On the way to her door, Zach had admired the fresh paint on the exterior siding and the tidiness of the yard. He could tell she spent a lot of time on maintenance. The interior, filled with what looked like garage-sale purchases, had a warm, cozy ambience that Zach’s expensively furnished house lacked. He had no idea what Miranda did for a living, but if she worked all week, how did she keep everything so nice? From what he’d seen so far, Luke himself was a full-time job and then some.
She smiled at him, apparently uncertain what to do or say next. That made two of them, an unfamiliar experience for Zach. As he looked at her, he got the same feeling he’d gotten the first time he saw her. With her auburn hair loose around her shoulders and her face flushed with excitement, she was even lovelier than he remembered, not in the flashy way he’d always preferred, but in an understated, classy way. Searching her gaze, he once again noticed that innocent look, which baffled him. He guessed her to be in her late twenties. Such a pretty woman had to have had her share of boyfriends. But something about her told Zach that wasn’t the case. Wearing an off-white cotton-knit sweater and tidily creased gray slacks, she emanated a schoolgirl sweetness that was totally at odds with Zach’s knowledge of women her age.
The house smelled faintly of fish, but the scents that made Zach’s empty belly rumble were those of warm-from-the-oven chocolate-chip cookies—he could recognize that smell from a mile away—and freshly brewed coffee. Unlike the Pajecks, he hadn’t had dinner. He’d worked with Rosebud from two until four thirty, then had spent two frustrating hours with Tornado. He’d lost track of time, and when he checked his watch, it had been half past six. After a mad dash to the stable restroom to wash up, he’d finger-combed his wet hair, plopped his hat back on, and driven here. It was just as well. Otherwise he might have considered a shower, a change of clothes, and a shave to impress Miranda, and he wasn’t entirely sure that would have been a good idea.
Cookie’s story about the worst thirty seconds of his life had Zach determined not to make the same mistake. Yes, Miranda Pajeck stirred something within him, and yes, he found her attractive, but that was as far as he wanted it to go. It had taken him a while to learn that his dick wasn’t equipped with brains, but now that the lesson was driven home, he no longer allowed that part of his anatomy to do his thinking for him.
“Are you hungry?” Miranda asked, her guileless hazel eyes fixed on his in question.
Damn. Zach wondered if she’d heard his stomach growl. Nailed. “Yeah, I am a little. I keep rancher’s hours, which means I eat supper whenever the day is done, and sometimes that’s midnight or after.”
“Well, I can fix you right up. I put the food away after dinner, but I’m sure it’s still fairly warm, and we have coffee and cookies for dessert.”
Zach detested fish and would have preferred going straight for the cookies. “That sounds great.”
He bent to remove the guiding gear from Rosebud’s stout little body. The moment the palomino sensed freedom, she made a beeline for Miranda, who welcomed her with the hugs and scratches that Rosebud loved to receive. Then, to Zach’s surprise, the mini went directly to Luke, exhibiting no hesitation at all before she nudged his bony knee. Luke started as if he’d been stuck with a pin. But Rosebud wasn’t going to be put off by shyness. She stretched her neck to nuzzle Luke’s hand and whickered.
Zach didn’t understand Rosebud’s apparent eagerness to make friends with Luke. The kid was a jerk. But the mini seemed to think otherwise. The worry within Zach eased somewhat. Maybe Rosebud sensed something in Luke that Zach couldn’t. She didn’t get side-tracked when the youth jerked his hand back. She just nudged his other hand and patiently waited for him to reciprocate with a friendly hello.
Luke clamped both hands to his chest, his expression appalled. “What’s it doing? That’s the horse, right? Why’s she bumping me? Does she bite?”
When Miranda didn’t speak, Zach did. “No, she doesn’t bite, Luke. She never has. I think she’s taken a liking to you. She’s just trying to make friends.”
The tension eased from Luke’s body. “I don’t know if I want to get friendly so soon.”
Fortunately, Rosebud’s vocabulary was limited to commands and words of praise, so she took no offense at the comment. Watching his horse, Zach almost chuckled. Rosebud seemed to know somehow that Luke was different from every other human she’d ever met. It was almost as if the mini realized that Luke, or someone like him, was her destiny in life, and she was determined to get off to a good start with him.
