Major Nanny

Chapter Fourteen

The sweet-natured palomino, Delta, was a comfortable ride, though Stacy was sure she’d be sore in the morning. It had been a while since she’d been riding, but the walk to the east pasture was a pleasant reminder of one part of her life she’d left behind when she became a time-consuming combination of Zachary’s mother and Lila Lockhart’s aide-de-camp.

She’d grown up riding horses in Arkansas-some of her father’s rescues had required him to be able to travel by horseback, so he’d bought a couple of strong, reliable packhorses and kept them in a barn behind their house.

Though Jupiter and Mars had been friendly, dependable trail mounts, they loved to be run. Stacy was one of their favorite people, because they knew that, more often than not, when she saddled them up she was going to let them run like the wind across the pastureland behind the family home.

“See? He’s a natural,” Trevor called, nodding toward Zachary, who was handling Alamo with more confidence than Stacy had expected. He rode ahead and settled next to Zachary. “Ready to show your mom what you can do, cowboy?”

Zachary beamed at Stacy, his joyous look making her heart skip a beat. But before she could even smile back, Trevor gave Alamo’s rump a light slap and the horse kicked into a canter.

“Trevor, have you lost your mind?” She gave the palomino a quick tap of her riding boot to urge her forward. If the Appaloosa gelding decided to break into a gallop, Zachary could be hurt or even killed.

“Let the boy be a boy!” Trevor turned his horse into her path, forcing the palomino to pull up.

“Get out of my way!” Stacy pulled the palomino to the left to ride around Trevor.

Trevor blocked her again, laughing. “Stop being such a mother, Stacy! Let him have fun! He knows what he’s doing-”

“Damn it, Trevor, get the hell out of my way!” She whipped Delta’s reins to the right and sent her into a gallop, flying past Trevor. He grabbed for the reins but she kicked out at him, catching him in the thigh, and he wasn’t able to stop her.

Zachary was over fifty yards ahead of her now, holding on to the back of the galloping Appaloosa like a baby monkey clinging to its mother. Stacy couldn’t tell if he was in control or not, and she hadn’t gone ten yards before Trevor caught up with her, reaching again for the reins.

“Will you stop fighting me?” he called out, flashing her a confident grin as he snagged the reins to slow her horse. “Zachary’s tougher than you think. You don’t have to baby him all the time. You put so much time in mothering him, you don’t even seem to remember you’re a beautiful, vibrant woman!”

She stared at him, stunned by his gall and appalled by the accompanying compliment. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

Trevor’s grin widened. “You’re so sexy when you’re angry. Did you know that?”

Her skin crawling, she jerked at the reins, trying to regain control. “You don’t know me well enough to say any of these things to me.”

His grin faded, but he held on to the reins. Stacy looked away frantically, trying to keep an eye on Zachary, who was racing farther and farther from where she was struggling with Trevor.

“Let go of those reins or I will tell the governor about your insubordination.”

His eyes narrowed to slit. “Insubordination? That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Just some lowlife shoveling horse crap for a living. Right?” He laughed, but the sound was anything but humorous. “You don’t know anything about me, Stacy. And if you want to tattle, go ahead. I don’t need this job.”

He still held the reins. Stacy gave a tug. “Let go.”

He tugged the reins tighter, pulling their horses together until his leg and Stacy’s almost touched. “Does the governor know how often you bring Zachary riding?”

She gritted her teeth. “Let. Go.” She kicked her horse, hoping Delta’s strength would wrench the reins from Trevor’s hands before she had to resort to something more violent.

The ploy worked momentarily, and she and the mare thundered across the pasture, heading north to try to cut off Zachary and the Appaloosa, which had started to curve back around as they neared the outer edge of the pasture, where the land began to rise subtly.

But in seconds, she heard hoofbeats drumming toward her, catching up fast. “Does she know, Stacy?” Trevor called after her. “Does she know how hard the job is for you?”

She felt his hand touch her elbow, grabbing for her. He tugged sharply, and she clamped her knees around the horse, trying to keep her seat as he pulled her off balance.

