“How long is this long?” she asked.
“I met him three weeks ago,” her friend said.
“So why am I only hearing about him now?” Brooke wondered. But she didn’t give Lori a chance to answer before continuing, “What’s his name? Where did you meet him? What did you do on your first date?”
Her friend was more than willing to share all the details during dinner. Of course, she was interrupted on several occasions by other diners stopping by the table just to say hello or to ask Lori about California or to describe a pet’s ailment and request a diagnosis from Dr. Langley—who always suggested they make an appointment because there was no way for her to know what was wrong without examining the animal in question.
But when Lori had finally revealed everything that she knew about hottie firefighter Matthew, it was evident that she was well on her way to falling in love, and Brooke was sincerely happy for her friend.
“It’s time for you to get out there, too,” Lori said, her tone gentle but firm.
“Have you been talking to my son?”
“Not yet, but I’m not going back to San Diego until I get my fill of Brendan cuddles,” her friend promised. “Why?”
“He seemed disappointed that I wasn’t going on a date tonight,” she confided.
“Obviously your son understands that his mom is an incredible woman who deserves to share her life with an equally incredible man.”
Brooke snorted at that. “I think Brendan just wants a dad.”
“Well, of course the incredible man would also be a fabulous father,” Lori said.
“Of course,” she agreed.
“I know you’re skeptical,” her friend said. “But I promise—one day you’re going to meet a man who’ll make you forget all about that idiot who contributed to Brendan’s DNA.”
As an image of Patrick Stafford materialized in her mind, Brooke realized she might already have met that man.
Unfortunately, the sexy rancher had no interest in being anyone’s father.
And by the end of the second week, Brooke had stopped worrying—or secretly hoping—that Patrick might make another move. Because the fact was, since the day of that first kiss, they were rarely ever alone together. Frequent visitors to the Silver Star included each of his sisters, various cousins and friends, and on one occasion, she’d even crossed paths with his grandfather. But Brooke never saw, or even heard mention of, his parents visiting.
What she did hear, from his sister Jenna, was that Liz and Derrick Stafford were far too busy to take an interest in their son’s “little ranch” and that they were certain he’d be back behind a desk at Blake Mining before the end of the summer. Of course his relationship with his parents was none of her business, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry that he couldn’t count on their support as he embarked on a new venture—and even more grateful to know that she’d always had the support of her own.
Chapter Eight
On Saturday, Brendan was with his mom at the Silver Star when she got a message from the clinic’s after-hours answering service that a local sheep farmer was frantic over the possibility that the new rams he’d introduced to his flock might be infected with a fatal degenerative disease. After Brooke had finished with Ranger, she called the farmer back, asked a few pointed questions about the origins of the suspect animals and their behavior, and agreed that the flock should be quarantined and tested—neither a quick nor easy job.
Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she exited the barn in search of her son. Brendan had gone outside to play fetch with Princess, promising to be careful not to throw too far so the pregnant dog didn’t overexert herself.
“Come on, Brendan. We have to go.”
“But we just got here,” he protested.
“I’ve got an emergency situation to deal with,” she said, knowing the information wouldn’t make her son any happier but would compel him to move.
“What? Where?” he asked, already on his feet and handing Princess’s slobbery ball to the rancher.
“Just down the road,” she said. “But I have to take you to Gramma’s first.”
“Why can’t I go with you?” Brendan asked.
At the same time Patrick said, “Why can’t he stay here?”
“Yeah.” Brendan immediately latched on to that option. “Why can’t I stay here?”
“Because I don’t know how long I’m going to be,” she responded to both of them.
“I’m sure I can keep him entertained until you get back,” Patrick said.
“It could be a couple hours,” Brooke warned.
“And the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll get back,” he pointed out.
It would certainly be convenient not to have to drive all the way into town and back again. But still she hesitated, suspecting that the rancher didn’t have a clue what he was getting himself into. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Patrick put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward her truck. “Go.”
“Okay,” she said. “Brendan, I’m going.”
He tipped his head back and puckered his lips for a quick kiss, then raced back to Princess.
Patrick puckered his lips, too, the twinkle in his eye challenging her.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Brooke gave him the same perfunctory peck that she’d given to her son.
So why did it feel completely different?
