A Texas Soldier's Family (5 page)

Hope shared Garrett’s obvious concern.

Bess threw up her hands in frustration. “I did not receive either one, and my subsequent calls went unreturned.”

Noting Max appeared to be reaching for Hope, Garrett finally handed her son over. “When was the last time you contacted the foundation?” he asked in a low, rough tone that sent shivers of awareness sliding down Hope’s spine.

“Several months ago. Anyway.” Bess stood, signaling their time had come to an end. “If you’re worried I’m going to complain to the media, you needn’t. I don’t want what we’re trying to do here to be any part of the bad publicity. I just want what was promised to us. That’s all.”

* * *

“W
HY
DIDN
’
T
YOU
reassure her you’d make things right?” Hope asked Garrett when they had left the hospital. She settled Max in his safety seat, then climbed into the passenger seat, once again letting Garrett drive since he knew the area better.

His broad shoulders flexed. He draped an arm along the back of the seat as he reversed the SUV out of the parking space. He paused to look her in the eye before shifting into drive. “Bess Monroe has suffered enough empty promises, don’t you think?”

“You’re on the board of directors, along with the rest of your family.” Which meant he had sway.

“If someone has been stealing money from the foundation, there’s no telling how much is actually left.”

A breath-stealing notion. That the fifty-million-dollar Lockhart Foundation could be bankrupt was one she hadn’t allowed herself to consider, until now. “So, what are you going to do?”

Garrett put the SUV in drive and turned out onto the street. “Wait for the results of the audit, look at everything, figure out where we stand. Then we’ll make decisions on a priority basis.”

“Kind of like a financial triage.”

He nodded. “As far as right now...I need to drop by the real estate agency in town that is going to list my properties. The broker said it shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to sign the papers.” He gave her a second look. “If it’s okay with you and Max. He’s been a trouper so far.”

“That he has. As opposed to last night...”

“I gather he doesn’t normally wake up four times during a single night?”

So Garrett had noticed. “To nurse? No, he doesn’t. But he was hungrier than usual last night.”

In fact, they’d both been a little wound up.

Garrett shook his head fondly. “All that travelling.”

“And being out on the ranch.” She lifted a hand. “I’m kidding. He’s a little young for any cowboy activity.”

“I don’t know.” Garrett rubbed his jaw. “I could see him up on a horse someday.”

So could she, oddly enough.

Garrett and herself, too.

Which was why she needed to put some barriers between them. Pronto.

* * *

“Y
OU
’
RE
SURE
YOU
don’t want to come in with me?” Garrett asked, parking in front of the realtor’s office.

“Actually, I’d like to stay out here and change Max’s diaper.”

He nodded. “I’ll make it quick.”

And he did. By the time she had finished, he was returning, folder full of papers in hand, a frown on his face.

She knew how it felt to face one difficulty after another. Despite her earlier resolve, her heart went out to him. “Problem?” she asked lightly, putting Max back into his car seat.

He climbed behind the wheel. “My tenants moved out a week ago and left the house in a mess, which wasn’t a surprise, since they stiffed me on the final month’s rent.” He drew in an exasperated breath. “And there’s a leak in the office building, which could mean substantial repairs before it can be put on the market.”

Hope figured she owed him a favor, given how much help he had given her with Max. “You want to run by and quickly look in on both properties before we go back to the ranch?”

He exhaled in relief. “The office building first.”

It was several blocks from the hospital, toward the edge of Laramie. Built of the terra-cotta brick popular many years past, it was three stories high and rectangular in shape. Inside, there were obvious leaks on the ceiling and one of the three elevators bore an Out of Order sign. All but two of the tenants had left, and they had signs up announcing their upcoming moves to other spaces.

Garrett grimaced. Hope could understand why. This was not going to be easy to sell, unless he wanted to severely undervalue it. She resisted the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. “I’m guessing you had no idea it was this bad?”

Despite the tense circumstances, Garrett still managed to grin down at Max, who was trying to grab on to his shirt. “Let’s put it this way. My dad always said the best deals were the opportunities no one else recognized or properly valued. And he was all about getting the best deal.”

