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.
She grabbed her purse and told Alma, “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll tell Josh and send him back to class. He’s very anxious over this matter. That’s my main concern.” She paused. “I’ll explain later, when you get here.”
What matter? she wondered as she unlocked her car and slid in. There was no disputing Tara was a wreck, watching television half the night and sleeping most of the day. She really needed to get herself sorted out, but Bex didn’t know how to advise her. She’d never been married, much less through a divorce, so how could she relate?
The school was a low-slung, modern brick building, only a few years old. Their beloved former school had finally reached the stage that the town had determined that a new building would make more sense than doing endless repairs, and while she’d mourned the loss, there was no doubt this facility was to-heck-and-gone better. The playground equipment alone made her inner child envious.
She parked the SUV in the parent lot and walked through the double glass doors. The office was right inside, and every visitor had to check in and sign a log, so she dutifully did that, and was directed to Alma’s desk right down the hall.
Alma Wainwright was an institution in Mustang Creek. She’d been there when Bex was in elementary school, and she didn’t look a whole lot different now. She still wore her hair in exactly the same bob, with a pair of spectacles constantly perched on the end of her nose. She glanced up and pointed to a chair. Bex sat. Old habits were hard to forget.
Alma
