Choosing His Family Read online

  It was like standing on the side of the highway, holding up a Hot Mess sign for all the world to see.

  “I’m sorry.” Finn let the silence sit, giving his condolence credit. Not filling in with drivel like so many did.

  “Thank you.”

  “You can probably give Doug’s body shop a call this morning to check on your vehicle, but with the damage... Charlie thought it may take a week for them to get it back to functioning.” Charlie had told Ivy that she was a mechanic. Unfortunately, she didn’t run the auto body repair shop. That would have definitely come in handy. Finn took a sip of black coffee. “It needs new tires if you plan to drive it through any more harsh weather.”

  Ivy winced. She’d known the tires were on their last leg. Unfortunately, the money she’d grown accustomed to in her marriage was long gone.

  “Doug will need your insurance information, too.” Finn’s eyebrows joined together, as if questioning if she even had insurance.

  She did. She wasn’t delinquent on everything. “Okay, I’ll call him this morning.”

  A week wasn’t bad, but what would they do in the meantime? Ivy would have to find a place for them to stay, which took more from her meager savings. Unless...unless she could work a deal with Finn that would benefit both of them. Last night when Charlie had driven her and the girls from the accident to the ranch, she’d mentioned that Finn’s property had a vacation rental on it. Ivy had wondered if that was where they would stay, but then they’d ended up at the house, in the den.

  “This might sound a little crazy, but I have an idea.”

  Finn eased back from the table, his spine ramrod straight. Already distancing himself. Not the best sign.

  “I can help you with that.” She pointed to his notes. “I could host a dinner with one hand tied behind my back.”

  His eyes narrowed. In the dark of her vehicle last night Ivy hadn’t been able to tell the color well, but this morning, with the additional sunlight now streaming inside, she could tell they were the hue of underripe blueberries. He had blond hair—definitely not as pronounced as his sister’s short red locks—and strong, defined cheekbones that would make any woman weep with jealousy. His warm skin tone carried a pink tinge as if he was uncomfortable or embarrassed or wanted to be rid of her.

  And yet, she continued anyway. “Your sister mentioned you have a vacation rental on your property. What if I traded you a week of me and the girls staying there in exchange for taking over the planning and hosting for your cattlemen’s dinner?” Ivy had never made a suggestion of that magnitude before. Prior to marrying Lee, she’d been confident and carefree. She’d had lots of friends and even more dreams. She’d been invincible. But each year of their marriage, she’d lost a piece of herself. Now she hardly recognized the thirty-two-year-old woman who stared back at her in the mirror every morning. But even broaching the idea gave her a surge of adrenaline—crazy and reaching though it might be.

  “The unit is unfinished. The Burkes—the couple I bought the ranch from—were having money troubles, and they thought a secondary form of income would help, so they started renovating the old bunkhouse into a vacation rental. The beds are in and the bathroom is done, but the small kitchen is unfinished.”

  They could live without a kitchen. If she and the girls ended up at a motel, they wouldn’t have one anyway. “That’s okay. We don’t need much. I don’t want to pressure you into this. It would be a huge plus for me because we’d have an affordable, safe place to stay for the week, but don’t consider it unless it would be a help to you. I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for a trade.”

  Ivy’s world might have crumbled in the last year, but she was determined to find a way to redeem things for her girls. Determined to show them everything would be okay. And if that meant weathering a bump in the road that amounted to a week’s delay in Westbend, Colorado, so be it.

  And if it meant asking Finn Brightwood, a man she barely knew, for the chance to make that happen...she would ask all day long.

  “So—” she sent up a prayer that Finn would at least consider the idea “—what do you think?”

  * * *

  I think I can’t get involved.

  Finn pushed back from the table under the guise of grabbing more coffee. He refilled his mug, accidentally clanging the lip of the pot against his cup. Hopefully, he hadn’t just woken the girls and Charlie. The den connected through the hallway behind the kitchen, but he didn’t know whether the French doors were closed or not. His sister had likely checked on everyone throughout the night and now deserved the rest.

