—her daddy was a golfing buddy of the divorce court judge, and if that hadn’t been enough, the high-priced Atlanta lawyer she’d hired somehow managed to twist Harlan’s years of outstanding service in the Marine Corps into de facto abandonment of his wife and their marriage.

Goodbye, two-story farmhouse in Walnut Grove, Georgia. Hello, three-room man-cave in Freedom, Texas, with the thrift-store furnishings and only the big-screen TV he’d eked out of the divorce settlement to give him any sense of his old life following him into his new one.

Well, there was also his trusty old Ford F-10 pickup. Alexis never liked the truck, and he supposed he should just be glad she got all the vindictiveness out of her system by taking the house.

A quick rap on the door of his apartment dragged him out of his grim funk. Matt Soarez stood outside, holding a pink envelope. One black eyebrow arched upward. “It’s for you.”

Harlan took the envelope. It had his name written on the outside in a familiar script and smelled of gardenias. Well, hell.

“Holding out on us, McClain?” Soarez grinned broadly. “Who’s the lady?”

“She’s no lady.” Harlan grimaced. “She’s my ex-wife.”

Soarez winced. “I thought she was back in Georgia.”

“So did I.” Harlan frowned at the pink envelope. “Where did you find this?”

“In front of my door.” Matt lived in the next apartment to his own. “I just got home from lunch at Talk of the Town.”

Harlan glanced at his watch. It was after three. He shot Soarez a skeptical look.

“Hey, it’s my day off,” Soarez said with a grin. “Faith and I have plans to make, you know.”

“Plans for the wedding?” Not that Harlan cared about things like weddings or marriage or that mewling little baby girl of Faith Scott’s that Soarez was so sappy over. But anything to keep from opening the envelope from Alexis.

“Well, yeah, that, too.” Soarez’s grin widened further. “But first, we’re moving in together.”

Not what Harlan expected, though it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Soarez had been spending most of his hours away from work over at Faith’s place anyway. He lived right down the hall from Harlan, but Harlan hardly ever saw him outside of work anymore. “When’s that going to happen?”

“This weekend, unless something comes up at the agency.” Soarez’s dark eyes glittered with happiness. “I get to be a full-time daddy to Kayleigh.”

Harlan bit back the snarky reply teetering on the edge of his tongue. “You’ll enjoy that.”

Soarez didn’t miss the lack of enthusiasm. “Not all women are lying cheats, Georgia. Give it a little time. Maybe you’ll find a girl like Faith, too.”

Harlan didn’t want a girl like Faith. He didn’t want a woman in his life at all. In his bed? Sure. But beyond that, women were nothing but trouble.

Soarez shrugged. “Well, I’ll leave you to the she-beast’s letter.” He headed back down the hall to his apartment.

With a heavy sigh, Harlan closed the door behind him, leaning against the solid wood as he contemplated the pink envelope that smelled like gardenias.

What do you want, Alexis?

He ran his finger under the flap, wincing at a paper cut. Perfect, he thought, sliding the folded note from the envelope. Pressing his thumb to the nicked finger, he used the other hand to shake open the paper.

I’m in Freedom. Call me. We need to talk. No number written down on the page, so he guessed she still had her old cell phone number.

He crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage can in the kitchen, grabbing his jacket. He was halfway to his truck when his curiosity overcame his stubborn pride.

What on God’s green earth would Alexis be doing in Texas? He’d known her since they were both twelve years old, and he’d never heard her mention any family here. Certainly not in a tiny dot on the map like Freedom.

Had something happened to someone in her family? Did she need his help with something?

Growling a profanity, he climbed into the truck cab and pulled out his cell phone. She was still on his speed dial, he noticed with a grimace. He punched the code.

She answered on the first ring. “Hey, stranger.”

He laid his head back against the headrest. She might be a liar and a cheat, but that sweet magnolia accent still sounded pretty damned good. “What’s wrong, Alexis?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Call my lawyer.”

“It’s not a lawyer kind of topic,” she said, impatience adding a hint of spice to that honeyed drawl. “Just come meet me at the Bella Rosa. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Despite your best efforts, I can still buy my own cup of coffee,” he replied. “Are you there now?”

“Yes. You’ll come?”

“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “But this better be important.”

“It is,” she assured him.

He hung up without responding, muttering a low curse as he realized his nightmare of a marriage had found a way to live on, even after the divorce papers had been signed.

Bella Rosa was a small bistro on the eastern edge of Freedom’s town square. It was a few blocks down from Talk of the Town, the friendly little café owned by Matt Soarez’s pretty fiancée, Faith. Harlan was glad Alexis had expensive tastes—if he’d met his ex-wife at Talk of the Town, news of the meeting would be all over town by sunset.

