Читать книгу Unmasking The Maverick - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 11

Chapter Three

What had he been thinking?

“Tanner, you’re an idiot. Asking the woman to dinner. In payment for services rendered, no less.” And now he was talking to himself. The downward spiral into hell was picking up speed and momentum.

His father must be turning over in his grave about this. He could just hear it. That’s no way to make a living. Since when do we not take money for our work?

Since the woman he did the work for looked like Fiona. That smile... When the tractor engine sputtered to life, she’d looked at him again as if he’d hung the moon. A man could get used to that.

“Knock, knock.”

Brendan turned away from his workbench and saw an older woman standing in the doorway. She was probably in her sixties, not very tall and had shoulder-length silver hair. There was spitfire in her eyes and a blender in her arms.

She moved closer and looked up at him. “Are you Brendan Tanner?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She held out her hand. “Edna Halstead.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Luke Stockton says you can fix anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m pretty good at repairs.” He nodded at the small appliance she was holding. “Having trouble with that?”

“Blasted thing just quit. They don’t make things like they used to. It’s practically new.”

“That’s always the way. I’ll see what I can do.”

She handed it over. “Just when I got my husband to drink protein shakes, too.”

“I’m guessing he’d be just as happy if I couldn’t fix this.” He put the base and pitcher on the workbench then looked back at her still staring at him. “Was there something else?”

“Mind looking at it now? I’d rather not make another trip out here. Unless you’re too busy...”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. I wouldn’t expect it would take long. It isn’t the space station. If it’s a goner, I expect you’ll know that right away.”

“Yeah.” He picked up a small screwdriver to take apart the base.

“I don’t expect a lifetime warranty,” she said. “Still, you should get a little more time out of something.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s not expensive to get another one, but just on general principle I don’t want to do that.”

“No, ma’am.” He checked out all the connections and the cord, then cleaned and tightened anything that looked to be loose while the woman chattered away.

“The thing is, my husband, J.T., and I are retired and on a fixed income, so we have a budget.”

“Understood.”

“Are you military, Mr. Tanner?”

“Was.” And he missed it, even more after losing his dad. He missed his brothers. Missed doing work that was important. Now he had no mission, no focus except to be in the best possible physical shape for reenlisting.

“What branch of the service?” Her eyes glittered with interest.

“Marine Corps.”

“Semper fi. Your service is much appreciated and welcome home.”

“Thank you.” He stopped working and met her gaze. “Were you in the military?”

She shook her head. “Only by marriage. J.T. was a marine.”

“Vietnam?”

“Did my age give it away?” she teased.

“No, ma’am. What is it they say? Fifty is the new forty?”

She laughed. “I’m a little north of that. Almost seventy. And you know it.”

“Doesn’t show. And what I know is a lot of service members who served their country during that conflict were never properly welcomed home. That wasn’t right.”

“No.” Her mouth pulled tight for a moment. “Since then folks have learned to separate service to country from politics. Hopefully that will never happen again. Some make the ultimate sacrifice. Others live with physical disabilities.”

Something in her expression said she knew about that. “Your husband?”

“He lost a leg—above the knee.”

“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me that. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like I lived through the Revolutionary War. Edna, Ed or Eddie will do.”

“Yes, ma—” He saw her glare and stopped. “Eddie.”

“Good choice.” She grinned. “And don’t be feeling sorry for J.T. He’s taken it in stride, if you’ll pardon the pun. He’s one tough marine. The few—”

“The proud. The Marines,” he finished.

“Oorah.”

He closed up the blender base. “There’s no real obvious sign of trouble. I tightened a few loose wires and made sure the rest was shipshape. Let’s plug it in and see.”

“Sure do hope you’re as good as Luke claims.”

“Here goes.” He saw her cross her fingers.

He plugged in the blender and with one last look at her he pushed a button. The thing came to life and the woman smiled her appreciation.

“Looks like you’re back in the protein shake business,” he told her. “Hope your husband is happy, too.”

“He’d rather have his bacon, eggs and fried potatoes. But we have a deal. A healthy breakfast earns a scoop of ice cream after dinner.”

“Seems fair.”

“He doesn’t think so but we both know who the commanding officer is.”

