Smiling, Miranda turned from the gate. “While Luke gets acquainted with Stormy, I’ll take Tornado back to his stall. The other horses are eating. I think he missed dinner.”
That was true. Cookie and Ethel had already fed the animals. “They probably put hay in his feeder already. You want to give him his evening ration of grain?”
She smiled up at Zach, her eyes glowing with warmth. “I’d love to.”
Zach glanced at Luke. “Hey, buddy, will you be okay for a few minutes?”
Tightening his hand over the mini’s halter grip, Luke stopped petting the mare. “Can Rosebud stay with me?”
“Sure. The stallion section’s only about sixty feet away.” Zach wondered if Luke had a mental image of how long sixty feet was. The kid had undoubtedly learned measurements in school, but that didn’t mean he could picture them. “Be right back.”
Tornado didn’t protest being returned to his stall. Zach remained outside the gate, allowing Mandy to shut the paddock doors and give the stallion his grain. Watching woman and stallion, Zach got an almost surreal feeling. He totally agreed with Ethel: With Mandy, Tornado was a different horse.
Minutes later, Mandy and Luke sat on the porch, snacking on corn chips and salsa—Zach’s version of an appetizer. Mandy appreciated Zach’s approach to entertaining. The simplicity allowed her to relax and enjoy the moment. And Mandy was enjoying it. The weather was perfect, with only a slight nip in the air as the afternoon gave way to evening. As the darkness deepened, Zach lit the gas fire pit, and Mandy helped Luke move his chair to sit by the dancing flames. She thought about getting Luke his jacket, but he seemed fine without it.
Mandy took a deep breath, appreciating the smells that surrounded her, the scent of pine trees mingling with the aroma of the searing meat that Zach had just put on the grill. Sitting beside her brother, she munched on chips and shared the salsa with him.
While the steaks cooked, Zach disappeared into the house. Moments later, he shouldered his way back out the screen door, holding two wide-mouthed goblets, each half-filled with purplish red wine. Grinning, he offered one of the glasses to Mandy.
Her stomach knotted, and she actually felt the color drain from her face. “No, thank you.” Even to her ears, her voice rang cold and sharp. “I don’t drink.”
Zach treated her to a long, penetrating look. “Okay. More wine for me, I guess. Can I get you and Luke a soda?”
“None for me, thank you,” Mandy managed to push out.
Luke said, “I’m good for right now. Maybe I’ll have some soda with dinner.”
Get a grip, Mandy thought. It’s only a little wine. But the silent lecture she gave herself didn’t loosen the ball of tension in her middle, and to her dismay, she felt herself start to shake. She watched Zach set both wineglasses on the redwood barbecue shelf. Nausea crawled up her throat. Sweat filmed her face and the back of her neck.
“Stay calm,” Luke whispered. “Lots of people drink wine at dinnertime, no big deal.”
But to Mandy, it was a big deal. Her every childhood memory had been tainted by her father’s drinking. Maybe it was irrational—no maybe to it; it was irrational—but to her, being around a man who drank was as chilling and frightening as having a loaded gun pointed at her head. And, oh, God, she felt betrayed, as if Zach had tricked her. Until now, she’d seen him touch no alcohol, and she’d started to think he never did.
Mandy struggled to calm down. This visit was for Luke, and she couldn’t ruin it for him by saying or doing something stupid. How she felt didn’t matter. Racing for her car and leaving wasn’t an option. Somehow she’d get through dinner, smiling. She would not let on that being around alcohol made her feel panicky and claustrophobic.
Zach lifted the lid of the grill and glanced over his shoulder toward the fire pit. “I like my steak rare. How would you two like yours?”
Luke put in an order for medium. Mandy’s heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it might crack a rib. “I, um ... Any old way is fine for me. I’m not fussy.”
Zach pinned her with another of those thoughtful looks that seemed to pierce her skin like a laser. Then he turned the meat and lowered the lid.
