Star Bright

  “Oh, yes. Peter expected gourmet—” She broke off and sent him a startled look.

  “It’s okay, Rainie. I’ve always known the man must have a name.”

  She quickly averted her face, hiding her worried expression behind the curtain of her curly hair. “I hope you like chocolate cake.”

  “What’s not to like about chocolate cake? Just don’t go to a lot of trouble, okay? Unlike good old Peter, I don’t expect gourmet.”

  While he installed the bars over her windows, Rainie came in to perch on the edge of the bed. “Thomas must be afraid of men. He’s usually here when I get home.”

  “Thomas, the tomcat?” Parker sent her an amused grin.

  “Maybe he knows Mojo is here. Cats and dogs don’t always get along.”

  She bent to pick up the puppy, who had sunk his teeth into the hem of her skirt. “That could be, I suppose. How long do puppies do this chewy thing?”

  “I have no idea. I’m a novice, remember. I imagine it gets better once they’re finished teethin’.” Parker braced his feet to put some muscle into tightening a bolt. “There you are, Rainie mine,” he said as he stepped back to survey his handiwork. “You’ve got bars on your windows.”

  She set the puppy aside to come and look. With slender fingertips, she tested the steel. “Oh, Parker, these are fabulous.”

  “Well, fabulous is overkill. They need some paint. Will you do them in black or some other color?”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “Probably ecru, like the walls, so they won’t be so noticeable.”

  “Good plan.” He collected his tools. “Now to reinforce the door.”

  Before the sun set that evening, Parker had finished with her bedroom, and Rainie had supper on the table. She felt oddly nervous as he sat down across from her.

  “It isn’t exactly Romano’s,” she told him.

  “It looks awesome!” He started to reach for the meat loaf, then remembered his hat and cast her a sheepish look. “Sorry.” He removed the Stetson and set it on a chair beside him. Then, as he leaned forward to lift the platter, the table wobbled, slopping wine over the edge of her goblet onto the embroidered tablecloth. “Uh-oh. Damn, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’m an expert at removing wine stains.”

  He glimpsed a haunted darkness in her eyes just before she glanced away to blot up the spill of crimson. She was such a mystery, this lady. He had understood her sudden pallor when he’d mentioned the possibility of her going back home someday to retrieve her things. But why had she gotten so upset about revealing Peter’s name? And now she was in a dither over a wine spill? Parker suspected it all would make sense once he learned more about her, but for now, he was left trying to connect the dots and couldn’t see a picture forming.

  “I’m sorry about the table,” she said. “One leg is bent. The wobble can be bothersome.”

  He leaned down to examine the leg. “When supper’s over, I’ll have a look. Maybe I can shore it up on that side with a wedge of steel.”

  “That would be great.”

  Rainie had shared enough meals with Parker by now to know that he would pray before he started to eat. She waited with her hands folded in her lap, giving thanks for the food in her own way while he crossed himself and murmured his blessing. Afterward, he helped himself to a large serving of meat loaf before passing her the platter. He was so relaxed that Rainie felt the tension easing from her shoulders.

  “Oh, man, this is good,” he said, cheek bulging with meat, a fork heaped with mashed potatoes hovering at his lips. “I hired you for the wrong job.”

  Rainie laughed, pleased that he was enjoying the meal. “I learned everything from books. This is a pretty simple meal, actually. Sometime I’ll fix you my Tuesday-night special, chicken cordon bleu.”

  Parker stopped chewing. “Did you make it for Peter?”

  Rainie dropped her gaze to her plate. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d forget his name and never say it again.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She glanced back up. “Yes, I fixed it for him. Why do you ask?”

  “Because your eyes looked sad when you said it was your Tuesday-night special.” He took a sip of wine. “I don’t think I want you to make it for me, not if it brings back bad memories. Come up with a new special that you never fixed for . . .” He set the goblet back down. “What did you say his name was, again?”

  Rainie laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I can’t remember.”