  You cannot make this deal with this woman, Brightwood. Don’t even consider it.

  Before purchasing the Burke ranch, Finn had worked on an oil rig in North Dakota. A woman he’d met in town had convinced him that she’d needed to escape an ex-boyfriend. That the man was abusive to her. Finn had spent a lot of time and effort helping her, figuring out how she could protect herself. They’d fallen for each other—or so he’d thought. But after a stint when he’d been working, he’d come back to town to find she’d married the guy. Finn wasn’t even sure if the stories she’d spun about him being abusive were true. The situation had left him unsure of everything.

  He’d vowed that there would be no more rescuing of damsels in distress—real or fake—and now, thanks to his sister, he was right back at square one. And Ivy’s story was...wow. Not only had her husband embezzled, he’d then taken his own life, leaving her with triplets. How could he have done that to her?

  The fact that Ivy was fighting so fiercely for her girls impressed Finn, but that still didn’t make any of this his problem.

  Only...it was hard to turn off the part of him that cared and rescued. That instinct was a problem. He was working on it. And taking this deal with Ivy...it would be backtracking.

  Finn couldn’t dally anymore without being obvious, so he returned to his seat. Ivy had moved to the window behind the dining room table, watching as the world woke up, the morning glow illuminating her pretty features. Her blond locks were pulled back into a short ponytail. She was small-framed, but timid wasn’t the right word to describe her. She had spunk. To ask him—a stranger—to make a trade was gutsy. Strong. He respected that. Maybe too much.

  The problem was...he wanted what she was offering.

  This dinner was a major stress for him. He would have fought hosting it harder, but the cattlemen’s group hadn’t even entertained another option. They were amused by him being a newbie, and they’d declared him as the host before he’d gotten a word in edgewise.

  It wasn’t rescuing if he was getting something in return, was it?

  “I’ll show you the rental, and if you think it’s up to snuff even though it’s not finished, you’re on.”

  Lord, I think I might be absolutely crazy for doing this. Prove me wrong, would You?

  Chapter Two

  “Red light.” Ivy called the command across Finn’s great room from her perch in the kitchen. While she often found it amusing that everyone on every HGTV show demanded an open floor plan, it was turning out to be a godsend. Ivy could manage and wrangle the girls, who were in the living room, while she puttered in the kitchen prepping for tomorrow night.

  Lola came to a complete stop with precision.

  Reese was next, and she righted her body so that it aligned with her sister’s...and so that she didn’t get caught for going too far. No one wanted that scenario, because a burst of tears would surely follow any censure.

  Sage went another three steps before heeding the change in direction. Both of her sisters called out the infraction with a vengeance.

  Ivy wasn’t raising demure girls. They loved each other fiercely and lived fiercely, so full of life that she almost never made it until nine thirty before falling into bed each night. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Every moment since they’d veered of
f the road she’d given thanks to God that the accident hadn’t been worse. That she and the girls were okay. Ivy was sore, sure, but it wasn’t anything some ibuprofen couldn’t tackle. And cranky muscles and a slight headache would fade in time. The day after the accident, she’d taken the girls to Dr. Sanderson in Westbend. He’d been incredibly thorough in making sure they were okay and had told her what signs to watch for after the fact. None of the girls had displayed any new symptoms. Yet another thing to be thankful for.

  Ivy pulled out the spices for the potatoes. “Sage, honey, you need to go back to the starting line.” Which was the stone fireplace that divided the front windows.

  Two fingers—upside down—slid into Sage’s mouth, and she returned to the start without complaint.

  Ivy called out, “Green light,” and the game continued.

  It was a strange thing indeed to make herself at home in a stranger’s kitchen—especially a man’s. But Ivy didn’t have a choice, and she was fine with the agreement she and Finn had come to. She was even enjoying planning for tomorrow night.