A bit later, when they sat down for dinner at Zach’s beautifully set kitchen table, Mandy’s tension mounted. The remaining wineglass was set only three feet away from her, the deep red liquid inside it glinting in the overhead light. For her, it was like trying to eat with a coiled rattlesnake near her plate. She took a bite of meat and nearly choked as she swallowed. She pushed the food around, making little piles so it would appear that she’d consumed some of it. The untouched steak was a dead giveaway, so she cut off pieces that never went in her mouth.
Zach attempted to keep a conversation going, but Mandy was too distracted to offer anything more than monosyllabic rejoinders. When Luke dropped his fork, she jumped as if she’d been scalded. She tried not to watch Zach when he sipped the wine, but she couldn’t stop herself. Once when he caught her gaping at him, the expression that crossed his dark face asked more clearly than words, What the hell is this all about?
Mandy couldn’t have explained that to him if she tried. Luke was right: A lot of people enjoyed wine with dinner. It wasn’t as if Zach were getting pie-eyed. Unfortunately, Mandy could tell herself that repeatedly and still couldn’t control the mix of torrential emotions that kept crashing through her.
If it hadn’t been for Luke, the meal would have been a nightmare. He talked excitedly about his walks with Rosebud and even asked questions about how she had been trained. Zach responded with appropriate noises. Mandy could tell that he wished for the meal to be over, and she shared the sentiment. Even the German chocolate cake she’d brought didn’t lighten the mood. She refused dessert, saying she was full.
Once the meal was over, Mandy offered to help with cleanup, but Zach declined. “I didn’t think to pitch in last night when you fed me. Turnabout’s fair play.”
The relief Mandy felt must have shown on her face, because she saw a spark of anger flash in his eyes. She didn’t blame him for that. He’d entertained them all afternoon. He’d been wonderful with Luke. Under any other circumstances, she would have savored every bite of her meal. Intellectually, she knew none of this was his fault, that her reaction to the wine had been and still was absurd.
Even so, she couldn’t wait to leave. “Thank you for the lovely afternoon and dinner. It was fun. But if you won’t let me help with the dishes, Luke and I really should be going.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll have to work tonight to make up for goofing off today.”
“Can I take one more walk with Rosebud?” her brother asked. “Just a short one?”
Mandy glanced out the window. “It’s dark, Luke. Another time, perhaps.”
“For me, it’s always dark,” Luke argued. “Come on, Mandy, please?”
“I said no, Luke. We need to get home.”
Luke must have heard something in her voice, because he allowed her to hustle him to the car. Mandy’s hands shook as she grasped the steering wheel.
“This is great,” Luke said, his voice sharp with resentment. “Just frigging great. You yammered at me nonstop to make friends with Rosebud, and then when I do, you ruin everything by freaking out over a little wine.”
“I didn’t say a word!” Mandy cried as she backed up the car to turn around.
“You didn’t need to. The tension at that table was so thick I could have cut it with a knife! Do you think Zach’s stupid? That he didn’t realize you were upset? Get real.”
“I tried my best, Luke. Now, please, just drop it. Give me a few minutes to pull myself back together.”
“Would you listen to yourself? Why do you need to pull yourself back together over some stupid wine? He’s not our father. Got it?”
Troubled by Mandy’s behavior, Zach remained on the porch to wave them off. When the Honda disappeared, he gazed thoughtfully at Rosebud, who stood at his side. Luke had made great strides with her today. The ice had
been broken, and the kid was starting to realize and relish the freedom the mini could offer him.
Unfortunately, Zach had lost ground with Mandy and he couldn’t think why. He mentally rewound the evening. Had it been the wine? Up until he offered her a glass, she’d been laughing and talking, apparently having a good time. Then, bang, she’d gone as stiff as a frozen water hose. Zach didn’t get it. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten toasted. Most people couldn’t on only two glasses.
Screw it. If she chose not to drink, fine. That didn’t mean the rest of the world had to follow suit. If she didn’t like it, that was her problem. He wasn’t going to make it his.
After getting Luke tucked in, Mandy sat on the sofa in the dark living room, arms looped around her knees, head resting against the back cushion. The faint scent of barbecue smoke clung to her sweatshirt, making her want to change tops, but right then she didn’t have the energy. Instead she listened to the creaks and groans of the old house settling, familiar sounds that normally soothed her. Not tonight.
