Montana Cowboy (Big Sky Mavericks Book 2) (13 page)

Thirty minutes later, Austen sidled up to her at the grill, where the last of the marinated zucchini wedges were nearly done cooking. "You got Em to eat. Should I call you Svengali?"

"I wouldn't if I were you. He was an anti-Semitic character who led women to their doom."

He blinked with the first deer-in-headlights look she'd seen on his face. "Oh."

She threw back her head and laughed. The kids gave her a surprised look and cracked up. Adults were funny—especially when they acted normal. "Sorry. You meant that as a good thing, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"I gave your niece an outsider's perspective. Sometimes that helps."

He looked thoughtful. "That's a good point. Maybe an outsider's point of view could help me decide what to do."

"You mean stay in Marietta or go back to Helena?"

He nodded. "I still have a condo. I probably could start over, even though most of my connections were quick to distance themselves from the stink of scandal. I have—or had a friend, I'm not sure which, at the moment, who might still be trying to clear my name by finding the person who actually authorized the expenses. But, honestly, a part of me knows this stigma is going to follow me forever. Ten years from now, I'll still be the guy walking around with the imprint of tire tread on my back from the bus that ran over me."

Serena felt an unexpected tug of sympathy. Normally, she didn't waste time lamenting what could have been. Loss was a part of life.
Sometimes you're the bug, sometimes the windshield,
she nearly murmured her father's favorite maxim. But she could tell by the deep creases in Austen's forehead that this decision was weighing on his mind.

"I'm not a keen observer of politics, but I have noticed that some people manage to come back after seemingly disastrous blows to their public image—Bill Clinton, for one. I guess you have to decide how much you want that life."

He might have said more, but the back gate swung open and the two women who had been at her house earlier that morning walked in together. Both looked hot and tired. Bailey waved toward the barbecue then headed for the house. Mia trudged their way.

She walked straight to Austen. "Get it over with. Throw your hissy. I'm a busybody who had no right to interfere with your life. Yada. Yada." She glanced at Serena. "Hi, again. Nice suit."

"Thanks." The navy and tan one-piece with red piping around the deeply scooped neckline and plunging back was her favorite. "It's old, but I normally swim in Lake Shasta. No chlorine to fade it."

She'd known Austen approved because he hardly took his gaze off her, unless he was interacting with his nieces and nephews.

Austen took his sister by the shoulders. "You can fix my life after yours is back on track, Meeps. Not before."

She smiled sadly. "Good point. Sorry if I was out of line, Serena."

Serena grabbed a paper plate and served up two zucchini wedges, adding a dollop of her special sour cream dill sauce, and a serving of watermelon salad on the side. "No worries. Here. Your kids loved these."

Mia started to shake her head, but after a stern frown from Austen, she dropped her giant purse in a deck chair and took the plate. "Even Em?"

"Even Em. And that salad is crazy good."

Mia picked out a hunk of fruit, pausing to examine it. "Is this feta cheese? Weird."

She popped it in her mouth and chewed. Her eyes went wide and she grinned. "Yummy."

She tried the zucchini next.

"Where'd Bailey go?" Austen asked.

Mia chewed and swallowed before answering. "She had to throw up." She paused then added, her tone resigned, "Apparently her morning sickness comes in the late afternoon and evening."

Austen's jaw dropped. "No, f—"

Mia shoved her last bite of zucchini in his mouth. "No cussing, remember? Mom said so.

He choked, chewed, and swallowed. "When? How? She's only been back a few months. She's not thinking about—"

"They're both over the moon excited and happy, Austen. This wasn't planned, obviously, but they're getting married in October, and it is what it is. If you have any thoughts on the matter, I sincerely advise you to keep them to yourself.

"This time," she added.

Austen hated the resignation and defeat he heard in his sister's voice. The Mia he knew was a scrappy fighter named Nitro who never gave up. This Mia seemed ready to throw in the towel at every turn. She'd let their folks talk her into moving home, despite the fact she loved the life she and Ed had created in Cheyenne. Past tense.