The palomino lifted her right front hoof and plopped it on Luke’s thigh. The kid jumped. “What’s that?” he cried. He tried to move away but he was already at the end of the sofa and succeeded only in bunching himself into the corner.
Miranda laughed. “She wants to shake hands, Luke. You’re being very rude. You don’t want to hurt her feelings, do you?”
Luke looked none too concerned about hurting Rosebud’s feelings, but to his credit, he extended his hand, which hung in the air above Rosebud’s hoof. Rosebud rectified that by placing her foot in the loose curve of Luke’s palm. Luke gave a nervous laugh.
“She really does want to shake hands.” The kid carefully pumped the mini’s foot up and down. “Wow. Hi, Rosebud. My name’s Luke.”
Rosebud nickered, withdrew her hoof from the kid’s grasp, and went for more satisfying physical contact, burying her muzzle in the vee of Luke’s thighs, perilously close to his crotch. Luke almost came up from the sofa, but then he laughed and relaxed, hesitantly feathering his fingertips over Rosebud’s fluffy forelock and tracing the bony lines of her head and face. Rosebud ate it up.
“She’s little,” Luke said, clearly fascinated. “And she likes being scratched.”
The youth found the hollows behind Rosebud’s ears and rubbed vigorously. Rosebud grunted and pressed closer.
“I think she likes you, Luke,” Miranda inserted.
Luke smiled. Rosebud almost crawled up in his lap. At that juncture, Miranda turned to Zach, gestured toward the kitchen, and said, “Shall we? It’ll give them some time by themselves to get acquainted.”
Zach still wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Rosebud alone with a kid who had taken swings at his sister, but he figured he’d be close enough to come to his mini’s rescue if Luke got out of line. He fell into step behind his hostess. His gaze dropped to the tantalizing swing of her hips. Hot damn. She was put together nicely.
“Have a seat.” She gestured at a small round table encircled by four chairs. “Heating everything up won’t take but a minute.”
Zach deposited his hat on an adjacent chair and sat down, smoothing his hair as she opened the old refrigerator to remove plastic storage containers. While she bustled about, he gave her kitchen a once-over. Because his sister-in-law Loni was an interior decorator, Zach now knew more about tasteful color schemes than he’d ever dreamed he might. Miranda had a talent for it. The sink wall was painted a dark green that set off the window frame, which had been stripped down to bare wood, stained light maple, and was lined with tiny pots producing tender green shoots. The scalloped valance, bright with a flowery pattern of rusts, oranges, reds, greens, and creamy white, reflected the more muted green of the other walls. She’d carried out those colors with accents around the room—crimson pot holders, a rust tablecloth, off-white towels, and strategically placed knickknacks. A person barely noticed the chipped surface of the white range, the yellowed enamel of the fridge, or the cracked linoleum.
As she worked, she moved with brisk but graceful efficiency. While stuff heated in the microwave, she arranged a china place setting in front of him, complete with a linen napkin. Given that there were paper ones in a wicker holder at the center of the table, Zach said, “No need to get fancy. At home, I just grab a paper towel.”
“We use paper napkins during the day, but for dinner, we always use cloth.”
The dimple flashed in her cheek as she leaned around him to arrange the flatware. Her breast graz
ed his shoulder as she straightened. Her scent—that faint hint of roses—had an intoxicating effect and filled his mind with X-rated thoughts he prayed didn’t show on his face. He was grateful to be sitting down with the tablecloth draping his lap. She snatched up a gardening magazine that had lain open to his right and put it on the lower shelf of a telephone stand between the kitchen and dining area.
When she’d finished arranging his place setting, all that was lacking, in Zach’s estimation, was a wineglass. Every other detail was perfect. As she began dishing up the food, the smell of her perfume was eclipsed by the tantalizing aroma of the fish she spooned onto his plate. It was like no fish Zach had ever seen, chunks of white in a creamy sauce, served with steamed asparagus stalks drizzled with hollandaise, mashed potatoes topped with grated cheese, a green salad in a separate bowl, and slices of sourdough on a bread plate with pats of real butter.