  He winked at her. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  For the remainder of the meal, he talked about his childhood, telling her funny stories about the mischief he and his brothers had perpetrated. The silliness helped Rainie to separate herself from the memories of Peter’s rage when she’d gotten her days mixed up and served him chicken cordon bleu on the wrong night. It also distanced her from the time when he’d rubbed her face in the spilled wine. With Parker sitting across from her, those moments seemed to have happened a lifetime ago.

  While Rainie was serving dessert, Thomas came home. Mojo, who’d been napping at Parker’s feet, was awakened by the sound of the rubber flap of the pet door opening and closing. The puppy yipped with excitement and made a bee-line for the cat. Thomas bristled and arched his back, clearly ready for battle, but before Mojo could reach him, he avoided the altercation by leaping onto the table. Rainie held her breath, afraid Parker might grow angry. A lot of people didn’t like it when cats jumped up on kitchen surfaces.

  But Parker only grinned, reaching out to pet the cat while steadying his wineglass. “So this is Thomas.”

  The tomcat was soon curled up on Parker’s lap, purring to beat the band.

  “He likes you,” Rainie observed.

  “I’m an animal person. He probably senses that.” He glanced down at Mojo. “Doesn’t seem to like dogs much, though. Maybe, over time, they’ll become friends.”

  Rainie took Parker a piece of cake. To her surprise, he allowed Thomas to remain on his lap while he ate the dessert.

  When the meal was over, he insisted on helping her with the dishes and going around the house to do puppy cleanup. When everything was tidy, he collected his equipment and tools, took them out to his truck, and then returned to get Mojo and tell her good night.

  Standing at the door with the puppy tucked under one arm, he said, “Supper was awesome, Rainie. I really enjoyed it. Thanks for invitin’ me.”

  Rainie’s cheeks went warm. “It was the least I could do. Thank you for all your hard work. I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

  He opened the door to leave, then turned back. Before she could guess what he meant to do, he bent and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “Good night. Sleep tight.”

  And with that, he was gone. Rainie rubbed the spot where his lips had set her skin to tingling. Then she hurriedly engaged the dead bolts on her front door. Outside she heard his truck engine roar to life. A moment later, she caught the sound of the knobby tires grabbing asphalt as he drove away.

  She had just released a dreamy sigh when her cell phone rang, making her jump with a start. No one ever called her anymore. She ran into the kitchen to pluck the device from her purse.

  “Hello?”

  Parker’s voice came over the line, as deep and rich as if he were still in the room. “Just for the record, that wasn’t a sneak kiss. You saw it comin’.”

  Rainie grinned in spite of herself.

  “It was also only a kiss between friends, so don’t start readin’ any hidden agenda into it. All right?”

  She cradled the phone to her cheek as she sank onto a chair. The table wobbled under the press of her elbow.

  “Rainie, are you there?”

  “I’m here. You forgot to fix my table.”

  “Uh-oh.” She heard the deep rumble of his laugh. The sound sent waves of warmth through her. “What do you say to us workin’ out a deal? I’ll fix the table in exchange for another home-cooked meal.”

 
Rainie hadn’t anticipated having Parker as a dinner guest again. But then, she was quickly coming to realize that Parker Harrigan was full of surprises. That brotherly kiss on her forehead had not been what she would have expected from him. It had touched her, actually. He’d kept his word, treating her like a friend. For some reason, the realization made her eyes burn.

  “That sounds like a deal to me,” she managed to say without a wobble in her voice. “I forgot to pay you for the steel. It totally slipped my mind.”

  “You’re in charge of the ranch checkbook these days.” His truck engine rumbled in the background. “Deduct it from next month’s wages. I’ll leave the receipt on your desk.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Grab a pencil and paper, would you? I need you to write somethin’ down.”

  Rainie hurried over to the counter where she kept her phone book and shopping list. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  He recited his phone numbers to her, saying each digit slowly. Then he asked her to repeat them back to him. When he was satisfied that she had them right, he said, “Enter them into speed dial on all your phones, including the cell. If anything happens when you’re there alone, call me before you dial the cops.”

  Rainie squeezed her eyes closed, surprised and touched yet again. “You live so far out.”