  Finn had told her casual was the name of the game. They were ranchers, after all. Ivy had taken that up just a notch. They were still having barbecued beef. The plates were still throwaway, but thankfully, Finn had purchased good-quality ones in Denver. He’d given her a budget and let her borrow his truck to get additional supplies. She’d found affordable cloth napkins, because the thought of paper made her cringe. She’d also managed to include some battery-operated tea lights and small glass jars in her purchases, along with the ingredients to doctor twice-baked potatoes and make her favorite barbecue sauce from scratch. The meal might be casual, but it would be good if she had anything to say about it.

  The bunkhouse, as Finn referred to it, was a pleasant surprise. Tiny and rustic, it had a small bedroom with just enough space for a bed and dresser and another small bedroom that could only hold bunk beds. The girls had been rotating through the bunks with one sleeping on the floor so that no fights over fairness ensued. Though half the time, by morning they crawled into each other’s beds anyway, so Ivy didn’t know what the fuss was about.

  The minuscule living room held two chairs and a coffee table, and the space for the kitchen cabinets and small appliances gaped like a missing front tooth in a child, with only the capped hookups dotting the wall. Finn should consider finishing that portion. Ivy imagined the bunkhouse could make some nice supplemental income.

  Even unfinished, the space had more than upheld Finn’s end of the bargain. Which was why Ivy was so determined to make good on hers.

  The man definitely didn’t have time to host a dinner. What would he have done without her help? She’d barely seen him in the four days since the accident. Their conversations had been short and businesslike, which Ivy was okay with. She wasn’t here to become best friends with Finn Brightwood. And she also wasn’t planning to stay in Westbend. Everything she was doing was for her girls—which meant that after this they’d continue on to her parents’ home. Even if that thought made her stomach ball into a fist of concern. Dad didn’t think she’d made the right choice in marrying Lee, and he’d been vocal about it. Made it tough to imagine living with her parents. Ivy was hard enough on herself. She knew she’d made bad decisions. She didn’t need assistance heaping on the guilt.

  The best thing Lee had given her was the girls, and even that hadn’t been easy. When they’d had trouble getting pregnant, Ivy had asked for IVF. Lee had agreed, and she half thought he’d been relieved by the idea of being less involved. He’d been good to the girls when he was around, but he’d never wanted them the way she had. Never craved a baby the way she had. Three babies had been a shock, but Ivy had rallied around the idea quickly. She’d known the girls were meant to be.

  “Green light!” She called out the final direction, and Lola and Reese slapped the island, giggling. “Time for a new round. Sage, you’re back in.”

  Their pounding footsteps were interrupted by the front door opening. Finn stepped inside and scanned the space—his house—full of them. Ivy swallowed a sigh begging to escape. She’d been hoping not to bother him.

  “Hello,” he greeted them with a stoic nod.

  “Hi, Mista Finn.” Lola tromped in his direction. “We had jelly sandwiches for lunch, and then Mommy made us nap. I saw a kitty by the barn but it ranned away from me.”

  “Lo, honey, let’s give Mr. Finn some space. We’re playing a game, remember?”

  Lola’s brow furrowed with distaste at the redirect.

  “It’s okay. She’s fine.”

  Lola took Finn’s permission and ran with it. “Do you want to play with us, Mista Finn?”

  Ivy’s lips twitched. Lola’s pronunciation of Mista Finn made him sound like a rapper or a DJ.

  “He doesn’t have time to play Red Light, Green Light, Lola. That was nice of you to offer, though.” Ivy met Finn’s gaze, an apology written in hers.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Who says I don’t have time for a game of Red Light, Green Light?”

  Ivy’s cheeks heated. “You really don’t have to... We’ll be out of here shortly.”

  Finn’s smile sparked, and she forgot what she’d been protesting. “You afraid I’ll win?”

  “Something like that.”

  Lola tugged on his shirtsleeve. “I’m not afraid you’ll win.”

