Bright Eyes (9 page)

Not a mere flame, he decided, but a wildfire, and only a fool would get burned.

The following morning when Zeke opened the front door at eight o’clock, he found the same sullen helper standing on his porch, the only difference being that today his shoes were tied.

“ ’Morning,” Zeke said, pulling the door wide.

Chad offered no response. Mouth thinned to a bitter line, he stepped over the threshold. Zeke was bewildered. They’d parted on good terms yesterday.

“So how’s it going?” Zeke tried.

“The same way it always goes.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Chad hunched his shoulders and kicked at the carpet.

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“That’s good,” Zeke replied. “I’m feeling lazy this morning. All I’m having is cereal.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to work?”

Zeke chuckled. “Not an option, bucko. Sorry.”

“People shouldn’t have to work on Sunday.”

“You a churchgoer?”

“Not anymore. We used to go every Sunday, but now that we live way out here, we can’t afford the gas.”

Zeke knew how that went. His parents had seen some really tough times when he was a kid. “I’m sorry things are so difficult right now.”

“Why should you feel sorry? It’s no skin off your nose.”

Chad preceded him into the kitchen, flopped onto a chair, and stared glumly at the floor.
Okay,
Zeke thought.
Back to square one
. He’d foolishly hoped that he and the boy were becoming friends.

As Zeke filled a bowl with Cheerios and milk, he said, “You want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever happened that has you feeling so low?”

Chad tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes. “What good would that do?”

Zeke wasn’t much for talking about things himself. “Sometimes it helps.”

“It won’t help me.”

Zeke accepted that with a shrug. “Fine. Just thought I’d offer.”

Chad stared out the window, his expression revealing nothing but anger.

“I tried to call my dad again last night,” he finally revealed.

“Ah.”

“All I get is his voice mail on every phone. I think he’s screening my calls because he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Zeke had no idea what to say. The only sounds were the ticking of the wall clock and an occasional faint crackle as the cereal absorbed milk.

“Maybe he’s just very busy right now,” Zeke suggested.

Chad’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Maybe.”

Zeke grabbed the sugar dispenser and generously sprinkled the cereal. He wished he could think of something more to say. This boy was hurting, and his pain might get worse before it got better. He busied himself with eating.

Between bites, he said, “I had a visit from your sister last night.”

“I heard. Aunt Valerie says she convinced you to let her and Mom help work off my debt. You don’t have to do that.” Chad turned the cereal box to stare blindly at the list of ingredients. “I’m not a baby. I don’t need my mom to bail me out.” He shot Zeke a burning look. “She doesn’t know the first thing about power tools and fence building. All she’ll do is screw things up.”

Zeke had his own reservations about the new arrangement, namely that he’d be seeing more of Natalie than he wished, but he refrained from saying so. “With power tools, there’s a learning curve for everyone.” Chad had never touched one himself until yesterday. “I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it.”

“Hello. She’s a female. My dad never let her do anything. He told her to go paint her fingernails and keep out of the workmen’s way.”

“That’s your dad, not me. I grew up on a ranch.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Everything. If not for my mother, my dad would have been sunk. There wasn’t anything on the spread that she couldn’t do as well as a man.”

“My mom isn’t like that. All she can do is sing.”

Zeke felt fairly sure that Chad was selling his mother short, but for the moment, at least, he chose to let it slide. “We’ll be nicely entertained while we work, then.”

Anger flared in Chad’s eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to spend that much time with her. Did you think of that?”

Careful, Zeke
. “Don’t the two of you get along?”

Chad’s jaw hardened, and his dark eyes went bright with tears. “I
hate
her. My dad won’t come see me or answer my phone calls. It’s all her fault.”

Zeke lost his appetite and shoved away the bowl. A smart man would keep his mouth shut. He was no child psychologist, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. On the other hand, he couldn’t erase from his memory the things Rosie had revealed to him last night.

“I don’t think you’re giving your mom a fair shake, Chad.”

“What do you know?”

“She can’t be blamed for the choices your father is making right now.”

“He’s making those choices because of her. She’s a total bitch to him.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Your dad doesn’t have to deal with her. He could make arrangements to pick you up for visitation at the end of the driveway or in a store parking lot. He’s also entitled to talk to you on the phone several times a week without interference.”

“Tell that to my mom.”

“It’s the law,” Zeke retorted, “and I’m sure your mother is aware of it. After a divorce, animosity between parents is common. The courts protect a noncustodial parent’s right to see his kids without a hassle. If your mother causes trouble, your father has legal recourse to make her stop.”

