Page 22 of Tate (The Montana Marshalls #2)

“A poet like your old man.” He laughed and gave her arm a squeeze.

“You are so much like me, Glo. Thoughtful. You see the needs of others and jump in. But you’re like your mother too…

a fireball in your own right. Creative, bold, smart.

And you need a man who will tend your fires.

Is Sloan that guy? Can he put his dreams aside to keep yours alive? ”

She considered him. “What are you saying?”

He ran his thumb down the side of his coffee cup. “I keep seeing a man sitting out by the pool every night. Sleeping on a deck chair.”

She shook her head, turned away. “I’m not…I don’t deserve him, Dad.”

“What?”

“No, really. I’ve been a total jerk to him this week. I’ve deliberately thrown myself at Sloan just to make him jealous.”

“Why?” Her father’s tone betrayed the shame she felt.

“Because…well, why should someone put their life on the line for me? I…I’m not…I’m just a regular person. I’m not the president, or even anyone important. I’m just…I’m just…well, you know.”

“No. I don’t know. My beautiful daughter?”

“Not the beautiful daughter, Dad. I’m the other one. The one who lived.”

He just blinked at her, and she looked away, her throat tight.

“Glo—”

“Joy should have lived, and we all know it. And it was my fault she didn’t.”

“Hardly!” He turned and took her face in his hands. “She was sick. Too sick. And that wasn’t on you.”

“It was my kidney, my body.”

“You were fraternal twins, not identical. And we knew it was a long shot. For the record, I was against the transplant from the first.”

Glo shook her head, moving away from his grip.

“I would have done it, even if you had said no. I loved her…” Her eyes filled.

“I just don’t understand God. Joy was perfect.

Smart. Beautiful. And yet I was born with the healthy body.

It’s a terrible joke on everyone, and Mother knows it best of all. ”

“Your mother has her faults—she is very focused on her goals. But she loves you, Glo.”

Glo drew in a breath. “I know. And I love her. I have no reason to complain, I know that.”

He took her hand. “You’ve had a few rough starts, Glo-light, so I think you have reason to complain. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be safe. Or happy. Or to have someone protect you. You have your own light, Glo, separate from Joy’s. It’s time to let it shine.”

“I don’t know, Dad. All I’ve done this week is push Tate away. If I were him, I wouldn’t stick around.”

“Yes, you would.”

She smiled.

“Listen. You spend all your life helping others. I’ve always thought of you as a lioness—you’ll protect everyone else, but you won’t protect yourself. Or let others protect you.”

She drew in a breath, the words stinging.

“I…”

“I get it. What if you ask, and they don’t show up? They say no?”

She looked away, her jaw tight.

“No one is going to say no, Glo. You are worthy of help. Of protection. Of sitting night by night by the pool in a lounge chair, pining.”

“Tate is not pining.”

“That’s exactly what he’s doing. And for what it’s worth, I liked David. And if Tate is anything like David?—”

“He’s not as young and naive. But he is brave and sacrificial and…”

“You love him.”

She looked at her dad, his words congealing. “I don’t know if I love him, but…well, he keeps my fire lit.”

“Okay, enough with that metaphor.” Her father laughed. “So…maybe tell him that. Poor man is suffering.”

She leaned over and kissed her father. “You should come around more often.”

“I’m moving back, at least for the campaign. We’ll see if I make it all the way to the White House. First Gentleman…I’m not sure what that looks like.”

“I think the world will be a better place because of it.” She grabbed her yogurt and slid off the stool.

The sun had already bathed the pool area in white light. She put on her sunglasses and found a deck lounger in the shade of an umbrella. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Tate would stroll by, trying not to look…

And she’d do what?

She thumbed open her iPad.

Maybe she’d start with an apology.

A text message flashed on her screen from Kelsey. Found the perfect dress for the CMGs. The message contained a link.

Glo opened it, then scrolled through the also-boughts. Found one she liked and sent the link in a group message to Dixie and Kelsey.

The maintenance crew was on today, and in the distance the sound of the mower bit at the air. The fragrance of fresh-cut lawn seasoned the morning. She glanced around for Tate, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A text came back with shoe options from Dixie. I can’t believe we might get onstage!

Glo would let Kelsey accept the award. Maybe she’d even stay in the audience. But she did have her own fire, the kind that stirred tunes inside her. Even made her take a mic, sing her heart out to a man in the wings.