  “Then let’s play.”

  The four of them lined up at the start while Ivy rolled napkins around disposable cutlery that Finn had purchased. Thankfully, it was of good quality.

  “Green light!” Ivy’s call was answered by stampeding contestants, but Finn veered sideways while the girls traveled straight—in the island’s direction.

  Ivy laughed. “Red light.”

  Finn stopped with his nose pressed against a front window. Lola launched into an explanation of how the game was supposed to go, and Sage removed her fingers from her mouth to assist her sister.

  “Mommy, can you pause us?” Lola asked.

  “Sure.”

  She marched over to Finn. “Mista Finn, you gotta go straight.” She motioned with her arm. “To the island where Mommy is. That’s how you play the game.”

  “Oh, really? Red Light, Green Light must have changed the rules since I played it last.”

  Lola took his hand and led Finn back to the fireplace. “Start us over, Mommy. Mista Finn didn’t know how to do it. Come on, Reesie. Come on, Sagie.”

  Lola forced her sisters back to the starting line despite their complaints, and the game resumed. Finn had a lot of trouble reaching the island.

  He tripped over the coffee table.

  Got the red and green commands confused.

  Froze in a funny statue whenever Ivy called red light.

  He was, in effect, the best toy the girls had ever played with for five minutes of their young lives.

  Ivy hadn’t expected to be smitten in any way, shape or form by Finn Brightwood, but today was like meeting the man behind the mask for the first time.

  It was a good thing she and the girls were leaving town once her vehicle was fixed, because Ivy wasn’t about to make another terrible decision regarding a man. She’d fallen for Lee fast, and she’d ignored every flashing warning sign along the way. Just because Finn could play a game with her girls and entertain them for a couple minutes didn’t make him safe on a long-term basis.

  She knew quite well that beginning impressions didn’t always portray the truth beneath.

  “Okay, last round.” Finn and the girls gathered by the fireplace again, and Ivy called red light first. No one took the bait, so she continued going back and forth.

  On a green light, Finn smacked into the couch—on purpose—and hopped and howled in pain, grabbing his shin, while the girls shrieked and took advantage of his injury. Ivy laughed so hard she couldn’t form the words for red light, so the t
riplets came all the way to the island, celebrating their victory with high fives.

  Ivy might need to have a chat with them about compassion. She knew Finn was messing around, but they didn’t.

  Finn came over to congratulate them on their victory. Reese viewed his approach with caution but didn’t burst into tears.

  “Are you okay? Did you hurted yourself?” Sage spoke around her fingers.

  Finn’s grin was of the knee-swirling variety. At least that was how it affected Ivy from her perch behind the island.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.”

  “I don’t think you were actually hurt.” Lola inspected him as if she was a scientist and Finn was her test subject.

  Finn winked at her, and Lola snickered. The little know-it-all. She was too confident for her own good.

  “Okay, girls, why don’t you figure out something else to play for a bit?” Ivy had brought a bag of items over to the house to keep them occupied. The three of them ran to it and began pulling out toys, arguing over what to play.

  Finn stayed across the island from her. “So how’s the prep going?”

  “Great!” Too much perk. Take it down a notch. “Good, I think. I’m planning to have barbecued beef and buns, twice-baked potatoes, salad and dessert. I also have a few appetizers to set out.”

  “Okay.” His brow furrowed.

  “What? Isn’t that what we talked about?”

  “Yeah, I just... Will you need help getting everything done on time? I could ask Charlie—”

  “You don’t need to recruit your sister. I’ve got this covered.”

  He didn’t look encouraged.

  She kept her voice low and calm even though his doubts hurt a little. “Listen, Finn, I realize that we don’t know each other well enough for you to trust me, but you can on this. I’m not going to drop the ball or not have the food or space ready. You’ve more than held up your end of the bargain letting us use the bunkhouse. I promise—I’ll take care of my end.”