Chad brushed at his cheek. “If that’s true, why hasn’t he done it, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”

“Yeah, like, when?” A muscle in Chad’s cheek twitched as he clenched his teeth. “How can I talk to him about anything when he won’t take my calls?”

Zeke had no answers. He only knew that he was coming to detest Robert Patterson without ever having met the man. Chad’s anger and bitterness toward his mother spelled nothing but trouble. Zeke had seen the results—a sturdy door that this boy had broken with a kick of his foot, signifying a consuming, helpless rage that couldn’t be contained.

On what or on whom would the boy’s anger be unleashed next?

Chapter Five

T
wo hours late
. Natalie couldn’t believe she’d slept until after nine. She had set the alarm for seven, hoping to be up and ready to go when Chad left the house, but the buzzer hadn’t gone off.

“It’s okay if we’re late, Mommy,” Rosie said. “Mr. Coulter won’t be mad.”

For Chad’s sake, Natalie hoped not.

Bending to pick some blue lupine, Rosie launched into a one-sided discussion about wildflowers. Trudging beside the child, Natalie barely attended the discourse. Absurd as it was, she felt nervous about seeing Zeke again. When they’d been at odds, she’d had no problem ignoring how attractive he was. But that had changed with his visit to the club last night.

His apology had caught her off guard, and his compassion for Chad had disarmed her. The next thing she knew, she’d been talking with him about Robert’s failings as a parent. Normally, she was a very private person. It wasn’t like her to reveal family secrets to a man she barely knew. Even more alarming was the inescapable fact that he’d made her pulse race when he looked at her.

Not good.
She needed to get control of these feelings before they took control of her. Only for some reason, she couldn’t tamp down this girlish sense of excitement. It was similar to the way she’d felt when she first met Robert, and just look where that had gotten her.

It takes two to tango,
she reminded herself.
I’m perfectly safe.
How likely was it that Zeke Coulter was attracted to her? After slathering on makeup and stuffing herself into a flashy dress that hid a multitude of sins, she could look pretty good under the right lighting. But that wasn’t the real Natalie. Offstage, without all the makeup and glitter, she was a very ordinary woman with an average IQ, so-so looks, a crazy family, and a hectic, boring life.

She tugged at the shirt she’d filched from Pop’s closet. Why hadn’t she looked at it more closely before she threw it on? It had grease stains on the front. Even worse, her old jeans were so tight at the waist she could barely breathe, a harsh reminder of the twenty pounds she’d gained with two pregnancies. She must be out of her mind to worry about the impression she might make on the handsome bachelor next door.
Reality check.
Zeke Coulter probably had a little black book filled with the phone numbers of beautiful women. He wouldn’t care how Natalie looked, only how hard she worked.

“Are you all right, Mommy?”

Natalie hauled in a calming breath. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just tired from rushing around to get ready.”

When they reached Zeke’s place, Natalie slowed her pace and pushed at her hair. She wished she’d had time to find a nicer top and put on some makeup. They circled the shop to find Chad and Zeke preparing to take a break.
Fabulous
. The troops had arrived at quitting time.

Zeke looked delicious in scuffed Tony Lama boots, faded Wranglers, and a red cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled back over his tanned, muscular forearms. Tousled by the morning breeze, his chocolate-brown hair lay over his high forehead in lazy waves. The sunlight played on his face, accentuating the sharp bridge of his nose, the chiseled slope of his cheekbones, and the square angle of his jaw.

Natalie took a deep breath and forced away her tension, a trick she’d learned years ago when she first experienced stage fright. “Good morning!” she called brightly. “Sorry we’re so late. I set my alarm, but it didn’t go off.” She sent her son a querulous look. “Someone forgot to wake me when he got up.”

Chad, who’d just finished rinsing out a paintbrush, dried his hands on a red shop rag. “How was I supposed to know you wanted to come with me?”

“You’ll know tomorrow,” Natalie replied.

She forced herself to look at Zeke. Even from across the yard, his eyes had an unsettling effect on her. They were a clear, sky blue, almost startling in contrast to his burnished skin. His expression revealed nothing as his gaze settled on her face, then drifted slowly downward to take in the smudges on her shirt. “You worked last night. I didn’t expect you until around noon.” He gestured toward a shady oak at the edge of the yard. “We were about to take a break. I made some punch. Care to join us?”

