The Marriage Season. Linda Miller Lael
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made up for a lot.
Little Joshua was fortunate enough to have his aunt, who seemed to be handling the situation in a very efficient manner.
He was impressed, but the last thing he needed was another reason to like Becca Stuart.
The boys were whooping it up. They knew each other from school, Adam and Josh being in the same class, and he was glad to see them running around like a pack of small wild animals. The dogs loved it. Tripp said, “There’s something about hearing kids laugh... I can’t wait.”
“Let’s talk diapers.” Tate said it drily.
Tripp burst out laughing. “Okay, got me there. I can wait for that part, but I’ll man up.”
“What if you have a girl?”
“Could happen.” Tripp pointed at the boys running around. “But I understand those guys. I was one of those guys. Girls are a different story.”
It might be irrational on Tate’s part, but he’d always wanted a daughter. He leaned on the railing of the corral. “I’d like a girl. Someday. A different experience, I’m sure. Walking her down that aisle and giving her away, as they call it, to some other guy would sure be a leap of faith. Even the idea of that first date is daunting. So, if you don’t mind, what’s up with Bex’s sister?”
“My personal opinion is that her husband isn’t a bad guy—or a good guy. He’s not perfect, but I know him. We went to school together. Greg was the direction Tara chose, for whatever reason. Bex is just too good at picking up the pieces, so this isn’t the first time she’s been stuck with the Tara-and-Greg mess, not to mention poor little Josh. Like I said, you’re getting my personal opinion here. Without Bex to turn to, Tara would simply put up with Greg. But Bex has loyalty nailed down and Tara knows it. He fools around, Tara leaves him, he apologizes and she goes back, and Bex is the only one, as far as I can tell, who even worries about what it’s doing to their kid.”
There was a plume of dust in the driveway. Tate asked, “You expecting company or could that be him now?”
Tripp exhaled loudly. “Orange Corvette... That’s him. Might be best if the kids aren’t around for a bit. I know he has rights as a dad, but if they’ve really split, I’m going to let Josh stay here until I see a court order—unless his mother decides differently.” As he moved off, he added, “You might have to lasso Bex if her sister changes her mind. At any rate, the kids don’t have to hear this conversation.”
Tate had taken his wedding vows seriously, so he was hardly going to balk at stepping in, either, and he could easily see Bex getting in her brother-in-law’s face. He said laconically, “I’ll bring the kids inside and be right back in case there’s trouble.”
He whistled for the dogs and called out to his sons and Josh. “Time out. Come on in the house. Everybody.”
Ben looked really put out. “Dad!”
“For a few minutes.”
“But Dad, I—”
“Now. Don’t argue.”
At least his son understood when an order was an order. Nothing ambiguous about it. Ben sighed as he motioned to the dogs. “Come on, boys.”
They followed, lumbering along at his heels, with the two younger boys close behind. It was telling that even when Josh glanced over his shoulder and saw his dad’s car, he still went in.
To Tate, that said a lot. It touched his heart, but not in a good way. Once the kids and dogs had filed inside, he hurried over to Hadleigh. “Greg is here, so keep them inside, okay?”
She nodded. “No problem.”
He went back out, joining Tripp in the drive. “Just how ‘not bad’ is this guy?”
They’d both dealt with difficult situations, back when they were pilots. As the authority figure on the plane, they usually had to deal with passengers who got out of hand. “On a scale of one to ten?” Tate added. He wasn’t worried, just curious.
“He’s maybe a six,” Tripp informed him, hands in pockets as they walked up to the car. “Plenty of bluster, but there’s no real juice behind it. We know each other—so that should help.”
“Galloway.” The man in question slammed his door and walked toward them. A big guy, Tate noted, but soft, with a shock of dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. He must’ve been at work because he still wore his shirt with his name embroidered on the pocket. “My wife here?”
“Yep.”
“I figured my sister-in-law would drag her out here or to Hogan’s place. Can I talk to her?”
“Nope.”
Anger flared on his face. “You heard the wife part, right?”
“Doesn’t matter. This is my land. So these are my rules.” Tripp didn’t budge. “Tara’s not receiving company at the moment. Seems to me she needs a little peace and quiet.”
“Then I want my son.”
Tate was truly not one to butt into anyone’s business, but he’d seen the look on the poor kid’s face. “He’s inside playing with two other children. Why would you make this harder on him? Get in your car and go, and when you and your wife choose to have a sensible conversation—with lawyers involved or not—he doesn’t need to be part of that, either. Like I say, it’s time for you to leave. That isn’t negotiable.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“A father. The boy’s not a pawn, so don’t even try getting to him. ’Cause that’s not going to happen.”
At least Greg had enough sense to realize that neither he nor Tripp was planning to back down, so, muttering under his breath, he stomped to his car and drove off in a sputter of gravel.
When Tate turned around, he saw Bex standing there.
She gave Tripp a quick hug. “Thanks. Both of you were great.”
When she came over to him, the kiss was more on the corner of his mouth than his cheek, Tate noticed—and appreciated. Not quite the real deal but...
A very nice start.
BEX TOOK THE CALL absently, at the desk in her office, assuming it was her accountant calling to schedule their monthly meeting. “This is Bex Stuart.”
“Bex, this is Alma. Joshua gave me your cell number. I don’t like to bother you, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Alma was the school secretary. A shudder of dismay went through her. “Is he sick? I’ll be right there.”
“No, he isn’t. Don’t worry about that. But I would appreciate it if you’d come in. We have a problem. Tara’s not answering my calls—they’re going directly to voice mail—and Josh’s father, quite frankly, told me in no uncertain language that he wants nothing to do with it. He was downright rude.”
Why did that not surprise her? After nearly a week of constant harassment in his quest to talk to Tara, who was still at Bex’s place, Greg had finally barged in to the club. He’d brushed past the receptionist and marched into Bex’s office, where he’d planted both hands on her desk, looking her in the eye. “If this is how you want it, they’re your problem now.”
She wasn’t about to yield to his bullying. “Considering the way you’ve treated my sister, that’s exactly how I want it.” Tara wasn’t without some responsibility in this whole mess, but Bex had no intention of discussing that with Greg.
“You got it, Bex.” He’d swung around and left, leaving a hint of motor-oil aroma in the air.