The timing seemed crazy—impossible, even—that both their lives imploded at the exact same time. Maybe the coincidence was a twin thing? They'd always shared a special connection.

"You want me to be happy for Paul and Bailey, don't you?"

Mia held out her plate for another helping. This time, Serena included a hamburger slider. No bun. The kids had devoured the little burgers in three bites.

"I don't care how badly you want to stand pat on your personal convictions, Austen, you
will
put on a happy face for Paul." An order given in a voice that could have come from Mom's mouth. Austen was too shocked to speak. "He's the only one of us who has something good happening in his life right now, and we're going to support that. Okay?"

What's wrong with Meg's life?
He pushed the question out of his head. Dumb question. Meg rocked every boat she ever got in. If not for tenure, she'd have been kicked to the curb by the university for her high profile, some-said militant, stand on the rights of wolves.

"Have they told the kids?"

Since Mia was busy chewing, Serena spoke up. "I'd guess no. Kids this age don't keep secrets worth squat. We'd have heard about it by now."

Mia high-fived Serena.

To Austen, she said, "I like her."

So do I, but...
lusting after perky breasts and shapely hips didn't constitute a relationship. He couldn't make any kind of commitment until he knew what he was going to do with his life. If he gave in to the pressure to return to Helena, the distance would surely kill their nascent connection because Serena was here for the long haul. She'd made that abundantly clear.

He changed the subject. "By the way, for the record, I'm not running for office in Marietta. If you think being the DA is such a great job, you go for it."

Mia laughed so loud she nearly choked on a bit of hamburger. "Me?"

"Why not?"

"You know why not. I have—"

He shushed her with a swift waggle of his finger. "Don't try to play the cancer card. You're in remission and on the mend. You have the prosecutorial chops I sure as hell don't have. You'd be great."

She crumpled her plate and shoved it into the nearby garbage can. "All I need is for one of my bald selfies to show up and I could kiss away half the voters. Nobody likes to think the person they're voting for is sick and might die."

Serena put a hand on her arm. "We're all going to die. I agree with Austen. You'd be great—not because I know anything about your credentials, but because I can tell you're a fighter. You're Mia "Nitro" Zabrinski, right?"

Mia blinked in surprise. The look she gave Austen crossed into
Twinland
. He could almost hear her silent, "You've never told any of your girlfriends about the Big Sky Mavericks."

To Serena, she said, "Austen doesn't usually talk about his childhood. It's like he's ashamed of being a kid. He got a big head in high school—lettered in every stinkin' sport and made All-Montana three years in a row in football... anyway, he made the teacher in charge of the year book—I can't remember her name right now—change his nickname because he didn't want the people at Harvard admissions to think he was a hawk. Can you believe that?"

Serena laughed. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I can." She moved the last of the burgers to a cool spot on the grill and turned off the flame. After she closed the lid, she said, "If you do decide to run, you've got my vote—as soon as I get registered in this county. I always go for the scrappy underdog."

Austen's heart widened another few inches. He'd been in politics so long he'd forgotten genuine, positive people really existed. "Serena's right, Meeps. You are a fighter. You have a dynamite record in Cheyenne. If you decide to go for it, I might consider sticking around to run your campaign."

The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about what he was promising, but the look of surprise and the spark of interest in Mia's eyes—a spark that had been missing for nearly a year—made him glad he'd said it.

"You would? Really?"

He let the idea percolate a moment. A local job would give him a reason to stay, which would get his family off his back. And one of his favorite parts of politics had been the campaign—strategizing, building support, and watching his efforts play out in real time when his candidate won. "I would. I will. When do you have to file?"

She grabbed her purse off the chair. "I don't know. But I'll find out."

Austen watched Serena's gaze follow his twin up the steps of the deck and disappear into the house. When she turned to face him, she was smiling. "That was nice of you."

"Totally self-serving. Everybody has been on my case for months about going back to work. They seem to think playing cowboy is a waste of my very expensive education. Don't go to Harvard unless you're serious about working your ass off in a job that can chew you up and spit you out in a moment's notice," he added bitterly.

She patted his arm sympathetically. "Poor Ivy League grad. I feel for you."