Boy howdy, Tate knew how to keep the fire going, and she was a jerk for hurting him. At the very least she needed to apologize. And frankly, not just to Tate.

Sloan deserved the same. Yeah, train wreck of epic proportions.

The French doors opened, and she looked over to see her mother walking over to her. She wore her white linen pants and a bold orange shirt that set off her tan, her amber hair caught back in a loose bun.

“I hope you’re using sunscreen,” she said as she sat down on the edge of Glo’s lounger. “A little tan is fine, but you’re not like me. You burn so easily…”

“I’m in the shade, Mother.”

“I know, I just…” She drew in a breath. “I just want you to be happy.”

Oh. Uh.

“And, I have a campaign problem that I don’t know what to do about. I need your help.”

Her. Help? Glo set down the iPad.

“Nicole got an email from Carter, hoping to coordinate security for the CMGs and…she looked at the calendar. I have an event that day in Atlanta and trying to coordinate the security staff to get back for the awards show…maybe I should cancel the event.”

Glo stared at her. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. You’re my daughter. And you’re getting a big award.

And I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.

Security is essential, and you need the entire team.

Nicole says the venue is a nightmare, even if she coordinates with the CMG security people.

We could hire more people, but to get them trained and up to speed before both events…

it’s a logistical nightmare.” She paused.

“No, of course I will cancel. I’ll call Nicole and tell her to halt the preparations for Atlanta. ”

Glo considered her mother, measuring her, but she had picked up her phone?—

“No, Mother, don’t be silly.”

Her mother looked up, her thumb hovering over the Send button.

“I don’t even know if we’re going to win, and if we do, the last thing I want to do is go onstage. No. I don’t need to go. Besides, it’s just going to cause chaos for everyone. It’s just selfish.” She touched her mother’s hand. “Go to Atlanta. Maybe I’ll even go with you. Hold a sign or something.”

Her mother stilled, met her eyes with so much surprise, even warmth in them, it coursed right through Glo, hit her heart, left it a little unwieldy.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Glo’s voice emerged embarrassingly wrecked. “I’m here to support you, Mother.”

“Oh, thank you, Gloria. The folks in Atlanta have worked so hard.” She squeezed Glo’s hand and got up. “I’m so glad you’ve joined our team. We could use your help if we’re going to make it all the way to the White House.”

She went inside and Glo leaned back in the chair, feeling strangely unsettled. But of course it was the right thing to do.

“Apparently, there’s an epidemic going around.”

She turned at the voice and startled to see one of her security standing nearby, quiet, unobtrusive. But he’d spoken, so she pulled down her glasses. “I’m sorry, what?”

“People not getting what they really want.”

“I’m sorry, which one are you?”

“Rags—Art Ragsdale, ma’am. And I know it’s none of my business, but I think you should go to that awards show. Get your award.”

“You’re right, it is none of your business.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Just seems that it’s not selfish to enjoy the fruits of your labor, so to speak. But apparently, suffering in silence is epidemic around here.”

She opened her mouth to retort, had nothing, and closed it. Then, “Are you…I was expecting?—”

“Rango, right?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No. Mr. Marshall.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, but he’s not here. He left this morning.”

Left? Left… ?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when I got up this morning, he was gone. And Sly assigned me to your detail.”

She turned away from him, her throat tightening.

Gone.

Because she’d made him suffer in silence.

Brilliant plan, Glo. Just brilliant.

Operation Angry Tate: mission accomplished.

Ford wasn’t leaving. Not the baseball game, despite the hot sun, and clearly not her life.

Or at least he hadn’t left yet, and going on day five, with him cheering for Gunnar as her brother squinted into the sun in the outfield, Scarlett was starting to get the message.

One she should have spotted on the horizon when thirty seconds after they pulled up, as she’d been retrieving her gear from the back seat, Ford got out.

Then he’d walked around the truck to intercept her mother’s burly boyfriend with a hand out, all gentlemanly, introducing himself as Petty Officer First Class Ford Marshall. With the US Navy SEALs. And yes, he was a teammate of Scarlett.

Sort of like a throwdown, right in her mother’s grassless front yard.

Axel shook his hand, tight-lipped, trying to turn Ford to ash, and although he stood about an inch taller than Ford, maybe six-one, and had the shoulders of a small buffalo, he didn’t possess Ford’s confidence, the buzz under his skin that tremored the very air around him that said: Be. Careful.