A Family After All. Kathy Altman
and snatched up her drawing, a tidy rendition of a rainbow arching behind a soggy pair of trees and a horse. She stabbed a finger at the innermost arch of the rainbow, currently colorless, and shot him a look that screamed, Duh!
He surveyed the markers scattered across the table. “If you mix red and blue, you get purple. Maybe use red, then color over it with blue?”
“Good idea,” Bradley said behind him. G’s shoulders lost some of their height, though she shot a dirty look at her brother.
“Whatever,” she muttered. She grabbed the red marker and dropped into her chair.
Seth turned away and bumped knuckles with Bradley. “Remind me to give you a raise.”
“You can’t afford it.” He shoved a message pad at Seth. As per usual, there were more doodles than writing on the paper. “Pete Lowry called again. He needs another payment for the work he did on the truck.”
This was the work he’d done the last time Bertha was in the shop.
“I’ll take care of it.” Somehow. Seth noticed Bradley fighting a grin. “Something else on your mind?”
“Olivia Duncan’s on the phone again. Want me to take a message?”
Seth pictured the curvy brunette with the open smile and kind eyes. Last time they’d talked, she’d offered to arrange a picnic lunch for Seth and the kids. Sandwiches and Frisbee by the lake.
“You three should enjoy the beach more often,” she’d said. Like a normal family, she’d meant.
He glanced over his shoulder at his kids, one secretive, the other sullen. Thought of the hell they’d been through the past few years.
They could use some normal.
His brain flashed from Olivia to Ivy, whose elegance, beauty, stubbornness and lusty sense of humor were far from ordinary. Ivy. Who’d made it clear she’d put up with children only if they arrived on a school bus and left the same way, in ninety minutes or less.
He didn’t want to date anyone else. Hadn’t wanted to date at all after his divorce, until he met her. But he had to make it clear—to himself and to her—that what little they had wasn’t working anymore.
“No.” Seth took off his cap and tossed it at his desk, rolled his shoulders and headed for the door. “I got this.”
* * *
IVY SWEPT THE rubber currycomb over the stallion’s gleaming coat, over and over, each circular stroke carrying her closer to calm. She still had a long way to go, though, because she hadn’t quite managed to convince herself that Seth Walker didn’t deserve a good, swift kick in his stupendous ass.
She knew he hadn’t been playing hard to get. But it ticked her off that he’d simply up and walked out on the game. The jerk.
What ticked her off even more? The burning sensation behind her eyes. She blinked, cleared her throat and focused on the one male in her life she knew would never let her down.
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing, does he, Cabana Boy?”
The dark bay’s coat rippled and he scolded her with a snort. She was brushing too hard. Ivy lifted the comb away.
“Sorry about that.” She moved to the corner where she’d stashed the plastic grooming tote and exchanged the currycomb for a soft-bristled body brush. She hesitated and stared down at the fresh straw covering the floor. Her shoulders ached from mucking out stalls—she’d gotten a little too carried away with the pitchfork. And she still had to close up the milking shed, pay bills and record the production numbers before she could call it a day. A tuna sandwich would have to do for dinner. She didn’t have the energy to manage anything more exciting.
Crap, did she even have mayonnaise?
She leaned forward until her forehead rested against the iron grill forming the upper half of the stall. The slim bars provided better lighting and ventilation than a solid floor-to-ceiling wall and saved Ivy—and her horses—from claustrophobia. She closed her eyes and breathed in the rich, sunshiny scent of dried straw and the mint toothpaste she used every time she washed her hands to get rid of the smell of manure.
She pictured Seth with Olivia, and regret knotted her stomach. Maybe he’d understand if she explained why she couldn’t have children in her life. And maybe he’d hate her forever.
It wasn’t worth the risk. Seth was right. He and his kids deserved a woman who’d put them first.
Would he really stop playing deliveryman, though?
She opened her eyes, pushed away from the wall and turned back to Cabana Boy and his soothing beauty. He was brown, and his points—mane, tail and lower legs—were black, but Ivy’s favorite feature was the bright white star on his forehead, a star that looked more like a backward comma. Her parents had brought the stallion home as a sort of consolation prize for leaving Ivy behind while they cruised the Mediterranean. One month later, they were both dead.
That had been eight years ago.
Cabana Boy nudged her shoulder. “I should have brought an apple,” she murmured. Her stomach grumbled, and she huffed a laugh. “For each of us.”
A scuffing sound behind her had her swinging around while her heart bounced against her breastbone. Wade leaned over the stall door, and Ivy struggled to keep the disappointment out of her face. How pathetic, that she’d think for even a second that Seth might have changed his mind.
“Hey there,” she said. “Heading out?” It was late, but he’d made it into work only a couple of hours ago.
He nodded, gaze locked on the stallion. “I fixed that one pulsator. Just needed to adjust the pressure. We’re back to ten milkers again.”
“Bless you,” she said, and got the first inkling of trouble when his lips thinned under his gray-flecked mustache. She patted Cabana Boy’s flank and turned toward her farm manager. “Everything okay with Becky?”
He shrugged, still not looking at Ivy. “Her brush with death has got her to thinking. What she wants to do with her life and such.”
“Brush with death?” Ivy gaped. “Wade, she backed into a Dumpster at the dollar store. She broke her collarbone after slipping on a half-eaten egg-salad sandwich when she got out to check the damage.”
“There are people who can take something like that in stride. Others feel the need for the kind of understanding only a family can provide.”
He stuck out his lower lip, signaling his disappointment in her reaction. Ivy sighed. Such a fine damned line between being judgmental and showing righteous scorn. Apparently she’d crossed the line. Again. Then Wade’s words registered. Oh, God.
“You’re moving back to Montana?”
“Soon as we can get packed.”
An icy dread coated Ivy’s stomach. “Does that mean you’re not giving any notice?”
“Like I said, she needs her family.” He sucked his lower lip back in and raised conflicted eyes. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I really am.”
Shock held her immobile, and her heart felt heavy in her chest. Becky had obviously put her foot down, and Wade had never been able to tell his young bride no. Somehow, she willed a smile to her lips. “I’ll miss you,” she said thickly. “You’ve been a top-notch manager and a good friend.”
How the hell am I going to replace you?
He shuffled inside the stall and held out a thick, scarred hand, but Ivy ignored it and drew him into a hug. He stiffened, then squeezed her hard, and squeezed even tighter when she made to step back. Once he finally released her, he was blinking rapidly. He turned his head and took his time plucking a piece of hay free of his shoulder.
Ivy concentrated on giving Cabana Boy’s