“Skipper.” Brendan saluted. “Only an idiot would mix it up in a skirmish like that.”

“Speaking of idiots...” There was a gleam in her eyes. “What woman did you ask to dinner?”

He froze. “What?”

“You were mumbling to yourself about it when I came in.”

“You heard that?” he asked.

“It’s a popular misconception that all old people are hard of hearing. For the record, there’s nothing wrong with my ears. You apparently are having second thoughts about asking a woman to dinner. So I’d like to know what woman we’re talking about and I can tell you whether or not you’re right about being an idiot.”

He already knew he was. He momentarily toyed with the idea of saying we weren’t talking about anything, but something told him Eddie Halstead would have a big problem with that response.

“I fixed a tractor at the Rusty Bucket Ranch earlier today and—”

“Fiona O’Reilly.” It took her all of a second and a half to put it together.

“How did you know?”

“You don’t seem the type to hit on a married woman. Her sisters, Fallon and Brenna, are. To Jamie Stockton and Travis Dalton respectively.” She nodded firmly. “Since Fiona is the last single O’Reilly daughter and lives on the Rusty Bucket Ranch, she must be the woman in question.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“And you’re not an idiot,” she said. “Why would you think so? She’s beautiful, smart and dependable.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Bravo Sierra,” she snapped, using marine slang for BS. “That just means you don’t want to talk about it.”

She was dead-on about that. “Look, if it’s all the same to you—”

“Eddie Halstead.” Luke walked in and gave the older woman a big hug. “I saw your car outside and had to come and say hello.”

“Good to see you, Luke.” She glanced at Brendan. “You were right about him. He fixed my blender.”

“So, J.T. will be back in the business of drinking his breakfast,” the rancher guessed.

“A shake is healthier than bacon and eggs,” she said stubbornly. “Especially if he’s going to keep up with his chores.”

“Eva would agree with that.”

“And my stubborn man isn’t getting any younger. He’s got arthritis in his hands and one good leg. These days, climbing on a ladder is like a combat mission.” She looked from Brendan to Luke. “He’s pretty handy but I don’t like him on a ladder. Ladder fall figures increase with age and physical condition. The man is sixty-eight years old, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Don’t tell him I said that. The point is, he’s too old to be on a ladder even if he had two good legs. Gonna make putting up Halloween decorations a challenge this year.”

“I’d be happy to help out.” Brendan looked at her. “Say the word and I’ll swing by.”

“Come to think of it,” she said as she tapped her lip. “The refrigerator is making a funny noise.”

“Make a list,” he said.

“I would sure appreciate it. The thing is, J.T.’s proud, if you get my drift.”

“Sure do,” Brendan said. “But if he gives you any trouble, just tell him it’s one marine helping out a brother.”

“I don’t want to take up your time,” she said.

“He’s got plenty to spare,” Luke interjected.

“Seems so,” Eddie said. “He just fixed the O’Reilly’s tractor and instead of taking money he’s taking Fiona out to dinner.”

“Well, well.” Luke grinned. “All because of a house call.”

“Marines work fast,” the older woman said.

Luke snapped his fingers. “I just had an idea. You could expand the repair shop and go mobile with it. For the things people can’t drop off.”

“Now why would I want to do that?” Brendan asked.

“Because making money is a good thing,” Eddie said. “Unless you ask all of your customers to dinner. Then you’re flirting with a negative cash flow.”

“Understood,” Brendan told her. “But that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to make long-term plans.”

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Because I’m only here temporarily.”

“Why?” she asked. “You have somewhere better to be?”

That’s what he was here to figure out.

* * *

No matter how many times she reminded herself that Brendan wasn’t staying permanently, Fiona couldn’t tamp down her excitement to see him. Telling herself this wasn’t a date didn’t help, either. For some reason it was how he was taking payment for fixing the tractor.

And that was where her thought process went off the rails. He wouldn’t accept money but wanted to take her to dinner. Maybe he wanted more than that, but she didn’t think so. If that didn’t go to a girl’s head, she was the Queen of England. The logical conclusion was that he wanted to see her. Alone. Without family.

And she was stoked.

