The Magnificent Seven. Cheryl St.John
Had she ever. “They ate something?”
“Just a small snack. Grapes and raisins and a few cubes of cheese with crackers, nothing to spoil their dinner.”
Spoil their dinner? As if! He marveled at the concept of them eating the nourishing fare she’d provided. The food she described was more than they ever ate for dinner! How had she done it? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to appear even more incapable in her eyes.
“Children, wash your hands and use the bathroom. I’m going to get the Blazer.” She opened a cupboard and took out a small purse.
Her children obediently carried their plates to the counter and washed their hands at the sink. Jessica pulled out a chair and helped Andrew. Mitch watched in awe.
The twins miraculously fell in behind and washed their hands without a complaint, then took their turns in the bathroom. They were still in shock over the truck incident, waiting to see what horrible punishment was going to befall them, otherwise they’d have been their usual contrary selves.
He would enjoy this compliance while it lasted, he decided, and followed the children out to the Blazer Heather had pulled up to the back porch. She got out and locked up the house, checked all the riders for seat belts, then returned to the driver’s seat. Her delicate scent, something fresh and feminine, drifted toward him, and once again those disturbing eyes touched his face. This time her gaze was like a breezy caress that fingered across his brow, along his jaw.
His imagination had gone into overdrive. He looked away, and she changed gears.
“I appreciate this,” Mitch said, though she really hadn’t had much choice once he’d been stranded in her backyard. Get them to town or have them on her steps, he guessed.
She drove toward the county road.
“About the job…” he dared.
“I don’t think that’s going to work out,” she replied, firmly crushing any scrawny hope he’d held.
“I had a great idea for that upstairs bath,” he said, anyway. “Of course you need one downstairs, too.” He explained his concept of the bath he’d envisioned. “If you change your mind, I’ll be glad to work out the details with you. Like I said, I can delay payment, and I know I could keep costs down.”
“Thanks,” she said, not giving him any encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Where am I taking you, anyway?”
“The Kincaid ranch,” he replied. “Know where it is?”
“You’ll have to point the way.”
He nodded. “I suppose you’ve heard all about the grandson roundup.”
“No.”
“Garrett Kincaid is my grandfather.” He studied her profile, then let his attention drift to those shapely legs.
She glanced over and caught him looking. King of Cool here, he scoffed at himself. “I’ve only been here two and a half weeks. I live in San Francisco. I don’t plan on sticking around, and I don’t really know anyone in town anymore.”
He’d grown used to everyone knowing his business, so the fact that she hadn’t heard all the local gossip was refreshing. For some weird reason, he found himself wanting to tell her his side of the story. “My mother is from here,” he explained. “I grew up thinking I had no family on my father’s side. Hearing from Garrett last year was a surprise. My biological father was Garrett’s son, Larry. When he died, he left quite a few descendents—to my grandfather’s surprise. Seven of us, to be exact.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right.” He kept his voice low. “He was married when he had an affair with the nanny—my mother. Apparently Larry gave her money for an abortion, but she kept it and moved to Minnesota. She told me she sent him a photo and a letter after I was born, but he never responded, so she went on with her life. Married my stepdad, had more kids.”
“You don’t sound upset or bitter.”
“People do what they have to do. My mom did the best she knew how. My grandfather never knew about me—about any of Larry’s illegitimate children—but once he found out, he did what he thought was right. Well, six of us, anyway. He’s still looking for the seventh. He got us all together and is working to give us each a piece of Kincaid land.”
“He sounds like a nice man.”
“He is.”
“And Larry?” She cast Mitch a inquisitive glance.
“What about him?”
“How do you feel about him?”
A personal question. One he hadn’t anticipated from her, but he didn’t mind. Her curiosity hinted that she may think a little more kindly of him than he’d worried. “I don’t really know how to feel. He never wanted to be a part of my life, and I’ve had a fine life without him.”
Heather turned onto the long strip of road that led across the Kincaid ranch to the house. “This it?”
“This is it.”
“Is there a Mr. Johnson?” Mitch asked. He’d told her quite a bit about himself, but knew nothing about her.
She cast him a quick, unrevealing glance before returning her attention to the road. “There is, but we’re divorced.”
“Oh.”
A minute later, a quiet, “You, too?”
“No. My wife died.”
“I’m sorry.”
He gazed at the house that came into view ahead. “Me, too.”
“Recently?” she asked.
He turned to look at her. “Four years ago. She had a blood disease.”
Her eyes held compassion when she took them from the road for a moment. “So you’ve been raising Taylor and Ashley by yourself?”
“My mother and my wife’s mother kept them, and we tried a few day cares. Nothing worked out. They’re, uh, a handful.”
“Most kids are.”
She didn’t have a clue. He’d seen how well behaved hers were. Sometimes he felt like a total failure at parenting. Heck, most times he was a total failure at parenting.
Well, being raised by grandmothers would explain some of the twins’s spoiled behavior, Heather thought. But she’d never seen anything like their kicking and screaming histrionics, and she knew she wouldn’t have put up with it for five minutes.
She pulled the Blazer up the winding drive, past detached garages, and stopped in front of the house. A tall, dark-haired young man with dark eyes and olive skin approached the vehicle, a smile on his handsome face. “Hey, bro! Where’s your truck?”
“Hey, Cade. It’s at Ms. Johnson’s place, drying out.”
Cade lowered his head to peer into the vehicle. “Ms. Johnson?”
“From Pete Bolton’s ranch,” she clarified.
“This is my half brother, Cade Redstone. Cade, this is Heather Johnson.”
Cade stretched a tanned arm in front of Mitch, and Heather shook his hand. “What’s this about drying out your truck?”
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Mitch said.
“Uh-oh. Has the dynamic duo been at it again?”
“Big-time.” Mitch got out and opened the back door to help unbuckle his daughters. They ran off toward the house.
“Thanks again,” Mitch said, ducking in the passenger window. “I’ll be out tomorrow to fix that fence. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
His