Meeting her at Bella Rosa meant the news would take a few more days to circulate, giving him time to come up with a story that didn’t make him look like a grade-A sap.

She was sitting at a table near the back, her honey-blond hair twisted into a neat, attractive coil at the base of her neck. She arched one perfect eyebrow at his casual attire—he’d seen no reason to change out of his jeans and golf shirt just to have lunch with his ex-wife—but waved him over.

“What’s up?” he asked without preamble, sitting across from her and waving off the waiter who’d practically trailed him to the table.

“You don’t want anything to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Not the exact truth, but he wasn’t hungry enough to eat with her. “Just get to the point.”

She took a deep breath and folded her neatly manicured hands over each other. “I’m getting remarried.”

Harlan wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but telling him she was getting married again wasn’t it.

“No response?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

“What’s there to say? Congratulations, I guess? Best wishes? I never remember which you say to the bride and which to the groom.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him.

“So I guess this takes me off the hook for any more alimony.”

“I never wanted you to have to pay alimony. I don’t need your money.”

“I don’t think you ever needed anything from me,” he murmured. “Speaking of the groom, I have to admit I’m surprised. I always figured Ted the Contractor as more a fling kind of relationship than anything long-term, but if he makes you happy—”

“I’m not marrying Ted,” she said. “I’m marrying Alden.”

He stared at her. “Alden? Your fifty-year-old shark of a divorce lawyer Alden?”

“Forty-six,” she corrected. “And he’s only a shark in the courtroom. He’s really very sweet. And attentive.”

And I wasn’t attentive, Harlan thought. Of course, I was a little busy at the time, dodging bullets and bombs while fighting for my country, but hey. That’s not your problem, is it, sweetheart?

“How’s your hand?” she asked a moment later. He wasn’t sure if she asked the question just to break the uncomfortable silence or if she really cared.

He flexed his right hand, where the scar tissue from the shrapnel wounds was still pale and tight, limiting his mobility. “About the same. I think therapy’s gotten me about as far as it can. I just have to adjust to the limitations now.”

“I’m sorry you were hurt, but I’m glad it got you out of the Marines,” Alexis said, her chin held high as if bracing herself for his anger.

“Too bad you didn’t wait a few months longer before you slept with the contractor. I’d have had plenty of time to be attentive,” he responded.

She looked hurt by his words. He almost felt guilty, until he remembered the humiliation of walking into his bedroom and finding Alexis naked and wrapped around the muscular contractor Harlan had hired to build their dream home.

“I’ve told you I was sorry you found us that way.”

“But not about having sex with the guy behind my back?”

“You know as well as I do our marriage was doomed. We’re too different. We want different things out of life.”

That much was true. He definitely didn’t want to marry a ruthless divorce lawyer. Matter of fact, he didn’t want to marry anyone at all. Ever again.

Once was enough.

“You flew all the way to Texas to tell me you were getting married?” he asked. “You could have just called.”

“Alden’s attending a conference in Lubbock. I thought it would be better to tell you the news face-to-face.”

He just looked at her, taking in her prom-queen beauty, which hadn’t yet faded with age, and her hopeful expression. She wanted closure. Maybe even absolution.

Would it hurt so much to give it to her?

He forced a smile. “I really do hope you and Alden are happy. And that he stays just as attentive fifty years from now as he is today.”

Her smile in return made her look sixteen years old again, bright and beautiful and everything he’d thought he wanted in life. He’d loved her like crazy once.

But not anymore, he realized with a little shiver of relief. He might still resent her infidelity and her lies, but he didn’t really care who she slept with anymore.

I guess that’s progress, he thought.

“I hope you find someone, too,” she added.

He felt his rising mood deflate again. “I’m not really in the market.”

“Just because our marriage didn’t work out—”

He stood, looking down at her one last time. “Have a good life, Alexis.”

“You, too,” she said.

But he was already headed out the door, stepping into the warm midday breeze blowing in over the western plains.

He looked around him, taking in the friendly facades of the shops and businesses that formed the town square. Old cottonwoods and sprawling oaks lined the streets, giving the place the look of an idyllic oasis in the middle of the arid Texas Panhandle.

He’d taken the job Bart Bellows offered because it was a chance to start over, to see what life would be like outside the Marine Corps and his shattered marriage. Freedom seemed like a great place to make a new life—just as in most small towns, it was hard to stay a stranger for long in Freedom.

But Harlan had never felt more alone.

He checked his watch. A little after two. Half of the day spread out ahead of him, barren and daunting.