She had work she needed to be doing, but she was too upset and frustrated with herself right then to concentrate. Idiot. She’d really started to like Zach Harrigan. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to go anywhere with it in her fantasies, the possibilities had still tickled at the back of her mind. Did he like her as much as she liked him? Maybe something special could come of it. Zach would be so good for Luke. Her brother had never had a decent male role model, only an alcoholic father who got staggering drunk and flew into violent rages.
Zach had seemed so different—until he brought out the wine. Since childhood, Mandy had had a huge problem with alcohol consumption. With her dad, it had all started with a glass of wine, an infrequent and seemingly harmless indulgence, according to what Mandy’s mother had told her. But then his drinking had escalated to a daily thing, he’d turned to hard liquor, and the amounts had increased. To this day, Mandy could remember watching him with a suffocating fear, waiting for that moment when he would go over the edge. And her father had always gone over the edge.
By age fifteen, Mandy had come to detest alcohol in any form. Wine, beer, whiskey—she hated them all. And she’d sworn never to touch them. She’d also sworn that she would never be like her mother, falling into a trap, married to a brutal alcoholic.
As irrational as Mandy knew it was, just the sight of someone drinking frightened her. That first night when she’d faked the car trouble, Zach had served Tucker and Cookie whiskey, but he hadn’t poured any for himself, leading her to think he kept liquor on hand only for his guests. Stupid me. She’d been about to do something really dumb, like fall in love with him, and she was extremely lucky to have learned the truth about him tonight. But she didn’t feel lucky. She felt empty. And alone.
Just the thought of falling in love with him made her wonder at herself. She’d sworn since her late teens never to give her heart to any man. Falling in love often led to marriage, and the very thought of that terrified her. She’d seen what it was like for her mom, working from dawn to dark and long into the night, not to mention enduring physical abuse day in and day out. Granted, Mandy knew all marriages didn’t turn out that way, but she was also aware that a woman never really got to know a man until it was too late. Zach clearly had money. His father was rich and had evidently shared the wealth. All those horses hadn’t come cheap, and that fabulous ranch hadn’t, either.
In so many ways, Zach was like Mandy’s dad—wellheeled, handsome, charming, and influential in the community. And he drank as well. No how, no way. She never wanted to see him again. There was something about him that made her a little addle-brained, and that could be dangerous. She had the awful feeling he could sell her the Brooklyn Bridge if he set his mind to it.
Determined though Mandy was to stay clear of the man, she couldn’t quite reason away the sharp pang of disappointment in her chest. He’d seemed so nice and wonderful. She’d been so close to throwing caution to the wind and taking the plunge. It could have been so perfect—if only he didn’t drink.
Zach stood at his granite kitchen countertop, frowning at the half-empty wine bottle. It was definitely the wine that had set Mandy off. Had to have been. She had been all smiles until she saw the merlot. A sudden memory came to him—how Mandy had grown pale and moved away from the table that first night when he’d gotten the Jack Daniel’s out of the cupboard for Tucker’s Irish coffee. He’d known people who disapproved of alcohol, but she’d acted almost afraid of the stuff. Weird.
Bewildered, Zach dumped the rest of the wine down the sink. His drink of choice was beer. He drank wine only before or with meals, didn’t cook all that much, and by morning, that was all the wine would be good for.
Normally most Catholics were pretty relaxed individuals, but Zach had encountered a few zealots over the years. Maybe Mandy was one of them, an ultrareligious extremist who didn’t believe in drinking, dancing, going to the movies, or playing cards. If so, he was damned lucky to have found out tonight. Maybe that accounted for the Little Miss Innocent look in her eyes, because she’d spent her whole life avoiding everything fun.
Well, Zach was no puritan. He enjoyed a lot of things in moderation, and drinking was one of them. Yes, he overindulged sometimes, but he sure as hell didn’t make a habit of it anymore. Hello, he’d finally grown up.
I’m not a bad guy, he assured himself as he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer. And I’m sure as hell not an alcoholic. Miranda Pajeck—right then he didn’t want to think of her as Mandy—could take her judgmental attitude and shove it.