She’d even bought a new dress—a hunter green, long-sleeved knit that minimized her curves even as it hugged them. A contradiction that paralleled the coming social occasion she refused to call a date. The dress’s hem teased the top of her new low-heeled, knee-high black leather boots. They were a splurge, but when she got paid for her latest article, her budget would be just fine. Tonight it was important to look like a woman, not a ranch hand.

She checked out her appearance in the full-length, free-standing mirror in her bedroom, the one she used to share with Fallon and Brenna. There were times, like now, when she missed her sisters being around to tell her whether or not the neckline of this dress was too plain and begged for jewelry. If her hair was too curly, too straight or just right. Did her newly perfected smoky eye make her look like a hooker?

Brenna would always flop on the bed and give her two cents. You look too prudish. Lower the neckline, shorten the skirt. Show more skin. A little cleavage couldn’t hurt.

Fiona turned from side to side, studying the way the soft material clung to her breasts. “Make him wonder about what he can’t see,” she told her reflection.

The first time they met she’d looked like a pig wrestler. Yesterday she’d had time to brush her hair and put on some tinted sunscreen along with sheer lip gloss. Tonight she was going for something between demure and dynamite. Just to show him she could. If only her sisters were here to confirm that she’d pulled it off.

Fiona glanced at the clock beside her bed and her heart skipped a beat. He would be here soon. There was still time to tone it down if her mother thought she’d gone too far.

Grabbing her heavy wool shawl and black clutch purse, she headed downstairs, where Maureen O’Reilly was fixing dinner. The kitchen was a big, open room with lots of counter space, a farm sink and a big round oak table with eight chairs. Years ago, when all of them had been under one roof, they’d totaled seven.

Now, Fallon and Brenna were happily married and sharing living space with their respective husbands. Her older brothers, Ronan and Keegan, had bachelor quarters here on the ranch where they worked. The two showed no sign of settling down and it worked for them. Her mother was thrilled to have them close by.

Maureen was checking something in the oven, then straightened and turned when she heard Fiona’s footsteps on the wood floor. “Hey, sweetie. You look beautiful. That emergency shopping trip yesterday afternoon really paid off.”

Fiona looked down at the slightly flared skirt and smoothed her palms over her hips. Unlike Fallon and Brenna, their mother might sugarcoat her opinion.

“You don’t think it’s too—”

“It’s not too anything.” She set pot holders on the counter beside the pot simmering on the stove. “Not too dressy, just casual enough.”

That had been the challenge since Fiona didn’t know where they were going to dinner. “Really?”

“Yes.”

The back door opened and in walked her tall, handsome, brown-haired, blue-eyed brothers. Women were drawn to them like dieters to donuts. And both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her.

Ronan, the oldest, whistled. “Look at you. Got a hot date?”

Brendan was hot, but this wasn’t technically a date. “I’m going out.”

“With who?” Keegan asked.

“No one you know,” she hedged.

“How do you know who we know?” her oldest brother challenged her.

Instead of answering, Fiona blew out a breath and met her mother’s gaze. “Why are they here?”

“It’s pot roast night,” Keegan said, as if that explained why these two, who often fended for themselves, had shown up for dinner.

“So what?” She knew she sounded like a ten-year-old, but it couldn’t be helped. The knuckleheads would not help get her to a Zen place before Brendan showed up. In fact, they’d do just the opposite. “Mom could fix pheasant under glass and the two of you couldn’t be counted on to put in an appearance.”

“Are we unreliable?” Ronan asked his mother.

“Yes.”

He walked over and affectionately slid his arm across her shoulders. “Am I still your favorite?”

“I do not have favorites where my children are concerned. I can, however, confirm that you are still the oldest of five.”

“And Fiona is the oldest girl.” There was a teasing gleam in Keegan’s eyes that women seemed to find adorable, if Rust Creek Falls gossip was anything to go by. “She’s the only one of my sisters still here for dinner. Oh, wait, she’s wearing a dress. The world has gone crazy.”

“I’ve changed my mind—” she started to say before Keegan interrupted her.

“Along with your tomboy look.”

“It’s official,” she said. “Brenna isn’t the dramatic one. You are.”

“I’m Irish.” Keegan grinned. He was awfully cute when he did that. “Drama is a badge of honor.”