  “I can be there in ten minutes.”

  “What?” Rainie had made the drive many times and doubted that was possible. “That’s crazy, Parker. It’s a thirty-minute trip.”

  “You haven’t seen me open this baby up. Just trust me on it. Okay? If anything happens, I’ll get there before the police do, guaranteed.”

  Rainie nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “All right. Consider yourself entered in my speed dial.”

  “Thanks. I’ll rest better knowin’ you can hot-dial me. Just don’t panic and forget to do it. No need to stay on the line. If I get a hang-up call from you, I’ll know you’re in trouble and be there before shit becomes shat.”

  Rainie had never heard that expression. “Thank you, Parker. No matter what, I’ll remember to call you. I promise.”

  She was smiling as she broke the connection. Then she immediately did as he had asked, entering his numbers into her phones. It comforted her to know he was only the push of a button away. The realization troubled her. Parker Harrigan was worming his way straight into her heart, and she couldn’t seem to stop it from happening. He made her want. Not in a sexual way. Peter had cured her of those yearnings. No, Parker made her want other things—to feel his big hand holding hers, to feel his strong arms around her, to hear the steady thump of his heart when she pressed her cheek to his solid chest. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but being near Parker made her feel safe, and to her, feeling safe was complete bliss.

  A few minutes later, as she prepared for bed, she felt Parker’s presence everywhere in her bedroom. He was in her phones. He was in the bars over her windows and door. For the first time since she’d moved in, she didn’t bother to lock the bathroom door while she showered. Not even Peter could pass through steel. In order to get to her, he’d need a hacksaw, and even then, it would take him several minutes to cut his way through the heavy metal.

  After turning out the lights, Rainie snuggled under the covers with Thomas. She didn’t shiver with dread as the shadows closed in around her. Peter no longer lurked in the darkness.

  Parker Harrigan did.

  Chapter Nine

  Mojo loved his new toys. The Tasmanian Devil squeaked, and the puppy seemed to find that highly entertaining, which allowed Rainie some uninterrupted time to work. Or so she thought. She’d just settled at her desk with a mug of coffee and a pile of invoices that needed to be logged into the computer when a rap came at the office door. She glanced up in bewilderment because Parker never knocked and his employees rarely visited the office.

  “Come in,” she called out.

  The door swung open to reveal an older version of Parker standing at the threshold. He wore the usual ranch-issue clothing, a faded blue chambray shirt, and equally faded Wrangler jeans. His dark brown Stetson sat at a jaunty angle on his salt-and-pepper head. At his narrow waist, he sported a hand-tooled leather belt with a fancy silver-and-gold buckle. His dusty, nicked riding boots looked almost as old as he was, which Rainie guessed to be about sixty, although he had the physique of a much younger man.

  “Hi,” she said, determining immediately that he must be Frank Harrigan, the family patriarch.

  He gave her a long study that made her feel like a bug specimen in a bottle. Then his brown eyes warmed on hers and began to twinkle. He inclined his head in a brief nod. “Howdy. I’m Parker’s dad, Frank.”

  As he stepped into the room, he moved with the same easy grace as his son, the contours of his well-muscled body impressive for a man his age. The powerful set of his shoulders drew the cloth of his shirt taut over his upper arms, and the denim of his jeans showcased strong, roped thighs.

  Rainie pushed up from her chair and stepped around the desk to offer him her hand. “I’m the bookkeeper, Anna Pritchard.”

  As his leathery fingers closed around hers, he said, “I thought Parker said your name was Rainie.”

  “Oh. That’s my nickname.”

  “You cry a lot as a kid or somethin’?”

  She laughed nervously. “No, not really. It’s just what my dad called me.”

  “That’s what I’ll call you then.” He released her hand to nudge up his hat. After watching Mojo for a moment, he grinned and shook his head, his resemblance to Parker so marked that Rainie couldn’t stop staring. “This place looks like a tornado struck.”

  “The tornado’s name is Mojo. He likes to rip up the newspapers.”

