The Magnificent Seven. Cheryl St.John
She shrugged. “No rush. The horses were boarded at a neighbor’s before I arrived.”
“You know where I am if you change your mind about the project.”
She nodded noncommittally. Besides how disturbed she felt in his presence, his children were more trouble than she needed. “Goodbye.”
He moved away and she steered the Blazer back toward the highway. She’d been thinking about considering his offer when they’d heard the commotion from outside. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a quick decision based on her instantaneous reaction to his appearance. She didn’t trust a man who couldn’t handle two small children to manage a remodeling project.
Somebody else was sure to call about the job.
Three
N o one else called about the job. Heather had tried every number in Whitehorn’s leaflet that someone had amusingly labeled a phone directory, without finding anyone willing to take on the repair work. One local company offered to place her on their waiting list, but wouldn’t promise anything until November.
She couldn’t wait that long. She couldn’t wait any longer. Once she even found a contractor, the work would take weeks. Her vacation was over and she had been forced to ask for a leave of absence until matters were settled. Her boss had pressed her for a return date, but she’d been unable to provide him with one. She had to get things moving quickly or she worried her job would be in jeopardy.
The children had been in bed for more than an hour, the laundry was done, and Heather made herself a cup of tea and carried it out to the porch. She went back in for a sweatshirt before snuggling down in the comfortable rattan rocker that creaked beneath her weight.
The clatter of the frogs sounded more like locusts than the deep-throated croak one expected. At the sound, long-buried memories edged to the surface of her mind and she recalled the summer evenings of her childhood. She’d been alone. Always alone. After her mother’s death, her father had retreated into a bottle and turned her care over to his dominating housekeeper.
Heather had despised the woman and at every opportunity had hidden herself away to avoid her. Coming back to the ranch after so many years raised memories better left forgotten. With strict discipline, she locked away those unpleasant thoughts.
Her husband had never been much of a father. He’d paid minimal attention to Patrick at first, since he’d been the first boy, but the novelty had soon worn off. Craig had made money. That had been his forte. But he’d believed Heather should be making money, too. They couldn’t afford the life-style and the house and the status he thought they needed on one salary.
And Heather had never minded working, since her job gave her the satisfaction and self-worth she’d never received at home. Sometimes she’d had misgivings about the time away from her family, about the firsts she had missed, and the opportunities that slipped by, but it was just the way things were for everyone these days.
Her boss had called tonight, conferring with her on a project due in another month. His reliance on her expertise assured her of her value in the company. They were impatient for her to settle this situation. Everyone had family matters arise from time to time; however, companies were understanding only to a point.
Unfortunately, Mitch Fielding’s offer was the only option she had at this time. That or selling the ranch off in its present condition and losing a heck of a profit. Heaven knew she could use the money from the sale of the ranch to make life easier. Craig paid child support, but her apartment cost a small fortune and there were always unforeseen expenses with a family.
Their house hadn’t been paid for, so she’d let him take over the payments. He’d married again within a year.
Not her. She got by just fine without someone to stifle and criticize her every move, thank you very much. She almost felt sorry for Craig’s new wife, who obviously hadn’t known the oppression she was bowing under when she’d spoken those vows.
No, this was the life for her. She tucked her feet under her and sipped her tea. And as soon as she got back to San Francisco, everything would be back to normal—better than normal actually.
How long could the remodeling take, anyway? Could Mitch hurry along contractors? She would have to make it clear that expediency was part of the deal. No waiting around for weeks and weeks to get things done. She planned the tactics in her head—how she would make the arrangement, how long she would give him, and how soon the work would be under way.
And as for his children—what were two more little girls?
Mitch had been replacing wires and checking belts under the hood of his truck for about an hour when the pewter-colored Blazer pulled up into the graveled area. Heather got out, sent Jessica and Patrick into the house, and came over to talk to him, carrying her youngest. Mitch couldn’t help noticing the young mother’s shapely legs revealed by a pair of cuffed white shorts. His gaze skimmed up the length of those slender legs to her slim waist.
“Get it running?” she asked. Her shoulder-length honey-brown hair glistened with streaks of blond in the sunlight. She wore a sleeveless sweater with a row of tiny buttons that drew his attention to nicely rounded breasts beneath the fabric. The soft shade of blue made her golden eyes sparkle once she pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. The baby’s hand rested on the swell of one breast and Mitch’s throat got so dry, he had to look away.
He wiped his hands on a rag. “Pretty rough, but it’s running. I figured I’d have it towed to get it out of your yard, if it didn’t start.”
“It’s not bothering anything,” she replied. She glanced around the yard. “You fixed the corral.”
“First thing.”
Her unreadable gaze fluttered to the barn and back. “Mitch.”
His name from her lips pleased him in some unexplainable way. He liked the sound. “Yeah.”
“Your suggestions were better than any of the other candidates’s. I’ve decided to negotiate with you on the remodeling project. There are a few things we need to get straight first, and I have a list of questions.”
“My time is your time,” he said amenably.
“Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“Please join us. After we eat, we’ll sit on the porch, such as it is, and talk business.”
He gave a nod. “All right.”
“Where are your daughters?”
“Cade agreed to look after them. He’s a newlywed and his wife Leanne teased that he could use the practice.”
“He seems like a nice guy.”
“Very. I’m glad we got together. With my other half brothers, too. It’s been an interesting experience. Whether or not I get any land isn’t really important. Discovering I have family is.”
She tucked a length of hair behind her ear and looked away, as if the personal subject made her uncomfortable. She adjusted Andrew on her hip and the boy’s hand dropped from her breast. Mitch made himself look at her eyes. Equally as disturbing.
“About twenty-five minutes, then?” she asked.
He refocused on their conversation. “I’ll be there.”
Almost an hour later she carried two frosted glasses of iced tea out to the porch and they settled on the weathered furniture. She crossed her smooth, distracting legs. She had to know what a distraction that was, but she seemed to not notice his perusal. Her toes peeked from her sandals, revealing delicate nails painted a pale pink.
Mitch purposely studied one of the barn cats that lay in a sliver of sunlight. The feline gave him a disinterested blink and flicked his tail against the porch floor in a rhythmic beat.
“First, it’s important that you know I’m under time pressure