Suddenly, he let go. She heard the sound of a scuffle behind her, and even her fear for Zachary couldn’t keep her from looking back to see what had happened.

She saw Harlan on the ground, holding Trevor down on his face, his arms pulled behind him to subdue him. Nearby, a black horse danced and snorted, eager for more action.

“Go!” Harlan said urgently, and she turned and goaded the mare into a flat-out run.

Alamo was still running a half circle around the edge of the pastureland, galloping with all the joy and power of a young, healthy horse given his head. She feared Zachary would fall from the saddle at any moment, but when she reached the gelding and caught his reins, Zachary was laughing with wild joy.

“Did you see me, Mommy? Did you?” Zachary threw himself into her waiting arms, almost overbalancing her. He wrapped his arms and legs around her as tightly as he’d wrapped them around the horse. “Alamo ran like the wind, Mommy. Like the wind!”

She buried her face in his neck, fighting tears of relief.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, there’s no reason to hold him?” Harlan stared at Jeff Appleton, stunned. “How about child endangerment, for starters?”

“Zachary is fine.” Appleton looked regretful but resigned. “And since Stacy doesn’t want to press charges-”

“What?” Harlan shook his head. “No way.”

“It’s my word against his.” Stacy’s voice sent a dart of awareness shooting through him, as if his whole body was becoming acutely attuned to her-her voice, her expression, the way she always smelled good, like a light breeze on a warm spring day. At the moment, she was all stony determination, the muscle in her jaw tight and twitching. “And this kind of mess is the last thing the governor needs now.”

“I have to go process Lewis out of here.” Jeff gave Harlan another apologetic look and headed down the sheriff’s station hallway, leaving Harlan and Stacy alone in the corridor.

“Stacy, that guy could have gotten Zachary killed.”

Her eyes flashing, she spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t you think I know that? Believe me, I’m not going to let Zachary go anywhere near Trevor Lewis again. But Jeff said Trevor’s talking about pressing assault charges against you-”

“That’s bull-the guy was trying to manhandle you.”

“The governor and Greg think-”

“Greg.” Harlan spat the name, glad that the governor and her smarmy campaign manager were nowhere nearby. “I know the guy’s supposed to be some sort of political genius, but he shouldn’t be facilitating that creep’s attempted blackmail.”

Stacy put her hand on Harlan’s arm. Even blazing with anger, he wasn’t immune to the feel of her fingers on his skin, his flesh quivering where she touched him. “The party is tomorrow night. That’s our priority. After that, the governor and I can talk about finding other reasons to fire Trevor Lewis. Ironclad reasons he can’t use to smear her in the press.”

“He threatened that, too?”

Stacy’s lips pressed to a thin line. “Let’s just go home. I have a ton of work to do.” Her expression softened, her lips curving. “And I believe you promised you’d watch Zachary for me.”

He let his own anger drain away, making the effort to do as she asked-table any thoughts about Trevor Lewis until after the fundraiser. He’d already put Trevor at the top of the background checklist-if the CSI team found anything that showed Trevor was a real threat to the governor or Stacy and Zachary, they’d call him immediately.

Besides, she’d just suggested they go home, and he liked the warm, tingling feeling the word gave him when she said it.

“Okay. Where’s the little cowpoke?”

Stacy smiled. “Sitting on Sheriff Hale’s desk, telling him how to tell the difference between an Appaloosa and a dapple.”

That’s my boy, Harlan thought, grinning as he followed her down the hall to the sheriff’s office.

“ZACHARY, WE HAVE TO be very quiet. Your mama’s working.”

Harlan’s voice trailed down the hall from Zachary’s room, making Stacy look up from her paperwork and smile. They’d eaten an early supper and Harlan, true to his word, had coaxed Zachary to play with him in Zachary’s room, leaving Stacy free to finish up the last-minute calls and arrangements she had to make for the fundraiser.

“She’s always working.” Zachary’s plaintive voice carried even farther than Harlan’s, sending a little arrow of guilt straight through Stacy’s heart.

