Love Inspired September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Montana Twins\Small-Town Billionaire\Stranded with the Rancher (13 page)

Just a look from Brody, just a simple touch, created myriad emotions that were both exhilarating and hinted at possibilities.

“I'll let you know,” she said quietly.

“How are the kids doing? I miss seeing them.”

Those four words gave weight to those possibilities. “I think they miss being on the ranch. Corey was fussing the other day and all he could say was ‘Kitty. Please. Kitty. Please.' It was so adorable.” Hannah took a one-handed sip of her coffee and when she set it down, her phone buzzed. She freed her other hand from Brody's and picked up the phone, turning it over. Then she released a gentle sigh when she saw who was calling.

“Who is it? Julie?”

“No. It's David's parents,” she said, biting her lip, debating whether she should answer it or not. She waited another moment, then dropped her phone into her purse, stifling her guilt. “I'm sure they're just checking in. I think they came back from their cruise yesterday.”

She didn't want to think about Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. After Allison Douglas had given her the package of letters she had sent to David, Hannah had put them in a dresser drawer and hadn't looked at them since. Which, of course, made her feel guilty. As if she was abandoning David and his memory.

She shook the feeling off, but a tiny remnant of it lingered.

But, later that evening, when Brody dropped her off and walked her up to her apartment and kissed her good-night, thoughts of David were erased from her mind.

Julie was reading a magazine when Hannah let herself into the apartment. As soon as Hannah closed the door, Julie got up, her eyes wide with anticipation. “So. How did it go?”

Hannah resisted the urge to touch her lips as if anchoring Brody's kiss.

“It went good, but I'm tired,” she said. She gave her friend a benevolent smile. Right now, she wasn't ready to do a postmortem of her date with Brody. Right now, all she wanted to do was go to bed and hold the moments she had spent with Brody close. To savor them alone.

“Sure. Of course.”

Hannah sensed Julie's disappointment, remembering all too well the moments she had spent with Julie discussing her relationship with Ryan and the advice Hannah had given her.

But right now, she didn't want anyone giving her advice. Reminding her of her responsibilities. Right now, she just wanted to be Hannah, Brody Harcourt's girlfriend. Not Hannah Douglas, widow of David Douglas and mother of his twins.

Chapter Nine

“W
heel bearings were shot, too,” Gary Finney said, wiping his hands on a greasy rag that he stuffed into the back of his blue mechanic coveralls. His balding head was streaked with black, as was the perpetual stubble shading his chin. “So I fixed them, as well.”

Hannah could almost hear the flutter of dollar bills leaving her wallet. “And what did that cost?” She ignored the layer of greasy dust on the dented metal table Gary used as a desk for his auto-parts business.

The mechanic part of his enterprise was a small bay in the back of the store. Gary only did auto-mechanic work part-time and, it seemed, only for certain people in town. Though he was related, by way of his grandmother, to the Massey family, he preferred not to let people know that. The Masseys were the other founding family of Jasper Gulch, but Gary always said he was the kind of guy to make it on his own and not trade in on the family's heritage.

Gary shot her an annoyed glance as he handed her the keys. “I'm not charging the widow of the town's local hero.”

David again.

“You're running a business,” she said, pulling the wallet out of her purse. “I can pay for what you did.”

Gary held up a grease-stained hand, his bushy eyebrows glowering over his dark eyes, creating a map of annoyed wrinkles. “You're not going to pay me. I wouldn't feel right. David was a good man.”

He was, Hannah thought, biting back a sigh. But there were times she wished that David would be laid to rest. Yes, she missed him, but she was moving on.

Hannah ignored Gary's protests and pulled out her checkbook. “Please, tell me how much I owe you.”

“You can write that check, but I'll just rip it up,” Gary said gruffly.

Hannah knew when she was beat, but she wasn't going down without a fight. “Okay. I'll let you do this on one condition. You come to the fair tomorrow and bid on a picnic basket and I'll pay for that.” They had already received so many baskets Hannah was getting nervous that they might not have enough bidders.

Gary shot her an annoyed frown. “I don't know about that.”

“If you don't come, I'll be here every day writing you another check. Or dropping dollar bills off on this counter.” Hannah doubted that Gary cared that said bills would probably be well coated with grease.

This netted her another harrumph, which she chose to interpret as reluctant acceptance. “I'll come, but I pay for my own basket, missy.”

“We'll talk about that later. So we'll be seeing you tomorrow night?” She stopped herself from adding a suggestion to clean up and shave. If he showed up, that would be good enough for her.

“I said I'll come,” he grumbled.