As the last of the ale slid down his throat, he lifted the empty longneck in an imaginary toast to her. “Put that in your puritanical pipe and smoke it, sweetheart.”
Two weeks passed, and Mandy didn’t call. Zach refused to be the first one to make a move. To hell with her. Rosebud was making huge progress. In a few more months, she would make some blind person a fabulous guide. Too bad it won’t be Luke. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his sister had gotten her nose out of joint. If avoiding Zach was more important to Miranda than getting a guide horse for her brother, it was her deal. Zach had started to like Luke, difficult as he could be, and he’d begun to hope there was a chance that the young man might straighten up his act.
Zach continued to sleep in the arena every night outside Tornado’s stall. At first the horse pushed his rump into a far corner, avoiding Zach as if he had the plague, venturing forward only to rub noses with Rosebud. Then, as the days passed, the stallion moved closer, sleeping dead center in his stall.
It was a fine morning when Zach was jerked awake long before dawn by a velvety nibble on his cheek. Thinking it was Rosebud, he pushed at the nose, registering its size only as he came more awake. Tornado. The stallion whickered and nudged Zach’s shoulder, as if to say, Wake up, you lazy sot.
Zach smiled groggily. “Hey, big guy,” he said softly, mimicking Mandy. Thinking of her made his heart catch, and that rankled. “How’s it hanging this morning?”
A quick glance told Zach that everything was hanging just fine for Tornado, and the same held true for himself. Why was it that males always woke up with a hard-on? Zach needed to take a leak, and apparently so did the stallion, because just then he let loose. Wake-up call. Zach sat up, fast. When a horse pissed, the splatter effect was—well, far-reaching. He didn’t want it in the face.
As Zach stood, Tornado turned his head sideways to nudge the treat pack on Zach’s belt. Zach scooped out some pellets. As Tornado enjoyed the snack, Zach hesitantly rubbed the flat spot between the horse’s eyes. The stallion didn’t object. It was the first time Zach had ever been able to touch the animal without forcing the issue.
“Well, now, we’re making some progress, aren’t we?” Zach whispered. “You finally starting to think I’m okay?”
In response to that question, Tornado grabbed Zach’s hand and bit down like a grain masher. Pain. Zach managed to jerk his fingers from the animal’s mouth. Did a dance, the kind one executed when to
o breathless with agony to speak. And then, when his lungs could work again, he yelled, “You misbegotten, recalcitrant bastard!”
The arena lights came on, and Cookie appeared on the landing. “There’s a bucket over yonder. Just don’t bust your toe.”
Zach flapped his hand and glared up at Cookie, who was grinning from ear to ear. “That’s real helpful. I almost lost all five digits, and you’re directing me to a bucket?”
The old foreman shrugged. “That’s your way, kickin’ buckets.” He settled a thoughtful gaze on the stallion, who was now pummeling the walls of his stall. “What’s up with the little lady? Haven’t seen her around lately. She worked magic with him.”
“You won’t be seeing her again,” Zach shot back. “She’s as crazy as the horse is!”
“That’s too bad. I liked her.” Cookie turned toward the door of his apartment. “Breakfast is on. I cooked for two. Denver omelets this mornin’. If you get over your grump, you’re welcome to join me.”
At twelve minutes past noon, Zach’s cell phone chirped. When he glanced at the screen, a smug grin touched his lips. Mandy. She’d evidently searched her call records to retrieve his cell number. Oh, yeah. It was her turn to eat crow. Had the little lady decided that her abhorrence of alcohol wasn’t quite as strong as her desire to get a free guide horse for Luke? Hmm. Well, he wouldn’t let her off easy. Hell, no. Not that he wanted any part of her on a permanent basis, but sometimes revenge was sweet.
Zach opened his phone. “Yo, Zach Harrigan here.”
He was geared up to hear Mandy’s voice. Instead a hesitant male baritone came over the air. “Mr. Harrigan? Hi, this is Luke.”
Zach regrouped. “Hey, Luke. How’s it goin’, buddy?”
“I, um ... well, you’re probably surprised it’s me.”
Damn straight. Zach still felt deflated. “I am. How’d you get my cell number?”
“It was on our caller list. Mandy got me special phones that talk.”