“And so is being good with words,” Ronan pointed out. “Which you are, sis. You’ve verbally danced around the question of who you are going out with. Now, fess up. Who did you put on a pretty new dress for tonight?”

“What are you? The fashion police? You don’t know that it’s new.” Since when did he get hit with the observant stick?

“You’re deflecting again,” he countered. “This could be serious.”

“Or, to say it a different way,” Keegan chimed in, “what poor, unsuspecting guy are you trying to snag?”

“That’s ridiculous,” she countered.

“Is it?” He arched an eyebrow and held up three fingers while he ticked off his reasons. “Oldest girl. Still not married. Pushing the big three-oh.”

“I’d like to push you off a cliff,” she mumbled. “And for your information, not that you deserve any consideration, but I am not looking for a husband. I don’t need one to enjoy a full and happy life.”

“That’s very enlightened of you.” Keegan nodded approvingly. “I could have told you that. All you had to do was ask.”

“Can we talk about the fact that you’re alone?” Fiona made a scoffing sound. “Because, judging by your track record, you are the very last person I would take advice from.”

“Why me?” There was mock innocence on her brother’s face. “Ronan is the one who set you up with Tate Gibbs.”

A new guy in town that he’d met at Ace in the Hole, the local cowboy bar. The jerk had turned out to be a liar and cheat.

She noticed a guilty expression on her oldest brother’s face. In spite of her annoyance with these two, she didn’t want him to feel bad about what happened. Ultimately she’d made the choice to fall for her ex. It was her own bad judgment that got her heart broken. Lesson learned.

“I’m not looking to get married,” she said firmly. “I’ve stopped looking for a man. Period.”

“Keep an open mind, honey.” Up until now their mother had stayed out of the verbal volley and simply listened. Now, though, she stepped in. “When you least expect it, that’s when love will happen. When you’ve stopped looking, it will find you.”

Another tired saying that should be stitched on a sampler and hung on the wall. Fiona envied her parents’ thirty-plus years of marriage. They were still happy and deeply in love, stealing kisses like teenagers when they thought no one was watching. More than once someone would teasingly tell them to get a room. But that kind of love was exactly what she wanted. It just didn’t seem as if it was in the cards for her. And there was no way she’d settle for less.

Brendan Tanner was intriguing, she would give him that. And there was something inherently heroic about him. The way he’d handled little Jared with patience and kindness spoke to how he would be with kids of his own. And the fact that he was taking her to dinner instead of letting her pay him to fix the tractor made him seem like a really good man. But she’d been wrong before.

He was basically another stranger in town and she was definitely against getting burned again. He was certainly a pretty package and she was curious about him. But her only goal was one nice evening out.

Before she could tell the boys to go jump in the lake, the back door opened again and her father walked in, followed by his dog, Duchess. Paddy O’Reilly was a big, handsome man and his sons took after him. That was even more painfully clear when he stopped and stared at her the way they had.

“No one told me we were dressing up for dinner tonight,” he said, absently rubbing the dog’s golden head.

“Fiona’s not eating here,” Maureen told him.

“She has a date but won’t tell us who she’s going out with,” Keegan informed his father.

“Whoever he is, he’s a very lucky man.” Paddy’s eyes were filled with paternal pride. “You’re the image of your mother and she had the men falling all over themselves for a chance with her.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Fiona felt a lump in her throat.

“So who is this fortunate fella?” His eyes twinkled, proof he knew he wasn’t fooling her. Information was what he wanted. “Are we going to have an opportunity to meet him?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Oh, dear God. He would be here any minute and she wanted to spare him the awkward family once-over. Now the guardians of the Galaxy were standing shoulder to shoulder, ready to grill the guy. The poor man had done them a favor and this was how they repaid him!

With her shawl and purse in hand, she turned on her heel and hurried to the living room, planning to slip out the door. But the plan was doomed to failure and if she wasn’t so darn nervous that would have been clear to her.

All of them followed in her wake, including her mother. They were assembled behind her like the Atlantic Wall on D-day. And before she could even tell them to back off, there was a firm knock on the front door.

This was going to be a disaster. The worst part was that she actually cared her night was going up in flames. And not in a good way.