Montana Hero (15 page)

How was it GG put it?

“I fell in love with the wrong man. He loved me, too, but he couldn’t marry me. His family would have disowned him if he’d tried. They were Catholics and they didn’t believe in divorce. Plus, I was half-Jewish and half-Hippie.” She’d laughed at that, but then she got sad. “Your mom doesn’t know how close she came to being Katherine Zabrinski from Marietta, Montana.”

*

Flynn fought the
yawn that threatened to escape. He hated paperwork.
What the hell was I thinking when I took this job?

Luckily, his cell phone rang. The Whitney Houston tune
I Wanna Dance
brought a smile to his face. “Hello, Tucker. Happy Hump Day.”

“Am I interrupting anything exciting—or vaguely humpish?”

“I wish.”

Flynn leaned back in his chair and turned to observe his crew in the office. Everyone seemed to be on task. Of course, that could mean anything.

He still felt badly about lumping them all in the same boat the other morning. Job security wasn’t something to snivel about. He got that. But standing up for what was right had to count as well. And as far as he could tell everybody had turned a blind eye to Ken Morrison’s greed and corruption…even Kat.

“Well, this might help. Guess who’s meeting us for dinner tonight?”

The answer was pretty obvious. “Goat?”

“God, you’re no fun at all. Have I told you that in the past?”

“A few times.”

“A few hundred, maybe.” Tucker gave a weighty sigh. “You’re hopeless. Anyway, are you in? I hope so. I need your help to talk Justin into coming to work for me.”

Flynn cocked his head. “Doesn’t he have sponsors he has to keep happy?”

“Apparently, not any more. They wanted him to lead a climb in dangerous conditions. He refused. They fired his ass and got somebody else to do it. Two people died. Justin held a press conference pointing the finger at his sponsors, so…I’m guessing he’s going to be persona non grata for a while.”

Justin was the most honest, morally uncompromised of all of them. The death of fellow climbers would be a blow to him, even if what happened wasn’t his fault. Dropping off the face of the climbing map might be the healthiest thing he could do for himself.

“Dinner sounds great. What time do you want me to pick you up and where?”

“I’ve arranged for a late checkout at the Graff. Can you come around two-thirty?”

Same time Kat was leaving for her son’s play. That would look suspicious. “How ’bout three?”

“Okay. Justin’s going to meet us at the job site. I gave him the gate combination so he could look around before we get there.”

“You know what your doctor—”

Tucker cut him off. “I’m not getting out of the car. I promise. I’m bringing him the plans and my checkbook. The rest is up to Goat.”

Flynn had no idea how much it would take to convince Justin to jump ship with the Forest Service, but he’d make a damn fine project supervisor. That much Flynn did know.

When Flynn left the office at five minutes to three, he got a look from Janet that seemed smugly all-knowing. The woman was starting to bother him. And, from the research he’d done so far, she and Ken had an on-again/off-again relationship outside of work. Nothing in the way of a paper trail led to her as the one who cooked the books, but Flynn had a feeling something would show up eventually.

Since Tucker’s zip line played an integral part in the grants Flynn had asked Kat to pursue, he felt justified in making sure the venue got built. He didn’t bother telling Janet that, but he would have if she’d had the balls to ask.

Ten minutes later, he pulled up to the passenger loading area near the front door of the Graff. He recognized the old-fashioned steamer trunk and pumpkin orange suitcases that had logged more international miles than Flynn probably ever would. He got out and opened the back hatch and lowered the tailgate. A friendly bellhop helped him load everything into the bed of his truck.

Tucker appeared a few moments later, galloping along fairly quickly on his crutches. “You’re here,” he exclaimed. “Cool. Goat’s already on site. He said to take our time. He wants to walk the entire perimeter before he commits.”

Flynn checked his watch. “Let’s hope he doesn’t get lost. He’s going to be damned embarrassed if I have to call SAR to find his ass.”

Tucker laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something? But you know he has the best compass skills of all of us.”

True.

“So, what do you want to do? Where are we taking this stuff?”

“Molly’s guest house is supposed to be cleaned and aired and ready for me around five. Our dinner reservation is for six-thirty. Until then, I thought maybe we could go check out my little pal, Brady Robinson’s theatrical debut. He’s George Washington.”

Flynn’s heart made a funny lurching motion. He held the door for his friend as he searched Tucker’s face for any obvious guile. “I heard you gave young Brady some pointers.”

“Blocking, mostly. And audience engagement.”

Satisfied that Tucker honestly wanted to be supportive of his young protégé—not play matchmaker—Flynn turned toward Marietta Elementary. He hadn’t visited the school yet and wanted to get a look at it. The guest parking was full, so Flynn dropped Tucker at the main door and drove a few blocks away to grab a spot.

When he returned, he found Tucker standing in line with Kat and Bailey Jenkins-Zabrinski.

“Oh, there you are,” Kat said, noticing him first. “Have you met Bailey? She’s a local jewelry artist as well as a new mother.”

Flynn glanced at the beautiful cowgirl in her leather coat trimmed with faux fur around the neck and wrists. Her long dangling earrings were a unique combination of silver and colorful stones. “Hi, again.”

To Kat, he added, “She’s my temporary landlord.”

Kat’s blush made him want to pull her into some dark corner and kiss her. If they’d been high school students together, he so would have. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“How’s the house hunting coming?” Bailey asked.

Flynn had told Bailey about his plans as soon as he started looking so she wouldn’t be blindsided if he found something and moved.