“Sounds like a hedge fund manager.”

Garrett moved close enough to let Max latch on to his pinkie finger. He beamed proudly when Max met his goal.

Lucille’s eldest son might not know it, Hope thought, a ribbon of warmth curling through her, but he had real daddy potential.

Oblivious to her admiring thoughts, Garrett continued, “My dad felt the same way about his personal life. He and my mom never bought a home they didn’t plan on fixing up until it doubled in value.”

Max rocked his tiny body toward their companion, as if signaling he wanted to be picked up. Garrett took her son in his arms. Watching, Hope’s heart melted a little more.

Garrett shifted his palm a little higher, carefully supporting Max’s back, shoulders and head. “My dad also felt people never really appreciated something unless they had to work for it.”

“So the properties you and your siblings inherited...?” Hope asked, inhaling Garrett’s brisk masculine scent as they walked through the building.

“All had good long-term value. And a heck of a lot of work to be done.” He handed Max back to Hope, then paused to hold the door open.

“I’m guessing the house you were gifted is in the same shape as this office building.”

“Let’s put it this way. Just now, the listing agent said it had great potential.”

“Code for fixer-upper?”

“Probably.”

The heat of his smile made her tingle. “You haven’t been there, either,” she guessed.

Garrett fell into step beside them as they made their way to the parking area. “I’ve seen pictures. But at the time I inherited it, it was rented and I was stationed overseas, so...no. I haven’t seen it.” He touched her son’s cheek. “Think the little guy can handle one more excursion?”

The question was, could
she
handle it? Already she felt a lot closer to Garrett. Not good when she was supposed to be keeping her distance. As their eyes met and held, Hope felt a shimmer of tension between them. Man–woman tension.

“We’d both love to see the second part of your inheritance,” she murmured.

Located a half block away, the house was a large white Victorian with a wraparound porch. Inside it was, indeed, a mess. Trash in every room. Dust and cobwebs in every corner. Bathrooms that pretty much defied description. And yet...

Hope studied the original woodwork, high ceilings and a plethora of windows in the century-old home. The house had multiple fireplaces. Gorgeous wood floors just begging to be refinished. A backyard made for entertaining.

Garrett turned to her, a peculiar look on his handsome face. “Like it...?”

Love it. Adore it.
Hope shrugged, for all their sakes, pretending she wasn’t head over heels in love with this property. Wasn’t imagining herself and Max living in a place just like it someday. With a man just as kind and sexy and good-hearted, just as fundamentally decent as Garrett.

Realizing she was getting
way
ahead of herself, Hope forced her errant thoughts aside as they moved through the downstairs. It was post-pregnancy hormones. That was all.

She cleared her throat. “If you were to get a good cleaning crew in here...”

He stepped closer and her heart kicked into gear. “Or do it myself.”

His pronouncement stopped her in her tracks. She did a double take. “
You’d
tackle this?” What was he, some sort of superhero Alpha Man?

The tiniest smile played around the corners of his chiseled lips. His gaze locked with hers. “I’ve tackled a lot of things in some of the places I’ve lived. I don’t mind.”

Something else to admire about him, Hope noted dreamily. The fact that he’d been born rich but could easily be comfortable in less luxurious circumstances.

She pushed the burgeoning attraction away.

She had to focus.

Had to remember he was the son of a client, nothing more. And speaking of the work she was supposed to be doing at this very second, she asked, “Are you going to have time to do that?”

“I’ve got another twenty-seven-and-a-half days of leave left. So, yeah, I can and will do what is needed to get both properties on the market before I leave Texas.”

And when that happened, when the crisis was over, her job finished, Garrett off to a job in either Seattle or DC, they’d likely never see each other again.

Nor would she have a reason to come back to the Circle H Ranch or Laramie County.

She had to remember that.

Stop fantasizing about what would never be.

She turned back to find Garrett studying her. “Problem?” he asked softly.

Not if I keep the proper perspective.
Hope shook her head. “I’m just anxious to get back to the ranch. See how your mother and Adelaide are faring.”

