Morning Light (36 page)

“Morning!” Zachary called from a stall. His dark eyes danced with mischief. “Hope you slept well.”

Until that instant it hadn't occurred to Loni how her presence at the ranch at so early an hour might look. Clearly the implications had not been lost on Zachary. She felt a blush pool in her cheeks and spread up to her hairline.

Busy in another stall caring for Ezekiel, Clint hollered, “Zach, stuff a sock in it. Nothing went on. It was all totally on the up-and-up.”

Zachary shrugged, winked at Loni, and said, “You're the first, so far as I know. One thing Clint's never done is have women stay overnight.”

Clint threw down the grooming brush, burst from Ezekiel's stall, and advanced on his brother. Judging by the glower on his dark face, he was ready to fight. Loni's heart leaped into her throat. She looked wildly around for Frank, saw him in a stall, and gaped in befuddlement when he calmly continued what he was doing, apparently unperturbed by the possibility of a physical confrontation between his grown sons.

Clint stepped to the opening of Jemima's stall, where Zachary was working. “I asked you not to embarrass her, damn it! You're such a little shit, Zachary. Sometimes I wanna knock you up alongside the head.”

“I didn't say anything bad. Only that she's the first gal to stay overnight.”

Clint jabbed a sturdy finger at his brother's nose. “I know it'll be a challenge, but from this point forward you are not to address her,
period
, unless you can manage to show her proper respect.”

A ropey-dope look came over Zach's face. “Well, excuse me for breathin'.”

“Apologize,” Clint demanded.

Zachary leaned sideways to look around Clint's shoulder, met Loni's appalled gaze, and said, “I'm sorry, Loni. I was just giving you a hard time. Unfortunately some individuals in this crazy family have
no
sense of humor.”

“
That's
your idea of an apology?” Clint cried.

“You want it written in blood or what?”

Clint threw up his hands. He turned to Loni. “Pretend he never said anything. If he had a brain he'd play kickball with it.”

Frank began whistling. When Loni passed the stall with Clint at her side, the Harrigan family patriarch winked at her, clearly more amused than alarmed by his sons' exchange.

Hooter, whom Loni had met the first time she visited the stable, worked on Uriah in the stall next to Ezekiel's. Loni stepped in to greet her equine friend. As she stroked the gentle gelding's nose, Hooter tweaked his handlebar mustache, watching her curiously. Finally he said, “You reckon you can find my truck keys?”

“I'd be happy to help,” Loni replied. “Do you need them right now?”

“Hooter,” Clint interrupted from the adjacent enclosure, “she doesn't do keys. She can only help find them the regular way.”

“Lookin' for 'em, you mean?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, what use is that?” Hooter snorted. “I already looked everywhere.”

Loni was grinning when she went to Ezekiel's stall. Clint glanced up from checking the gelding's hoof. “I love those alfalfa green britches. You were wearing them the first time I saw you.”

“Whoa!” Zachary hollered. “Keep it clean. Your baby brother can hear you.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “You
sure
about marrying me and having to put up with that all the time?”

“I'm positive,” Loni answered.

“Hallelujah! You hear that, Dad? Clint's gonna tie the knot.”

From the other side of the arena, Parker yelled, “Congratulations, bro.” Then, “My condolences, Loni. You sure you know what you're getting into?”

Clint grimaced. “God save me. One of these days they'll push me too far and I'll cheerfully murder one of them.”

Loni was quickly coming to realize that arguing was a form of entertainment in the Harrigan family. Though they seemed to grow angry, it was actually all in good fun. If push ever came to shove, she imagined that the four brothers would lay down their lives for one another.

“Don't worry about it,” Loni whispered to Clint. “I enjoy all the foolishness.”

He dipped his head under Ezekiel's neck to give her a quick kiss. “You are so damned beautiful, both inside and out.”

“The slacks are patina.”

He snorted with laughter. “Repeat after me. ‘Thank you for the compliment, Clint.'”

She grinned and leaned forward under Ezekiel's neck to kiss him back.

That afternoon everyone went to the hospital to see Trevor. In an attempt to avoid overwhelming the child, only one person went in at once, and they limited each visit to ten minutes, spacing them an hour apart. Only Clint stayed in the child's room the entire time.

When Loni's turn came she found father and son having a grand time playing tic-tac-toe. Clint appeared to be losing continually, possibly by design. She couldn't help but laugh at Trevor's unrestrained victory yells each time he won.

“I totally rock!”

Clint chuckled. “You do. How did you get so good?”

“Practice.” Trevor stifled a grin. “How'd you get so
bad
?”

“I'm not bad. I've been letting you win.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Observing the pair, Loni could easily imagine Trevor soon taking his place among the rough-and-tumble Harrigan males. Someday he'd be exchanging insults and ribbing his uncles as if he'd been born into the fold.

When her ten minutes were up, Loni said, “I think I'd better go now.”

Clint glanced up from the game in progress. “Not home.”

Loni had been thinking exactly that. She had her dog staying at her sister's, Trevor was no longer in danger, and though she and Clint were now bound together by avowals of love and plans to marry, they each had their separate enterprises, and her shop still wasn't open yet. Only, when she looked into his eyes, she saw a vulnerability and need completely at odds with the strong man she'd come to know. Discovering that Trevor was his son and then almost losing him had rocked Clint's world, and he obviously still didn't feel steady on his feet.

Loni had learned a lot about this man during their time in the wilderness and knew that if she so much as hinted at his need for her, his pride would take a hit. So instead she said, “I can't possibly go home. Not yet. I know it's silly, but after the last few days I don't feel good about being away from you.”