As she set a selection of salad dressings on the table, she said, “Sorry. Normally I put the dressings in small ramekins.”
Zach flashed a grin and reached for the creamy ranch. He was unaccustomed to so much folderol. At formal family dinners the Harrigan women went all out, but for everyday meals, eating was a casual affair. “Salad dressing in a bottle is fine by me.”
She sat across from him. The habits of a lifetime had Zach making a quick sign of the cross to say a silent meal blessing before he dug in. Get the worst over first. He went for the fish. After chewing and swallowing, he gave her a wondering look. “What is this stuff? It’s fabulous!”
“It’s just fillet of sole in a cream sauce. Nothing fancy, but I’m glad you like it.”
Zach loved it. “I dread Lent every year because I hate fish. On Fridays during the season, I avoid fish by filling up on eggs and peanut butter.”
“Would you care for something else?”
Zach chuckled. “Try to touch this plate and I’ll bite your arm off. This stuff is delicious. What’d you do, attend a gourmet cooking school?”
A shadow crossed over her face but vanished so quickly Zach wondered if he had imagined it. She sat back down. “My father entertained. After my mom left, the cooking fell to me. She’d already taught me a lot. The rest I learned by trial and error.”
“Not much error, if this is any example.”
She laughed. “Oh, yes, lots of error. No one’s born knowing how to cook.” Her small white teeth closed for an instant on her full lower lip, and she looked away. Then the hostess took over again, and she smiled at him. “I learned quicker than most, I suppose. My father was a stickler for perfection, especially when we had guests.”
As Zach enjoyed a bite of the asparagus, he did some quick mental calculations. If he remembered correctly, Miranda had been only thirteen when her mother left. Had she been put in charge of the kitchen at that age? Surely not, but Zach didn’t know her well enough to ask. So instead he simply enjoyed the meal, which ended with a dessert of delicious chocolate-chip cookies and a mug of perfectly brewed coffee.
“Chewy, just the way I like them,” Zach told her as the chocolate chips melted over his tongue. “I hate when people bake them to a crisp.”
Luke, who’d been served cookies in the living room, called out, “Rosebud wants a cookie, Mr. Harrigan. Is it okay to give her one?”
Zach’s big horses could eat chocolate with no ill effects, but given Rosebud’s diminutive stature and her recent bout with colic, he didn’t want to take any chances. “No,” he called. “Be right there.” Pushing up from his chair, he went to the living room to give Luke a handful of the mini’s training treats from the pouch on his belt.
“She won’t like these as well,” Zach explained as he dumped them into Luke’s cupped palm, “but I don’t want her getting sick again.”
Luke nodded. “How many does she get at once?”
“A couple. When she nudges you, give her more.”
“She’s nice,” Luke said. “Doesn’t stink, either. I thought she might.”
Zach patted the mini’s head. “She gets fairly frequent baths. At my place, I have facilities for that. If you end up having her with you someday, you’ll have to take her into the shower stall and wash her down in there.”
A look of horrified fascination crossed Luke’s face. “Together, me and her? In the shower? Are you serious? What if she steps on my feet?”
Zach bit back a grin. “She won’t, Luke. She’s trained for that. If the time ever comes, you’ll be ready for it. Horses need baths, just like we do.”
When Zach returned to the kitchen, Miranda arched an eyebrow at him, her cheek dimpled in a smile. “He’s warming to the idea, isn’t he?”
“Seems to be.” Zach wasn’t yet ready to change his mind about Luke, but he did have to concede that the young man was making an effort. “We’ll give it some time.” He stared at the spot where the dimple had flashed and scrabbled for some brilliant remark that would make it appear again.
“His initial reluctance really was mostly my fault,” she said softly.
Zach wanted to learn more about why Miranda believed that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to have the conversation where Luke might overhear. “How about showing me the backyard?” he suggested.
“Oh, certainly!” She bounced up from her chair. “It’s out this way.”