Natalie preferred to stay busy. “Oh, I don’t—”

“I love punch!” Rosie said.

Twinkling amusement warmed Zeke’s eyes as he met Natalie’s gaze. “It sounds as if you’re outvoted.”

Natalie stared after her daughter as she scampered across the grass. Zeke reached down to tousle the little girl’s hair as she bounced by. “How are you this morning, young lady?”

Rosie spun to a stop, looking adorable in faded floral pants that had grown too short and a pink top with bunnies on the front. “I’m fine. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for everyone else in my family.”

Natalie guessed what was coming and frantically searched her brain for something, anything to say that might steer the conversation in another direction.

“Really?” Zeke smiled sympathetically. “Is someone sick?”

“Not sick, exactly,” Rosie replied. “Aunt Valerie woke up with the cramps. Poppy says a grumpy old bear would be easier to get along with.”

Zeke’s expression went from inquiring to deadpan. It was a look that Natalie had seen on the faces of many adults. No one, it seemed, knew quite how to handle her precocious daughter.

“Hmm. I’m sorry to hear she isn’t feeling well,” Zeke finally said.

Rosie sighed. “She usually gets better in a day or so. Gramps’s hemorrhoids are another matter.”

Not
that,
Natalie thought. But before she could interrupt, Rosie blurted, “He’s very forgetful and misplaces things. This morning he can’t find his Preparation H.”

Zeke’s mouth twitched. “You don’t say?”

Rosie rolled her eyes. “Mommy and I looked everywhere. Poppy thinks he got it confused with his jock itch ointment and rubbed it on his cro—”

“Rosie!”
Natalie cried.

Her daughter sent her an innocent look. “What?”

“There are some things you shouldn’t discuss outside our family.”

“Why?” Rosie angled an inquiring look at Zeke. “Haven’t you ever heard of hemorrhoids and jock itch?”

Zeke didn’t look at all certain how to respond. “I have, actually.”

“There, you see, Mommy? It’s okay.”

Zeke sent Natalie another laughing look. Reluctantly, she followed him and her children to the shade of an oak tree where he’d set out a gallon-size jar of punch and four drinking glasses. He lowered himself to the grass, pressed his broad back to the gnarled tree trunk, and gestured for everyone to join him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I haven’t gotten around to getting lawn furniture yet.”

Before Chad dropped to the ground, he put as much distance between himself and Natalie as possible without sitting in the sun. Then, just in case that was too subtle, he scowled and refused to look at her. Natalie’s heart hurt every time she glanced his way. Chad was still furious because he believed she had neglected to phone his dad. Natalie couldn’t disabuse him of that notion without telling him the truth, that his father couldn’t be bothered with him right now.

Rosie knelt beside Zeke, talking nonstop about things that Natalie preferred she not reveal. Unfortunately, silencing Rosie in chatter mode was nearly impossible. Before the punch had been poured, Zeke knew of Valerie’s recent breakup with her boyfriend, Kevin, and her fruitless job hunt, Poppy’s problem with his lower back, and Natalie’s never-ending battle with her weight.

“Practically all Mommy eats is nonfat yogurt and celery,” Rosie expounded. “Poppy’s afraid she’ll make herself sick.”

As Zeke passed Natalie a glass of punch, he skimmed his gaze over her person. “You look just right to me.”

The mirror told Natalie a different story. Besides, for her dieting was an economic necessity. Her appearance was a tool of her trade. An extra five pounds looked like twenty in a tight, sequined dress, especially under stage lighting. No way was she going to give some inebriated heckler an opportunity to yell, “The show ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings.”

Zeke slumped against the oak, one arm resting on his upraised knee, his other leg extended. The position accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. In the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the leaves, the furring of dark hair on his roped forearm and the back of his dangling hand glistened like spun silk. He had long, thick fingers, the knuckles calloused to a leathery toughness. It was the hand of a working man, broad across the palm, thick at the base.

Taking his measure with sidelong glances, Natalie decided he was as different from Robert as night was from day. Robert had his blond hair professionally styled. His manicured hands were as soft as a woman’s, and he had developed a potbelly from sitting behind a desk. No one would ever mistake him for a workingman.

With a start, Natalie realized that Zeke had caught her staring. She tried to look away, but the magnetic draw of his eyes wouldn’t allow it. For a second that seemed torturously long to her, their gazes locked. Her heart skittered and missed a beat. She couldn’t have moved if someone had jabbed her with a pin.