* * *
Even several hours later, Patrick didn’t regret offering to let Brendan stay at the ranch while Brooke rushed off to deal with the emergency that had called her away. The boy was smart and curious and fun, but he was also a kid without a dad, and Patrick knew he wasn’t the right man to step into that role.
Brendan had shared enough details about his day-to-day activities to reveal that his grandparents were very involved in his life. But Brooke’s son had never mentioned a father, and it seemed that no one knew anything about the man who’d apparently never set foot in Haven and had no contact with the kid.
His choice? Patrick wondered. Or hers?
If he’d fathered a child—and thank God (or maybe only the diligent and proper use of birth control) that had not happened—he wouldn’t have walked away from his responsibilities. He might not have been thrilled by the news of an unplanned pregnancy, but he would have done the right thing.
And he sure as hell wouldn’t have let anyone keep him away from his child.
So what was the story with Brendan’s father? And why did it even matter to Patrick if his only interest was in Brendan’s mother?
He was puzzling over that question when Brendan asked, completely out of the blue, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Not right now I don’t,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Oh, um...because I’ve been busy working to get the ranch ready and haven’t really had the time for a relationship.”
“My mom’s pretty busy, too,” the boy confided. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Maybe,” Patrick agreed.
“She says that she doesn’t need any man in her life but me, but I’m prob’ly not gonna live with her forever, and then she’ll be alone.”
“Well, I’m sure she has a few years before she has to worry about an empty nest,” he said, trying to lift some of the heavy concern he could see weighing on the boy’s slender shoulders.
“But she’s never had a boyfriend.”
Patrick felt as if he should caution the boy against sharing family confidences with outsiders, but it was obvious Brendan didn’t think of him as an outsider, and that made him feel surprisingly good.
“If you wanted a girlfriend, maybe you could talk my mom into being your girlfriend,” Brendan suggested now.
“It doesn’t really work like that,” he said. “A boy and girl bot
h have to want to be together. It’s not something they can be talked into.”
“But you like my mom, don’t you?” he asked, sounding almost desperately hopeful.
“Yes, I like your mom,” he confirmed. A whole lot more than he probably should, considering the complicated circumstances of their respective lives.
“And she likes you,” Brendan said. “I know she does ’cause she puts that shiny stuff on her lips before we come over here.”
“Does she?” he asked, both surprised and pleased by this revelation.
The boy nodded. “And she doesn’t do it when we’re going to the Rolling Meadows or the Circle G.”
“Really?” he mused.
Brendan nodded. Then his brow furrowed as a new thought occurred to him. “Is it me? Am I the reason you don’t want to date my mom?”
“What? No,” Patrick denied. Because while he’d never before wanted to get involved with a woman tangled up with child-size responsibilities, he couldn’t seem to resist Brooke.
And as it turned out, her kid was pretty irresistible, too.
“Where would you get an idea like that?” he asked now.
“My friend Mason said his mom’s boyfriend dumped her because he didn’t want to be a dad to someone else’s kid.”
“Then I’d say Mason’s mom is better off without him.”
“That’s what she said,” Brendan told him.
“Well, she’s right,” Patrick said, hating to think that any child would ever feel responsible because a man was selfishly unwilling to step up. As he’d been unwilling to do. But now that he’d had a chance to get to know both Brooke and Brendan a little bit better, he was starting to reconsider his position.
“So what do you think about dating my mom?” the boy pressed, clearly unwilling to give up on the idea.
“I think your mom doesn’t need you to play matchmaker,” Patrick said gently. “She’s a smart, beautiful and amazing woman who wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to go out with if she was interested in dating.”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “But I want her to go out with someone I like hanging out with, too.”
“You know, you and I can hang out even if I’m not dating your mom,” he pointed out.
“Maybe,” Brendan said dubiously. “Until she starts dating someone else.”
Yeah, Patrick silently agreed. That would really suck.
* * *
“I’m so sorry,” Brooke said, when Patrick opened the door in response to her knock a short while later.
“You can stop apologizing anytime now,” he told her, a reference to the multiple text messages she’d sent throughout the afternoon doing just that.
“No, I can’t, because I know when you offered to let Brendan hang out, you thought it would only be for an hour or so, and I’ve been gone—” she glanced at her watch and winced “—more than five hours.”
And he could tell, by the weariness in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders, that she’d been working hard for all of those hours.