Grabbing a thick cardigan from a wall hook, she led him to an old door that, like the window frame, had been stripped down and stained. As she opened it and moved out onto a concrete porch, she gestured at the steep, narrow steps. “If we bring Rosebud here, I hope to build her a ramp with a nonslip surface. And I was thinking that an oversize doggy door might work really well for her, too. That way, she could come and go as she pleased.”
Zach had no reservations whatsoever about Miranda’s suitability to be Rosebud’s next owner. It was her brother who posed the worry.
She leaned back in to flip on the yard lights. As Zach closed the door behind them and followed her onto the lawn, still patchy with snow from the last storm, he worried about her falling. Her footwear wasn’t suited for walking over uneven ground.
“This is it,” she said, gesturing expansively at the yard. “I told you it was large.”
Zach surveyed the area, enclosed by a tall wooden fence. She hadn’t exaggerated. It was big and blessedly uncluttered. One large tree, nude branches stark against the night sky, offered the promise of shade in summer. Fog had moved in, hanging low to create orbs of yellow around the street lamps on the next block. The smell of wood smoke drifted on the air, conjuring images in Zach’s mind of families gathered around fireplaces, their faces washed with gold from the flickering flames.
“Very nice,” he told her, and meant it.
There would be plenty of room for Rosebud to run and play, if she ever lived here. “Where would you locate her shelter?” he asked.
“There.” She pointed to a far corner of the yard. “I have a little snowblower. I can create paths so it’ll be easy to walk out there.”
“It’ll be up to Luke to care for her, you know. That must be his responsibility. It’s necessary for the horse to form a bond with him.”
She gave Zach a sidelong glance. “And you aren’t certain Luke is capable of that.”
“No, I’m not.” Zach saw nothing to be gained by lying. “Are you?”
“He isn’t at the moment,” she conceded. “But with work, he’ll get there.”
“In my experience, no one works for something he doesn’t really want.”
Miranda smiled sadly. “I know Luke made a horrible first impression, Mr. Harrigan, but as I said, his initial reluctance to befriend Rosebud was mostly my fault.”
“The name’s Zach,” he corrected. “And how was it mostly your fault? I don’t mean to sound harsh, but the kid’s nineteen. Don’t you think he’s a little old for you to be taking the blame and making excuses for his bad behavior?”
“Yes, way too old, which brings me back to what I told you last night. When I should have been strict and demanding
, I cut him slack and did everything for him. When I should have disciplined him, I patted his head and pampered him. I was only a kid. I had no idea how to raise a little boy, especially not one with special needs.”
“I know it must have been rough.” Zach wanted to ask where the hell her father had been. Abusive or not, the man must have been present some of the time. “But the past is over. I only care about how Luke is now. I saw him take a swing at you. No matter how sad his personal story, I can’t give Rosebud to someone who might mistreat her.”
She rubbed her arms, making Zach regret his suggestion that they step outside. But this was a talk they needed to have, and it was better if Luke wasn’t privy to it.
“I understand.” In the yard lights, her eyes glistened up at him, large and pleading. “But, please, at least give him another chance. His behavior that first afternoon was deplorable, but it was mostly because he was afraid. At the time, he had it in his head that I wanted to get rid of him. He was fighting the college thing, thinking that I’d make him live elsewhere, then do a happy dance and go on a husband hunt. Now he understands that isn’t my plan at all. I’ve assured him that he can go to college and still live at home. Knowing that, he’s less apprehensive about getting a guide animal now.”
Watching her face as she talked, Zach wondered if she’d ever secretly hoped to be rid of her brother. Apparently she’d been the kid’s primary caregiver for years, and that was a heavy burden. How did she manage to have a social life? Maybe she didn’t. That would account for the innocence he glimpsed in her eyes. The idea jolted him.
“Is your dad able to help out with Luke at all?” Zach asked. She stiffened, and her gaze went flat, but he plowed on anyhow. “I know you said he’s ... well, that there were problems. But surely he contributes financially.”
“Our father is no longer a part of our lives.”
Her tone didn’t invite questions. Well, it was none of his business anyway. He barely knew her. “So, essentially, you’ve been responsible for Luke ever since your mother left?”