“I know. She works very hard,” Harlan agreed. “And do you know why?”

“No.”

Harlan’s laugh echoed Stacy’s soft chuckle at her son’s answer. “She does it so you can go riding and go to school and learn what Miss Charlotte teaches you. And so you can depend on there always being hot dogs on hot dog night-”

“Tonight was peanut butter and jelly night.”

“I know. And your mother works hard so she can buy your peanut butter.”

“I don’t like crunchy peanut butter.”

“Well, good,” Harlan said with a chuckle. “That way, there’ll be more for me.”

Zachary laughed at Harlan’s joke, catching Stacy by surprise. Zachary almost never knew when to laugh at other people’s jokes. But somehow, Harlan had broken through to him for that one small moment. Stacy blinked back the sudden sting of tears.

“See, some people have to do stuff they don’t like to do in order to be able to do the stuff they do like to do,” Harlan explained.

“Why?”

Harlan laughed again. “I’ve been asking that question since I was a little kid like you.”

Zachary sounded incredulous. “Wow. That’s a long time!”

Stacy smiled, trying to picture Harlan’s expression in response to her son’s honest if unflattering comment.

“Yeah, I reckon it is,” Harlan conceded. “And, best I can tell, the only answer to that question is, that’s just how things work.”

“I don’t like that answer.” Stacy could picture the look of disapproval on her son’s face just by the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, me either,” Harlan agreed. “So, come on, Zachary, my man-where did we leave Beauty?”

A few minutes of reading later, Zachary’s murmuring narration slowed and finally stopped. Stacy smiled at the silence; Zachary had fallen asleep in the middle of reading, as he often did.

After a couple of minutes more, Harlan emerged from the bedroom, looking a little rumpled but smiling. “He reads better than half the guys in my platoon.”

“He fell asleep?”

“And right in the middle of an exciting part, too.” He wandered around the living room for a few seconds in fidgety silence before he finally edged over to where she sat and looked down at her.

“What?” she asked, laying down her pen.

“I wish you’d reconsider pressing charges against Trevor Lewis.” Harlan crouched beside her desk, his dark eyes intense and serious.

“He has more cause to press charges against you than I have to press them against him.” She turned her chair to face him. “I don’t like the idea that he wins this round, either, but I’ve learned in this business, you have to pick your battles.”

“I hate politics,” he growled, pushing to his feet and walking a few feet away. “Politics get in the way of getting things done.”

“Politics help you enact the policies that get things done,” she countered, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. So much of what she’d believed her entire life had been challenged over the past few years.

“Maybe in the big picture sense. Maybe.” He crossed back to her, his expression passionate. “I get why there are rules. Hell, I was a Marine. I also get why you have to try to do the best thing possible for the most people involved. I do. But when you’re the guy who falls between the cracks as a result-” He clamped his mouth shut, turning away once more.

“We’re not talking about what happened with Trevor anymore, are we?” She walked over to where he stood at her front window. Outside, night had fallen in earnest, only pale moon glow tempering the inky gloom.

He angled his gaze to meet hers. “Not entirely.”

“You fell through the cracks?”

“Probably not an apt term.” He flexed his right hand.

She caught his hand in hers, turning it over to look at the network of ragged scars marring the skin. “Does it still hurt?”

“Just aches sometimes.” His voice deepened. “Probably the scar tissue pulling or something. There’s a bit of nerve damage, so I don’t have full feeling in that hand.”

The temptation to kiss the center of his scarred palm nearly overwhelmed her. “What did you do in the Marines?”

“Worked hard. Tried not to get killed. Pretty much what every other guy in a uniform did in Iraq.” His lips curved in a self-protective grin. “Sort of like motherhood, huh?”

She returned the smile. “Yeah. But it’s worth it.”

“Zachary’s such a great kid. I’m starting to get why aspies believe it’s the rest of us who have the problems. We’re the ones who lie about our feelings and try to temper everything. Zachary just says what he thinks and lets the chips fall where they may. World might be a better place if more people just told the damned truth.”

He wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better, she realized. He wasn’t trying to play an angle or manipulate her the way Anthony might have done in the same situation.

The tears she’d been fighting ever since the run-in with Trevor burned their way into her eyes. She blinked, trying to keep them at bay a little longer. “I hope he always has people in his life who feel the same way about him. I think if he does, he’ll be okay.”

Harlan lifted his hands to her face, his thumbs brushing over the moisture seeping from her eyes. “As long as he has you, he’ll be okay.”

Unable to bear the gentle sympathy in his gaze, she pulled away from his grasp. “I should get back to work.”

“What’s left to do for tonight?”

Nothing, really. Harlan had helped her out more than he knew by taking care of Zachary while she was tackling the last-minute calls to finalize the arrangements for the party the next evening. “I’m sure I can find something that needs doing-”

He caught her hand as she tried to turn away, his grip warm but strong. “Anything to avoid being alone with me?”

A low groan of frustration escaped her throat. “Why do you have to make it so much harder? I told you how impossible it would be for us.”

“Why?” He caught her other hand, tugging her closer.

The pull of him was like a powerful undercurrent, dragging her inexorably further out to sea no matter how hard she fought against it. “I have to think of Zachary.”

“Zachary likes me.”

“Too much,” she protested. “He’s too attached to you already, and the more time I let you spend with him, the harder it’s going to be when you’re not here any longer.”

“What if I’m not going anywhere?”

Hope jolted through her at his words before she could squelch it. “You won’t be here after the party, will you?” she argued. “You’ll be going back home and Zachary and I will be alone again.”

“I’m not Anthony,” Harlan growled.

“I didn’t say you were-”

“That’s how you treat me,” he shot back, dropping her hands and pacing away from her, his movements quick and full of pent-up frustration. “‘I can’t let Zachary get close to you because you’ll hurt him.’” He whipped back to face her. “Just like Anthony, right?”

She took a couple of quick steps toward him before she could stop herself. “You’re nothing like Anthony.”

Closing the rest of the gap between them, he cradled her face between his hands again. “Then don’t treat me as if I am.”

She tried to remember what it had felt like when she realized her husband of seven years was leaving her because she’d given him what he’d considered a defective son. The pain had been crushing, though in retrospect, she could admit that most of the hurt was for what he was doing to their son.

But all she could remember was the sound of Harlan’s voice, full of affection and appreciation for her beautiful, difficult son. All she could see was the fire smoldering in his eyes right now, as he gazed at her as if she were the most desirable creature in the world.

She closed her hands over his wrists, sliding her fingertips lightly over the muscles and tendons there until her touch elicited a soft gasp from his lips.

Rising to the tips of her toes, she brushed her lips against his, a shaky breath escaping her throat.

Fingers tangling in her hair, he brought her closer, deepening the kisses until she felt drunk and fevered. She felt something hard and flat against her back-the wall, she realized in a haze of heat and need. He’d pushed her up against the wall. And she liked it. The fierce passion of what they were doing, the reckless abandon, the promise of fire and pleasure.

Why had she fought so hard against this? As Harlan’s hands dropped to her hips, tugging her flush against his hardness, she knew she couldn’t keep fighting something she wanted so much.

She dragged her lips away from his long enough to say, “We can’t wake Zachary up.”

Harlan nuzzled his way to her ear to whisper, “Umm, how hard a sleeper is he, anyway?”

Arching her neck to give him better access, she slipped her hand between their bodies and released a soft laugh as he uttered a low groan in response to her touch. “You’re a Marine. You know how to be stealthy, don’t you?”

He caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers and tugging her toward the hall to the bedrooms. “So we’re at war?” His blistering gaze met hers.

She closed the bedroom door behind her and turned to face him, unable to stop a smile of sheer exhilaration. “Not anymore. Now we’re just negotiating the terms of surrender.”

Harlan reached for the top button her blouse. “Who won?”

“Who cares?” She kissed the curve of his jaw.

Laughing, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.