She picked up the keys and got in her car. Her day had been a flurry of last-minute activity, reminders to women to bring their completed themed baskets to Abigail so she could store them until the fair. The food ones would be coming the day of the fair. She had hoped to display all of them on a table on the bandstand the day of the fair to create anticipation.

She had spent the rest of the day at the fairgrounds, running interference for the participants, fielding requests for last-minute items. Mayor Shaw wanted her to do some work just before she closed for the night, and Robin and Olivia had needed some information for the town history they were putting together. She had promised her mother she'd be at the apartment to have lunch with her and the twins, but things became too hectic, so she wasn't able to.

Now she was done for the day and on her way to Pastor Ethan's. He had come by the office this afternoon, looking extremely sheepish, saying that his words of bravado to Brody had come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure what to put in the basket.

Since Hannah had to make her own basket anyhow, she told him she would help. Her mother had offered to watch the kids a few extra hours, so it all worked out.

She had already picked up what she needed. Her dear mother, bless her heart, had baked muffins and cookies and squares. All she had to add were wraps and fruit that would stay good until tomorrow. And just to be on the safe side, she had doubled up on some items in case Pastor Ethan needed to fill his, as well.

She walked up the sidewalk to the parsonage, a small white house with brown trim. Welcoming and friendly.

“Come in,” she heard from the depths of the house.

The door opened and Hannah had to grin.

Ethan wore a large, flour-dusted apron that covered him from neck to knees, no small feat for a man as tall as he was. His hands were also coated with flour, and some had made it into his brown hair. Hannah also caught a whiff of something burning.

“Hey. Am I glad to see you!” Ethan stood aside, gesturing for her to come in. “Whoever coined the phrase ‘easy as pie' needs to check the ninth commandment. It's the biggest fib cloaked in three simple words.”

Hannah chuckled as she followed him into the kitchen off the side of the entrance.

“Oh, no. There it goes again.” Ethan rushed to the oven and yanked it open, smoke billowing out. The smoke detector started screeching and Ethan snatched a towel and waved it vigorously below the detector.

Hannah slipped on the oven mitts lying on the counter and quickly yanked the overflowing pie out of the oven, then cast about as to where to set it down, the ear-piercing noise of the detector taking over any available thinking space.

But there was nowhere to put the pie. The counter was strewn with remnants of pie dough and filling. A bag of cookies lay on its side beside a bag of bread and a package of cold cuts. Flour dusted most every surface.

So she set the pie on top of the stove and closed the oven door.

Finally the wailing of the detector quit. Ethan tossed the towel aside and dropped into a nearby chair. “This is a disaster of biblical proportions,” he exclaimed.

Pastor Ethan might be forgiven a bit of hyperbole, Hannah thought as she straightened the bag of cookies and brushed the leftover pieces of piecrust into a pile. “Do you have a cloth I can wipe the counter with?” she asked, running water into the sink.

He told her where and in a few minutes they had the counter cleaned off to create a working space.

“That already looks more promising,” Ethan said, heaving out a sigh. He poked a finger at the pie, which had fallen in, the crust black on one side and a dark brown on the other, its contents still bubbling away through the slits he had made. “This, however, doesn't.”

“I don't think we can salvage it,” Hannah agreed. “But I brought extra supplies along. I have to do my basket, as well.”

“I guess this is what I get for bragging to Brody the other day that baking isn't unmanly.”

“It isn't,” Hannah said, grinning as he picked up the pie and tipped it into the garbage can at the end of the counter. “But maybe it's just not your gift.”

“Obviously not.” He wiped his hands on the front of his apron and watched as Hannah set the grocery bags on the table. “So, what are you doing for your basket?”

“My mother graciously did some baking and I bought some other supplies at Middleton's. The baskets, I bought in Salem last time I was there. I didn't want anyone to recognize them.”

“So what are we putting in them?”

“I had originally thought of doing a strictly food basket, but knowing that today is the only time I have to do it made me rethink the contents and switch to nonperishables. That way, I can give the finished baskets to Abigail and that's off my mind.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ethan said.

“So I thought we could use my mother's baking and add some chocolate, candy bars and these cookies.”

“But I thought the point was that whoever gets the other person's basket has to eat the food with the person.”

“That's how it used to be done, but the logistics of trying to auction off fifty baskets of food seemed too difficult. So I asked half of the people to make themed baskets, the rest food baskets.”

“And if the buyer doesn't get a food basket?”

“I was concerned about that, but the midway is selling hot dogs, hamburgers, corn dogs and funnel cakes, so I'm guessing anyone who doesn't get a food basket won't walk away hungry.”

“Sounds like you've got it all covered.”