“One definite possibility. I made an appointment on Saturday to take Tucker and another friend of ours to see it.”

Before she could speak, someone ahead of them in line called out, “Assembly Room doors are open. We can go in now.”

“About time,” someone else muttered.

“Now, Bob,” the woman at his side shushed.

“Slower than the damn line up at a senior all-you-can-eat buffet.”

Bailey bit down on her lip as if to keep from smiling but the twinkle in her eyes told him she knew the people. As they moved out of hearing range, she told them, “My in-laws. They’re snowbirds. Usually they don’t come back to Montana until around Memorial Day, but with so much going on, family-wise, including Arya’s birth, my mother-in-law didn’t leave Bob any choice.”

She looked around. “Paul’s supposed to be here.” With a shrug, she released the brake on the stroller and started toward the building. “We’ll have to save him a spot. I know he’ll be here eventually. Chloe would never let him live it down if he missed her performance.”

The line slowed to accommodate an older woman in a wheelchair.

“I’m going to be so glad when this play is over,” Bailey said. “Has Brady been driving you crazy with this?”

“Definitely. Last night, he was so jacked up I was afraid he’d have a stroke or something.” Kat shook her head. “Learning to deal with pressure is great, but some kids don’t handle it as well as others.”

Bailey lowered her voice but still included the men in the conversation. “Personally, I think it’s because Brady and Chloe are acting like Mr. and Mrs. George Washington. That sort of makes them a couple, and their friends are teasing them about it.”

Flynn looked at Tucker. “Makes sense. I’d have died if I’d had to share the stage with my first crush.”

When he looked at Kat, she seemed three or four shades paler than she had when they started talking. “Are you okay?”

She was saved from answering by the arrival of a man in a dark green jacket adorned with the logo: Big Z’s Hardware and Outdoor Living Center. “Oh, good, I thought I was going to be late. Ready, honey?”

He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and gently nudged her out of the way to take control of the stroller.

Bailey looked at them and shook her head. “Men,” she mouthed to Kat, taking her husband’s arm as they headed into the school.

Flynn fell back to let Kat and Tucker navigate through the narrow doorway. “It was really nice of you to come,” he heard Kat say. “Brady seemed a lot more confident after your coaching tips. I just hope he doesn’t get tongue-tied. He’s never really been on stage before.”

Tucker murmured something supportive.

Flynn reluctantly acknowledged a few butterflies of his own, which didn’t really make any sense. Brady wasn’t his kid. Kat wasn’t his girlfriend. Still, he crossed his fingers and said a little prayer that the boy pulled this off without a hitch.

*

Kat didn’t know
how it happened that she walked into the crowded cafeteria-slash-multipurpose room flanked by two of the most handsome men she’d ever met. Fair-haired Viking and Dark Warlord. That’s how she saw them in her mind. And as kind as Tucker had been to her son, she felt nothing—not even a twinge of attraction—toward him. If anything, he could have been Brady’s long-lost uncle or the younger brother she’d always wanted.

Flynn, on the other hand, visited her every night in her dreams. Moody, intense, sometimes they didn’t speak beyond the need they shared and had no trouble expressing. Lord, she’d been horny and hot for a guy before, but she’d never experienced dreams as intensely X-rated as these.

Just sitting beside him on a metal folding chair made her female junk tingle with a distraction she didn’t need and didn’t appreciate. Not that her desires were his fault, but he sort of was to blame just by being hot.

“Warm enough?”

Kat blinked. “Huh?” she asked Bailey, who was fanning herself with the electronic tablet she’d pulled from her diaper bag.

“It’s probably me, isn’t it? They don’t tell you about post-delivery hormones and hot flashes. I can cry at the drop of a hat. Paul won’t let me anywhere near Facebook because of all the sad animal stories. The one with the baby elephant that’s afraid to cross the road…”

Big tears welled up in her eyes.

She blinked fiercely. “See? I’m a mess.”

Kat tilted her chin to her right to see if Flynn had noticed. His grin told her yes. His grin would be her downfall. Her hand trembled like an old woman with palsy as she fought the need to touch said hand to his broad, powerful thigh.

Luckily, she was saved by the bell. Literally. A boy in a herald’s costume walked across the portable stage ringing a large, metal bell. “Hear ye. Hear ye. Welcome to Grade Five’s presentation of Historical Figures You Only Thought You Knew.”

Kat sat forward a little in anticipation. According to the folded brochure they’d been handed, George and Martha Washington were last. She’d have a lot to compare to Brady’s performance.

Each performer did a good job of bringing their characters to life. Some were names she’d never heard of before—little known figures who simply didn’t stand out in memory. The boy who portrayed Ben Franklin made everyone laugh with his portrayal. Franklin’s love of women, food and fame made him come across as a brilliant buffoon.

Tucker leaned across Flynn to tell Kat, “I’m glad Brady didn’t pick Ben. I’m a little sad to meet the real Mr. Franklin.”

Kat agreed.

Then, finally, two children, almost identical in height and build in white wigs and borrowed shoes that made a clumping sound when the boy walked, entered the stage. Kat held her breath in anticipation.

Her son turned—just the way Tucker had shown him—and looked at the audience. “You know me. You all know me. My face passes through your fingers every time you spend a buck.” He waved a one-dollar bill back and forth like a tiny flag. “People call me the Father of Our Country. This fine lady calls me…”

“G….eorge,” the young actress let out, like a fishwife calling her husband who was long overdue for supper. “Come home and eat, my husband. You can’t win the Revolutionary War without a good meal first.”