Oblivious to the undercurrents between Natalie and Zeke, Rosie abandoned her punch to chase after a monarch butterfly. A moment later, she returned with her small hands cupped to her chest.

“Guess what I caught, Mr. Coulter!”

Zeke smiled. “A leprechaun?”

Rosie giggled. “No, silly. Leprechauns are only in Ireland.”

Zeke arched an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“Mommy read me a leprechaun story. You can learn lots of things from books.”

“Maybe someone accidentally brought a leprechaun over from Ireland in a suitcase,” Zeke suggested.

Rosie pursed her mouth, a habitual gesture that had earned her the nickname Rosebud, which, over time, had been shortened to Rosie. “Maybe, but it’s not a leprechaun.”

“Hmm.” Zeke frowned and pretended to think. “A hummingbird?”

“Nope. I’m not fast enough to catch one of those.”

“I’m a lousy guesser. You’ll just have to show me.”

Rosie moved closer and parted her hands. To Natalie’s dismay, a toad jumped out, its fat, warty body hitting Zeke squarely in the face. He jerked so violently that he spilled punch on his Wranglers. “Holy shi—Toledo!” he cried. Then, with lightning-quick reflexes, he recaptured the toad before it hopped away.

Natalie clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Think this is funny, do you?” He angled her an amused look that promised retribution. Then he returned the hapless toad to Rosie’s outstretched hands. “This little fellow eats bugs,” he told the child. “When you’re finished playing with him, turn him loose in what’s left of my garden.”

Rosie scampered away to do that. Chad leaped up to follow her, barking orders as older brothers will, all of which Rosie ignored.

“Not
there.
He needs shade. They live in the mud, dumbbell.”

“I’m not a dumbbell.”

“Are, too!”

“Am not!”

“No name calling, Chad!” Natalie yelled, but the children continued volleying insults as if she hadn’t spoken.

Rosie moved through the garden, which now sported more bare dirt than plants, looking for the perfect place to release her captive. “Toads don’t
live
in the mud,” she informed her brother. “They only burrow into it during the day to keep cool.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes, sir!”

And so it went. Zeke attended the exchange for a moment. “I’d almost forgotten,” he said softly.

“Forgotten what?”

“How kids love to bicker. I was one of six. From dawn ’til dark, there was never a moment’s peace. It’s a wonder my parents aren’t bald from tearing out their hair.”

His friendly, easy manner helped Natalie to relax. She set her glass on the grass beside her and looped her arms around her bent knees. “Six kids? I can’t imagine. Chad and Rosie are bad enough. Sometimes I want to knock their heads together.”

“Times them by three, and you’ll have a fair idea of what my childhood was like. Four brothers and a sister. I’m the second oldest.”

“My sympathy is all with your sister,” she said with a laugh. “How on earth did she survive five brothers?”

“She was the baby. We went pretty easy on her.” His eyes went soft with memories. “Not to hear Bethany tell it, of course. Mostly it was Hank, the youngest of us boys, who gave her a hard time. One against one, she held her own fairly well, giving back as good as she got. I think it was healthy for her, actually. She grew up to be one spunky lady.”

His expression told Natalie that he loved his sister deeply. “And your brothers, what are they like?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “A lot like me in looks, and in other ways as well, I guess. Jake and Hank have a cattle ranch. They also raise and train quarter horses. The twins, Tucker and Isaiah, are vets, specializing in large animals. I own The Works, a ranch-supply store on the west side of town.”

Natalie’s dad had frequently patronized The Works before injuring his lower back. Now he leased out his alfalfa fields to neighboring farmers and lived on the proceeds and monthly stipends from his disability insurance. “I’ve been to The Works. It’s a nice store.”

He shrugged. “It provides me with a good living, and selling ranch supplies is right up my alley. My father is a third-generation cattleman. There’s some truth to the saying that an apple never falls far from the tree, I reckon.”

Natalie found it interesting that all five boys had pursued professions linked to their father’s. “And your sister, what does she do?”

“In addition to being a fabulous wife and mother, she recently opened a riding academy for handicapped kids.”

“What a great idea. A few years back, I saw a television documentary about a riding academy like that. Seeing the joy on those kids’ faces the first time they got in the saddle nearly brought tears to my eyes. It gave them such a sense of freedom. I hope your sister can make a go of it.”

“No worries. She’s married to Ryan Kendrick.”