“I hope so, though I'm a bit sad it won't be a traditional basket auction like the olden days.” Hannah had spent a lot of time trying to make this work so that there wouldn't be a huge rush of food baskets that would be sitting around too long, but it meant making a few sacrifices where authenticity was concerned.

“And who do you hope bids on your basket?” Ethan asked as he set the two baskets on the table.

Hannah wished her cheeks didn't flame the way they did, and though she ducked her head to hide it, she caught a faint gleam in Ethan's eyes that told her he had caught her lapse.

“Lucky Brody,” he said quietly.

Hannah pulled out the container of muffins her mother had made. “These need to be wrapped in cellophane,” she said, pushing the box of plastic wrap across the table.

“Your mother is feeling better?” Ethan said, his question more of a statement as they tidied up the kitchen.

“Yes. She's taking care of the kids now. Though I have to say I liked seeing them at the ranch with the Harcourts. They sure enjoyed having the kids.”

“And I noticed on Sunday that Brody seems fairly comfortable with your children.”

Hannah felt warmth flood her cheeks again, and she knew she might as well bring up one of the reasons she had come here. “Yes. He is.” She looked down at the cookies she had taken out, rearranging them, fussing with them while she sorted out what she wanted to say. “He seems fond of them, as well.”

Ethan wrapped up a muffin and set it aside. “Somehow, though, I sense some hesitation.”

She tore off another piece of wrap, then gave up and looked over at him. “I don't know what I should feel. I don't know what I should do.”

“What do you mean, what you should feel?”

Hannah blew out a sigh and dropped into the chair behind her. Ethan did the same, resting one elbow on the table, leaning closer, creating a sense of listening and waiting.

“I really care for him.” She caught herself there, knowing that
care
was too small a word to encapsulate the feelings Brody created in her. Feelings that, at times, seemed stronger than the ones she ever felt for David. “It's just I have my kids to think about and I feel like David is still so present... Just before I came here, Gary Finney wouldn't let me pay for my car repairs because I'm the widow of a hero. People keep telling me how bad they feel that David died and what a great guy he was, which he was,” she hastened to add. “I feel like a fraud because I feel guilty about caring for someone else when everyone else seems to want to keep me pegged as David's widow. Like that's who I am. I mean, sure, he and I were together for ages, but I want to be able to let go at some point and I feel like everywhere I turn, David comes back. And I feel guilty because I am ready to move on and I feel like people aren't letting me.”

“I can understand that,” Ethan said. “You don't want that to be your identity. And in a small town it becomes hard to move past the memories, the expectations and even the nicknames. People in a small town know every aspect of your life and, at times, feel like they have a vested interest in what is going on in your life. They remember everything about you and, I suspect, for many people in this town they remember how long you and David were a couple.”

“I think a lot of people still see me as that freckle-faced girl with the frizzy hair who followed David everywhere he went. Plus, I have Allison and Sam Douglas in my life. I feel like they would never approve of someone like Brody, or anyone. Allison has made it no secret that she would be happiest if I stayed single and never married again.”

“You don't need David's mother's approval for what you do,” Ethan said quietly. “You need to make the best choice for you and for your children. But just to give her some leeway, she might be concerned that if you date and marry again, and she knows that someone as wonderful as you would, she probably wonders how much the twins would be a part of their life.”

Hannah let the idea rest in her mind and, with a sudden flash of insight, realized he was right.

“You might want to assure her of that,” Ethan encouraged.

“If I ever date again,” Hannah said, picking at a hangnail.

“What about Brody?”

Hannah sighed. “I care for Brody so much that it scares me. I feel like what I felt for David was a teenage love for a teenage boy and I never really grew past that. I probably shouldn't have married him.” She waited for Ethan to look surprised. To express some type of shock that she still married David in spite of how she felt, but he just sat there, watching her, waiting. Some of the tension that had gripped her neck loosened at his unjudgmental attitude. “But I can't just think about me. Like you said, I have my children to consider. I have to put their needs above mine. And they need a mother and a father. And that's where I get nervous.”

“About Brody?”

She nodded. “I know he's not the Book-it Brody he once was, but sometimes I still sense that he's a bit of a risk-taker. He has a dangerous job. Just yesterday, I was at the fairgrounds and he got called out to a fire. It was just a grass fire I found out afterward, probably set by some prankster, but it still bothered me more than it should have to think he was doing dangerous work.”

“I can see that would be a consideration. But at the same time, I think many relationships are made or broken by trust.”

She frowned, not certain where he was going.

“Brody Harcourt is a good man. A careful man. Yes, at times in his life, he liked to take risks, but I think you can trust that if he has you and your children in his life he won't take needless risks.”