The taut, anxious look on his face dissipated. He chucked Trevor under the chin, excused himself, and followed Loni out into the hall to take her into his arms with a ferocity that startled her. “I can't be away from you yet either. My emotions feel like they've been stirred with a whisk, and having you with me is all that keeps me from losing it.”

Clint Harrigan was one of the strongest, most level-headed men she'd ever met, but she understood what he meant. In a very short time she'd become his anchor, and he'd become hers. “Still mad at Sandra?”

“Pissed is a better word.” He glanced back toward Trevor, visible behind the glassed-in walls. “I look at him and I see myself, and my brothers, and my dad. When I think of the eight years she robbed us of, I feel crazy inside.” His gaze came back to her face. “Until I look at you.” His Adam's apple bobbed. “Then I understand. I'd lie to keep you in my life. I love you so much I think I might even be capable of violence to keep you there. Does that make any sense? Or do you think I'm totally nuts?”

Loni remembered how she had rationalized Sandra's behavior. “Love doesn't come along every day, Clint. When we find it I think we all go just a little crazy. Sandra
needed
to be with Robert. She saw no future she wanted without him, so she made a selfish choice. But can I say for sure I wouldn't also make a selfish choice if I might lose you?” She shook her head. “No. I think I'd probably be very selfish, because the thought of a future without you makes me feel desolate.”

He nodded. “Exactly, and that's why seeing you keeps me sane. I can look at you and not feel quite so furious. If Sandra loved Robert the way I love you…” He gazed off down the hallway. Then he smiled wryly. “Can't condemn someone else for doing what I might have done myself.” His eyes held hers for a long moment. “I couldn't let you go. No way. I forget that when you're not with me, and my feelings of anger take over. I don't want to take it out on her parents—or let Trevor sense it. It's important right now for him to know that I'm on his side.”

Loni looped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. Her shop could wait for a few more days. She had plenty of money in the bank from the sale of her Lynwood home to sustain her—and she would soon be marrying a millionaire. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she nuzzled said millionaire's neck. Clint Harrigan definitely didn't fit the stereotype, and, oh, how glad she was that he didn't. She'd come to like Wranglers jeans and riding boots, and when they got married she'd be disappointed if he wasn't wearing a dress Stetson and a Western-cut tuxedo.

“I like feeling needed,” she said softly.

He bent his dark head and kissed her. Not as deeply as they both might have liked, but Trevor might be watching. She felt his yearning when they drew apart and saw it etched on his dark features.

“When you go downstairs, don't let Zach give you a hard time. Tell him to stuff a sock in it.”

She nodded.

“And don't let Dad give you the third degree. He's bad about that.”

She laughed. “Samantha will keep him on the straight and narrow. No worries.” As she spoke, Loni realized that was one of Clint's favorite sayings.
No worries.
It felt nice to be picking up his habits. She couldn't think of anyone she'd rather emulate. “How much longer do you plan to stay?”

“Until they kick my ass out.”

She understood and nodded. “I'll be waiting with your family downstairs somewhere.”

“Your family now.”

She gave him a teasing look. “If I take on your family, you have to take on mine,” she warned him, “and mine is decidedly weirder.”

He kissed her again, this time just a quick touch of their lips. “It's a very nice kind of weird.”

Loni spent the next two hours in the cafeteria with Clint's family, an experience that convinced her she would never feel bored as a member of the Harrigan clan. Frank drank copious amounts of coffee, which he complained about with every sip. “I could make stronger brew if I shoved a coffee bean up a duck's butt and ran downstream for a cup of water.” Zach was a perfect gentleman to Loni, but she was the only person he didn't target. He tugged on Samantha's hair, clearly determined to get a rise out of her. When she didn't take the bait, he tried to engage his brothers in arguments. The young woman busing tables got so flustered when he flirted with her that she dropped a stack of trays, prompting Zach to get up and help her clear away the mess. Before the job was done, he'd asked her for a date and had her phone number, inspiring Parker and Quincy to rib him unmercifully about robbing the cradle.

Dee Dee, whom Loni hadn't yet met, had stayed home with a headache, and Frank called her every half hour to check on her. Loni found his concern touching but secretly wondered if Dee Dee was rolling her eyes when the phone rang. When Loni had a headache she liked to lie down in a dark room, and the last thing she wanted was to answer calls.

“Damn, Dad, you need to leave the poor woman alone,” Parker suggested. “You afraid she'll forget you're married if you don't ring her every five minutes?”

“Just goes to show how little you know about women,” Frank popped back. “They
like
being fussed over. No wonder you're still not married.”

Parker snorted. “If marriage means having a phone attached to my ear, I'll pass.”

“Yeah, right,” Zach sniped. “You'd tie the knot in a minute if you could find anyone decent who'd have you.”

And so it went. The Harrigans fascinated Loni. They argued more often than not, yet none of them ever seemed to get angry, and under it all there was no mistaking their love for one another.

Everyone had grown hungry during the wait, so when Clint finally joined them the entire clan got in the buffet line. Quincy, the health nut, slapped his father's hand when Frank reached for fried chicken.

“Damn it, son. A man's gotta eat real food sometimes. Dee Dee never lets me have fried chicken anymore.”

“Good for her,” Quincy retorted. “The stuff will kill you. It's not as if you peel away the skin. Hell, no, you eat every greasy morsel, clear down to the bones.”

Frank grabbed for the spoon to a creamy potato dish, and Quincy redirected his reach. “Red potatoes are better for you.”

On the other side of the buffet shelf, Samantha forked some salad onto her father's plate. “There, Daddy. Fill up on that.”