A Family After All. Kathy Altman
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become the pet project of some smart-ass with artistic skills. He—or she—liked to monkey with the middle word. Currently the sign read Millbrook Funny Farm. The moniker probably had Ivy’s father rolling over in his grave, but it was fairly accurate.
“I’ve decided to stop wasting energy trying to fix it,” she said. “At least it’s always G-rated. Though I have to admit, I didn’t much like the Fat Farm edition.”
Seth grunted, took off one glove and freed a hunk of hay. “You got someone seeing to Wade’s work while he’s gone?”
In her dreams. “Yes.”
His gaze narrowed. “So you don’t need help picking up the slack?”
“You offering to stop by more often? Give me a hand when I need it? Or—” she propped her chin in her palm, arched her back and gently swayed her hips, enjoying the stretch of the muscles at the backs of her thighs “—maybe there’s another body part you’d be willing to contribute to the cause.”
Seth slapped a palm down on the hay bale. “Need to get this inside,” he said.
His voice carried an edge. She peered at him, watched his gaze flick from her face to the front of the truck, saw the color streak his cheekbones and glanced behind her. Oh. Oh. It wasn’t the front of the truck that had snagged his attention but her reflection in the sliding window. With her chest nearly touching the hay bale and her ass in the air, her position seemed somewhat...suggestive.
It was affecting him.
And now it was affecting her.
She straightened slowly and treated herself to an unhurried inspection of some serious muscles. “You’re looking flushed,” she managed. “Too much sun, I expect. How about a beer?”
“Love one.” He swallowed and with a tilt of his chin indicated his pickup. “But this thing won’t drive itself.”
“So stay.”
“You know that’s not going to happen.”
Yeah. She did. She shrugged. “Why’re you driving Joe’s truck?”
“My brakes are shot.”
“On your pickup?” A curt nod. “You couldn’t use your box truck?”
“Didn’t have that many deliveries to make. Anyway, the box truck uses too much gas for everyday use.”
She frowned. “Business okay?”
“No.”
Her stomach dropped, but his next words made it clear his “No” had nothing to do with her question.
He removed his ball cap again. The brown hair plastered to his skull looked black. “We’re not going to just step over this and keep on walking. Not again. We’ve been circling each other for a year. But we both know it’s not going to happen. We want different things. And neither one of us will get it unless we back away from each other.”
“How do you know I’m not getting it?” she asked archly.
Her face heated under his steady gaze. “Point is,” he continued, “while we’re doing whatever this is we’re doing, I haven’t felt free to see anyone else.”
“But you want to.”
He moved to the side and held out a gloved hand, offering to help her jump down. When her boots hit the ground, she almost dropped to her knees, which were suddenly and inconveniently loose. He stared down at her.
“I’m looking at the woman I want to date. You’ve made it clear that won’t happen.”
“You want more than I can give.”
“How about what I can give? You don’t think you deserve love, but you do.”
Oh, God.
When she didn’t—couldn’t—respond, he tapped a knuckle under her chin. “This thing about not wanting kids...it doesn’t make sense. They arrive by the bus full and you enjoy the tours as much as they do. If you’d just give it a chance—”
She jerked away from him, the warmth sparked by his “you deserve love” comment vanishing faster than an apple under her stallion’s nose. “You don’t know that.” Her hang-up when it came to kids might not be rational, but she had her reasons—reasons she didn’t plan on sharing with anyone, let alone Seth.
“You don’t know me,” she continued.
“You won’t let me.”
“But there are so many incredible things I will let you do.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Come on. This is about more than sex. You like me. You look forward to my visits. We have fun together. My kids don’t bite.” He flashed a grin that threatened her knees all over again. Damn that dimple. “All right, they do, but not often, and never when there’s a chance they’ll talk someone into playing Uno. Look, you have a lot in common. All three of you love horses, hate Brussels sprouts and live to cause me grief. Why not give this a shot?”
“Because I’m looking for sex, not a happy-ever-after.”
“Got it.” He put his hat back on and reached again for the hay bale, his motions smooth but his stubble-roughened jaw as hard as the steel toes of his work boots. “Olivia over at the DMV has been asking me out for a while now. Guess I’ll take her up on it. Maybe it would be better for both of us if I split your deliveries with Bradley.”
“Did you warn him about me? Tell him not to turn his back on the cougar at the dairy farm?” She was being unfair. She wasn’t winning any points, either—there was no mistaking the disgust in Seth’s expression.
Time to pretend the past fifteen seconds of conversation had never taken place, because otherwise she’d dissolve into tears right in front of him. Besides, she knew how busy the feed store kept Seth and his part-timer... Chances were their delivery schedule would stay the same.
She also did her best to ignore the sudden scorch of indignation she had no right to feel. Olivia Duncan was a petite, bubbly brunette with big breasts and a notorious affection for children, if not for their teeth. She kept a bottomless bowl of candy at her window for the kids whose parents had dragged them along on their errands. No way could Ivy compete with that, even if she wanted to.
“Wise choice,” she finally managed.
“Bradley? Or Olivia?”
“Olivia. I didn’t think Bradley was your type.”
Seth gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “You know her?”
“Not personally. But I’m sure, after you wine and dine her once or twice, the next time you go in to renew your license she’ll wave you right up to the front of the line.”
He never cracked a smile. “It’ll be nice to have a woman put me first for a change.”
* * *
THE MOMENT HE placed his left boot on the long-faded pavement, Seth heard the arguing. Two all-too-familiar voices, raised in earsplitting fury. He shook his head and shoved the pickup door shut, heading toward the noise. If he was honest, playing referee was exactly the distraction he needed.
Damn Ivy Millbrook and her lovely blond hide.
A shriek echoed inside the building. He winced at the faded brick structure he’d owned just over a year, an investment that made him alternately proud and scared shitless. Tweedy’s Feed and Seed. The worn wooden sign was placed strategically over the strip of etched cement that read Castle Creek Fire Company No. 6.
He’d fallen hard for this two-story slice of history, with its boxy shape, bell tower and masonry arches that curved like eyebrows over tall white-framed windows. The pair of fire engine–sized bays behind white mullioned doors provided more than enough space