Chapter Five

Garrett walked into the Circle H bunkhouse, a wide-awake and slightly cranky Max snuggled in his big, strong arms. He took a moment to survey the scene. “Mom, you look like hell. You, too, Adelaide.”

“Garrett!” Hope reprimanded him. She’d heard he was blunt, but wow! Although, she admitted reluctantly to herself, he was right.

In the three hours since she and Garrett had been gone, the long plank table had exploded with disorganized stacks of paperwork and multicolored file folders. Both women looked pale and completely overwhelmed. With his mother in her late sixties, and Adelaide’s pregnancy, he was right to be concerned.

“When’s the last time you-all ate?” he asked, reluctantly handing Max over to Hope.

The baby immediately began to fuss.

“I don’t know.” Adelaide and Lucille exchanged baffled looks. “Brunch, I guess, on the drive here.”

“It’s early, but you’ve got to have some dinner,” Garrett decreed. “So we can either get back in the car and drive to town...”

All three women groaned at the thought of a twenty minute ride to Laramie and back. Never mind the time it might take to get seated, order and be served their meal. It would easily eat up a couple of hours.

Garrett headed for the kitchen. “Then I’m cooking.”

If he cooked as well as he put together a sandwich, they were in luck. Eager to help, Hope said, “I need to feed Max and put him down. Then I’ll give you a hand.”

Garrett opened the fridge. “Take your time,” he said over his shoulder. “I got this.”

And he did, she found out some forty minutes later, when she emerged from the guest room where her son was fast asleep.

One end of the table had been cleared to allow for seats for four. Adelaide and Lucille had stopped working and were carrying table settings and the rest of the meal to the table.

Garrett was coming in through the mud-room door, a platter of burgers and roasted corn in hand. “I didn’t know there was a grill out back,” she said.

“A patio, glider and some outdoor rocking chairs, too,” Lucille informed her. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice that when you got here.”

She might have, had it not been so late and she so enamored of her host’s handsome son. If she hadn’t taken time out to kiss him...

Guilt flooding through her, Hope shrugged.

Garrett’s eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he, too, were recalling their steamy embrace and coveting another.

Wary of revealing herself, Hope quickly glanced away. Garrett gestured for everyone to have a seat. As they ate, he brought his mother up to date on their meeting with Bess Monroe.

“Sadly, her story matches the records I have,” Lucille admitted unhappily.

“And those of many others,” Adelaide concurred with a worried frown. “Although we’ve yet to go through everything.”

“What have you learned for sure?” Hope asked, wondering if there were any concrete facts she could work with to build a compelling narrative.

Hesitating, Adelaide looked over at Lucille, who nodded at her to continue. “A year ago, the foundation had fifty million in assets. Today, the foundation has only twenty-five million.”

“Which is as it should be,” Lucille said, “since we decided to give out twenty-five million in aid last year.”

“So, where did the twenty-five million dollars go, if not all of it went to the earmarked charities?”

“We’re still working on that.”

“Meaning you think there is fraud involved.” Garrett helped himself to a tangy vinegar-based coleslaw he’d found in the fridge.

“Certainly something untoward has gone on,” the forensic accountant finally said.

“What, though, we don’t yet know,” Lucille said, cutting into a slice of watermelon. “The important thing is not to jump to any conclusions until we can show everything we have gathered to Paul.”

The foundation CFO really needed to be there.
Now.
“When is he returning to Dallas?” Hope asked.

Adelaide exhaled. “My dad told me before he left he would be back home on Saturday afternoon, at two o’clock.”

Or in roughly forty hours, Hope calculated, savoring the flavor of char-grilled beef and melted cheddar cheese nestled in a fresh brioche bun.

“We’re planning to meet him at his home and bring him back to the ranch.” Lucille looked pointedly at her son, clearly wanting a change of subject. “In the meantime, Sage called while you were out to check on things here and deliver her news.”

“Something good, I gather?” Garrett added another burger to his plate.

Lucille beamed. “She’s decided to move back to Texas as soon as she can arrange everything.”