He pulled her closer, the heat from the grill adding to the fire building in his belly. "Can I tell you what I want to feel? And where?"

She looped her arms around his shoulders. "Why don't you show me?"

"Get a room, you two. Jeesch."

Paul Zabrinski entered the patio area from the garage door. He paused to grab a beer on his way past the outside cooler then walked straight to Austen and Serena, who had stepped back, blushing like crazy.

Why Austen was turned on by that straight-arrow blush made no sense, but it did. He was.

"Thanks for watching the kids today. Mom and Dad needed a break," Paul said.

For a guy who just finished up eight to ten hours on the job, the man looked surprisingly buoyant and chipper. He smiled at Serena. "Good to see you, Serena. How are you settling in? Everything okay at the house?"

"Yes. Just fine, thanks. But I was wondering if we could talk sometime soon?"

"Sure. What about?"

Serena hesitated but Austen sensed the moment she decided to go for it. "I'd like to talk about buying your ranch. I know the place isn't on the market, but have you ever thought about selling? I'd be interested. It fits my needs, and I like the location," she added.

The look she gave Austen made him want to grab her hand and head back to the ranch right this minute.

Paul appeared slightly taken aback. "Sell the Jenkins' place? Hmm. I don't know. Let me talk it over with Bailey. I'm pretty sure she has no desire to live there again, but...that's the kind of decision we need to make together."

He seemed to brace for the worst when he looked at Austen and said, "In case Mom didn't tell you, Bailey and I set the date. The first Saturday in October."

"Better sooner rather than later, by the sound of it."

He'd intended the words to come out as a joke, but Paul's expression said he didn't appreciate the humor. "Yes. We're pregnant. We're thrilled. If you have a problem with that, we're going to clear it up right now. Bailey doesn't deserve any more of your crap."

Austen held up both hands. "All I ever wanted was the best for you, Paul. Serena pointed out that I'm not necessarily the best judge of what's right for somebody else—especially since my life is off the rails."

The black and white lines Austen had used to guide his actions were looking grayer and less distinct every time he had to cross one. But judging by the smile on Serena's face, that was a good thing. The kind of thing that might pay off handsomely tonight. "I'll apologize to Bailey when she's done throwing up," he added.

The fight went out of his brother. Paul had always been the peacemaker of the family. They shook hands and gave each other a one-arm, manly hug.

With a jaunty whistle, Paul dashed up the steps, but he stopped and called out, "Oh, by the way, Austen, I met with Sheri Fast today to set up the books for our new Outdoor Rec classes and she told me there's been a break in your case. You should give her a call."

My case. My so-cold-it's-arctic case?

"Who's Sheri Fast?" Serena asked.

Austen watched his brother disappear into the house.
Well played, little brother.

"Remember the day we met...I mentioned my former friend-with-benefits who wanted more..."

"Than you were able to give," Serena supplied. "I remember that well. I take it she's also an accountant who works for you and your family."

"For Paul, yes. When Bailey came home and found out her parents' business was nearly bankrupt, Paul asked me to get in touch with Sheri and see if she could help them out."

"Did she?"

He ran his palm along the curve of her waist. "Child's play. The company’s bookkeeper left a paper trail a mile wide. They arrested the woman in Reno after she shot and killed her husband."

"Oh, my, gosh, that's awful." She connected the dots more quickly than most. "The woman who used to live in my house? The man who's pants you borrowed?"

He nodded.

She moved a bit closer.

His fingers brushed the underside of her breast. "Very sad. Jack was Bailey's dad's best friend."

"Is their company out of business?"

He took the spatula from her hand and turned her so their fronts were nearly touching. The warm grill and cooler evening air temperature added an exotic flavor mixed with delicious smells. He was hungry—starved—for her.

"You'd have to ask Paul. Or Sheri. I'm not privy to all the details, but I think Paul's new Outdoor Recreation venue is a bone he intends to throw to his future father-in-law."

When he pulled her against him, she leaned back. "Not so fast...no pun intended. You said you and this Sheri person dated. Fairly recently, right? And she's working on your case. Does that mean you two are still involved, professionally?"