  “I can see that.” Frank crouched beside the puppy and grabbed the toy. Mojo braced his stout little legs, let out a ferocious growl, and began tugging in the other direction. Frank laughed. “He’s got spunk. I’ll say that for him.”

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Rainie offered. “I just made a fresh pot.”

  “I’d love one,” he replied. “A dollop of cream and one sugar, please.”

  Rainie went to the coffee room. When she returned a moment later, Frank Harrigan had settled his narrow hips against the edge of Parker’s desk. He accepted the coffee with a nod of thanks, took a cautious sip, and then said, “I meant to come over and meet you sooner, but Dee Dee has had me busy with honey-dos. Got it into her head that the house needed fixin’ up—new drapes, new furniture, and all manner of other changes.” He shrugged. “Looked fine the way it was to me, but Dee Dee wasn’t in a frame of mind to ask my opinion.”

  Rainie smiled. “Maybe she just needed to put her own stamp on things.”

  He nodded. “Could be, I reckon. When we got married, she sold her place. Maybe this is her way of makin’ a new nest.”

  Rainie settled back down at her desk, wondering about the purpose of his visit. “Parker is in the arena, I think.”

  “He is. I saw him on my way in.” He flashed a grin at her. “I’m not here to see Parker. I’m here to see you.”

  “Oh.” Rainie waited for him to say more, but no explanation was forthcoming. “What are you here to see me about?” she finally asked.

  “Nothin’ in particular. Just wanted to meet you and say welcome.” He took another swallow of coffee. “Parker says you’re a damn fine bookkeeper.”

  “He does?”

  Frank chuckled. “You seem surprised. Don’t you agree with that estimation?”

  Rainie picked up her mug and cradled it between her hands. “I suppose I do, yes, although I must say that bookkeeping isn’t my specialty.”

  “What is your specialty?”

  “Business analysis, only in a very personal, hands-on way. I worked with entrepreneurs, helping them to redesign the workplace, develop employee incentive programs, and streamline expenses, allowing for higher pay structures and increased profits.”

  His grizzled eyebrows arched. ?
??You can do all that?”

  “I was learning. Things happened, and I never finished my internship.”

  “Ah.” He mulled that over for a moment. “Life got in the way, huh?”

  Rainie found herself starting to relax. He had kind eyes and an irresistible smile that made her feel as if she’d known him for years. “That’s a good way of putting it,” she agreed. “Life does get in the way sometimes.”

  “Are you sorry? About havin’ to quit your internship, I mean.”

  It had been a long time since Rainie had allowed herself to think about her destroyed dreams. It came as something of a surprise to realize that she no longer mourned their loss. “Not really, no. I’m happy here.” She took a sip of her coffee, marveling at the truth of that statement. She was happy here—absolutely and completely happy. “The work isn’t too demanding, Parker pays me well, and”—she glanced at Mojo, who was still chewing on his toy—“things never get dull.”

  Frank laughed. “Hold your hat, darlin’. Things will only get livelier. Come next spring, you’ll be bottle-feedin’ and imprintin’ foals.”

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I didn’t sign on to work with the horses.”

  He grinned mischievously. “And you think that’ll make you exempt? Think again. Things get crazy around here when the mares start droppin’ foals, and Parker’s not shy about enlistin’ volunteers.”

  In Rainie’s experience, Parker wasn’t shy about much of anything. “What, exactly, is imprinting?”

  “That’s how those horses out there got so gentle, from bein’ imprinted. You essentially desensitize the foal to all manner of things that will frighten him when he grows older. Parker starts ’em off right after they’re born. He’ll have you out there helpin’ him, mark my words. Durin’ foalin’ season, he gets stretched mighty thin, and imprintin’ is the single most important thing he does durin’ that time.”

  A month ago, the mere thought of being recruited to work with the horses would have alarmed Rainie, but now she no longer felt quite so intimidated by the huge creatures. Montana had come to expect treats from her when she entered the stable each morning, and soon all of the other horses had started expecting them as well. She’d been nervous at first, but the animals were so careful not to bite her as they took a carrot or apple slice that she soon stopped being afraid.