“Where in Texas?” Garrett asked.

“Here in Laramie, to her inheritance.”

Garrett put down his fork. “Meaning...?”

“If the only reason you’re considering moving to Seattle is to be close to your sister—don’t.”

Garrett sipped his iced tea. “Point taken, Mom.”

An uncomfortable silence fell.

Hope wasn’t sure what was going on. Was this Lucille lobbying for her son to move back to Texas? She’d told Hope she missed her children terribly. Wanted them all close to her again.

Enough to create a faux crisis with the foundation?

No, Hope immediately dismissed the notion. Whatever was going on here was real. And devastating. She had only to look at the shadows beneath Lucille’s eyes to know that.

Garrett turned their conversation back to his little sister. “Does that mean Sage’s finally given up on TW?”

Maybe it was the intimate setting, or the fact that Lucille had allowed Hope into her family’s inner sanctum, at least long enough so that Hope could do her job, which compelled her to come right out and ask, “Who is TW?”

Adelaide sighed. “Terrence Whittier. This systems architect Sage has been following around for what...? Seven years now?”

Lucille nodded, clearly dismayed.

Garrett looked equally grim. “TW’s made all sorts of promises to her, but kept none of them.”

Lucille turned to her son. “I’ve taken a page from your book, in this instance, and said it as bluntly as I can. Time is running out if Sage wants to meet someone else, get married and have a family.”

Adelaide lifted a staying hand. “TW and Sage did break up two years ago, Lucille.”

“But Sage didn’t leave Seattle.” Lucille fretted.

Garrett defended his sister. “She had just started her cowgirl chef business up there, Mom. It was going great.”

Hope could understand not wanting to leave that.

Lucille worried the strand of pearls around her neck. “I have a feeling TW came back in her life last winter—at least briefly.”

Garrett assumed his usual poker face. “Did she tell you that?”

“No.” Lucille looked at her eldest son steadily. “She didn’t have to tell me. I’m a mother. I just know these things.”

* * *

“I
S
THAT
THE
way it is?” Garrett asked Hope later, when they were alone once again. His mother and Adelaide had gone to bed, vowing to get up early and pick up where they had left off.

He followed her into the mud room, where the washer and dryer were located. Hope wished she could say she was immune to his charm; she wasn’t. There was just something really satisfying about spending time with him, even when they were doing really mundane things like errands, or dishes or, best of all, baby care. “Do mothers just instinctively know things about their kids?” he continued.

Hope sorted baby clothes and blankets into whites and pastel blues and dropped the latter into the tub. Eager to get the spit-up laundered out of all their garments, she added her own similarly hued shirts and pajamas. “Sort of. At least, I do.”

She turned toward him. Inhaling his brisk masculine scent and the mint on his breath, it was all she could do not to think about kissing him again. “I read up a lot on infants and the ways they communicate before Max was born. For instance, when he’s hungry, he makes a
meh
sound. It’s supposed to be
neh
, but I think he’s combining that with Mommy, and it comes out
meh
.”

Garrett grinned at her maternal bragging, as she meant him to.

Proudly, Hope continued, “When Max is sleepy he yawns. And when he has air in the tummy he wants to get out, he makes an
eh
or
earh
sound.”

Garrett rummaged around the cabinet until he produced a bottle of extra-gentle laundry detergent. “When he needs a diaper change?”

The backs of their fingers brushed as he gave the detergent to her. Ignoring the resultant tingle, Hope concentrated on measuring the clear liquid into the cap, then pouring it into the dispenser. “He kicks his legs a lot and says
huh
repeatedly.”

Garrett shifted, his big body exuding warmth in the small space. “Does he get mad at you?”

“Sometimes.” Hope set the dials, switched on the washer, then left the room before being with him in the small space revved up her latent desire and them falling into each other’s arms again. “Like when we’re driving somewhere and I can’t stop until we get there. Although,” she added, continuing into the kitchen to help herself to one last glass of milk before bed, “if Max has to wait more than five minutes for me to be able to stop and get him out of his car seat, the motion of the vehicle usually lulls him to sleep.”

Garrett surprised her by pouring himself a glass of milk, too. “So, even when you do have to drive a little longer than Max would like, it’s not so bad.” He stepped into the pantry, emerging with a bag of gourmet butter cookies.

Hope accepted one. “For either of us.” Keeping her voice low, so as not to wake anyone, she stepped out onto the front porch of the bunkhouse. There, she could hear Max if he cried.

The night was warm and breezy, the velvety black Texas sky was sprinkled with stars surrounding a brilliant yellow quarter moon.

Leaning against a porch post, she looked over at Garrett, who seemed to be enjoying the late summer evening on the ranch as much as she was.

His gaze roved the messy confines of the knot on the top of her head. “Have you heard from your nanny?”

Aware she hadn’t done a very good job of putting her hair up in an elastic band before she’d nursed Max the last time, Hope set her glass on the rail. Determined to appear at least a little more professional, and less Mommy On Vacation, she reached up and shook her hair out, combing it with her fingers as best she could.

“Mary Whiting? Yes. She emailed me this afternoon. Her mom’s heart surgery was successful,”

Which was really great—for Mary and her family.

“But it’s going to be at least a six-to eight-week recuperation. And Mary is going to stay with her family to help out.”

Which was really bad—for her and Max.

“Can you get another nanny?”

“The agency is already sending me candidate profiles for an interim replacement.”

He came near enough she could feel his body heat. “But...?”

Ignoring the melting sensation in her tummy, Hope lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s going to be hard to replace, even temporarily. She was perfect with Max. He hasn’t bonded with anyone so readily except yo—uh...er...”

Oh, darn, had she really almost said that?

Apparently, judging by the supreme masculine satisfaction emanating from him, she had.

* * *

D
ELIGHTEDLY
TRACKING
THE
flush that started in her chest and crept up to her face, Garrett palmed the center of his chest. “Me?”

She thought about trying to deny it but realized that was pointless. “Surely you noticed how much Max loves it when you hold him...”

Garrett shrugged. “I love holding him, too.”

That said, he gazed at her lips. Her breath caught as he took her glass. Set it aside. Bent his head.

The next thing Hope knew she was all the way against him. His arms were wrapped around her. Their mouths were fused.

If anything, this kiss was sweeter than the first they had shared.

Shorter, too.

He drew back. Enough light poured out from the interior of the house that she could see the desire glimmering in his eyes.

She had sure as heck
felt
it in his kiss.

Her chest rose and fell as she tried to find the will to admonish him, but the words just wouldn’t come. So she did the only thing she could. She picked up her glass and disappeared into the house and then her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Garrett knew he was pushing the boundaries Hope had set. But with only a few days to convince her they had something worth pursuing, he had kissed her, anyway.

Felt her respond.

And knew all he had to do was continue getting to know her—and her adorable little son—and let the rest of the situation play out. Go from there.

In the meantime, they all needed sleep, so he headed to bed.

He was awakened at one thirty in the morning, when Max cried.

“Meh...meh...meh...”

Which meant, Garrett knew now, Max was hungry.

The house fell silent once again.

Which meant Hope was nursing.

Two hours later, Max woke again, demanding to be fed. Eventually the house grew quiet.

At five thirty, Max woke for the third time in six hours. “Meh...meh...meh...” And this time, he wouldn’t stop.

Garrett lay in bed, wondering if he should offer to help, or stay put and let Hope deal with it as expertly as she usually did.

The sound of the front door opening and a crying Max being carried outside had him vaulting out of bed.

He joined Hope and the baby in the yard.

She was standing with her hand on the car door, tears streaming down her face. And still an apparently hungry—and healthy—Max cried. “Meh, meh, meh.”

“What’s going on?” Garrett asked, gathering the infant into his arms.

Hope was still in her menswear-style pajamas, which were buttoned crookedly up the front, her hair a tousled mess. She had her keys but no purse.

And the tears continued to spill from her eyes. “Max wants to nurse again,” she sobbed softly, “and my breasts are dry!”