She sniffed the air. “And it’s obviously dinnertime because you’re cooking.” She tilted her head, giving him a closer study. “You cook?”
He ignored her question to ask his own. “Are you hungry?”
Her stomach growled an immediate response.
He chuckled.
“Lunch was a long time ago,” she confided.
“Then come on in and wash up for dinner,” he said.
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I wasn’t fishing for an invitation.”
“I know, but I’ve been holding dinner for you.”
“You cooked for me?” she asked, clearly taken aback by that possibility even more than the fact that he could cook.
“I cooked because I was hungry,” he clarified. “I cooked enough so that you and Brendan could eat, too.”
“Where is Brendan?”
“Watching TV in the family room. He’s already eaten,” Patrick told her.
“He has?”
He nodded. “Your son was adamant that six o’clock is dinnertime, so I made sure he had his dinner at six o’clock.”
“He gets that from my dad—a definite creature of habit,” she acknowledged, making her way to the sink to wash up.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked. “Beer? Wine?”
“A big glass of water, please,” she said, because she was parched. “And maybe half a glass of wine?” Because after the day she’d had, she deserved a little indulgence.
“I’ve got a Napa Valley merlot or a Finger Lakes pinot noir,” he said, as he filled a tall glass with water from the dispenser in the door of the fridge.
“Your choice,” she said.
He gave her the water, then uncorked the pinot noir and poured it into two glasses, passing one to Brooke.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything today.”
“Not a problem.” He opened the oven to retrieve the two plates he’d left warming.
Brooke lifted herself onto one of the stools as he set the plates on the island.
“Dig in,” he urged, taking a seat beside her and picking up his own fork.
Brooke didn’t need to be told twice.
“Mmm,” she said, after chewing and swallowing her third mouthful. “This is really good.”
“It’s not fancy but it’s filling,” he agreed.
“My mom makes a good meat loaf,” she said. “But I’m not sure it’s as good as this.”
“Brendan seemed to think mine was better than Gramma’s,” he told her.
She chuckled. “He’ll tell her that, too.”
“I get the impression that he spends a lot of time with his grandparents.”
“Probably more with them than with me,” she confided. “I’m sure it was a nice change of pace for him to spend the day with someone different.”
“Does Brendan ever see his dad?” he asked, his tone casual.
She stiffened in response to the question and glanced toward the wide entranceway that led to the family room, as if to ensure that her son was still engrossed in his television program and not within earshot. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?”
“We didn’t have a conversation. You said Brendan didn’t have a father and that was the end of it.”
“And nothing has changed since then,” she told him.
“You didn’t get pregnant by yourself,” Patrick pointed out.
“No,” she acknowledged. “But that’s where his involvement ended.”
She set her fork and knife on top of her empty plate. “Thank you for dinner,” she said, clearly indicating that she’d said everything she intended to say on the subject of Brendan’s father.
And once again, it wasn’t much at all.
Unwilling to push and risk her further withdrawal, he said, “I figured you’d be happy to have a hot meal at the end of a long day.”
“Truthfully, I would have been happy with a peanut butter sandwich,” she said, pushing away from the island to carry her plate and glass to the sink. He followed with his own. “A hot meal pushes me beyond happy all the way to ecstatic.”
He chuckled at that as he set his dishes down and drew her into his arms.
“Patrick,” she said, sounding wary.
“Brooke,” he echoed, amused.
“Ecstatic doesn’t mean easy,” she told him.
“You mean you’re not going to let me have my way with you while your son is watching SpongeBob on TV?” he asked, with feigned disappointment.
She smiled then. “Not this time.”
“And now you’ve given me hope that there’s going to be a next time,” he warned.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I’m not trying to string you along.”
“I know,” he assured her
. “I just thought that maybe it was time to finally finish that conversation we started a long time ago.”
“I’ve had a really long day. And so have you,” she said.
“Okay, we’ll skip the conversation,” he decided and lowered his mouth to hers.
It was a casual kiss—teasing, testing—and Brooke knew that if she pulled away, he’d let her go.
She didn’t pull away.
Though she still had concerns about acting on the attraction between them, she couldn’t object to a kiss.
Sensing her acquiescence, one of his hands settled on her hip while the other slid up her spine to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. She opened for him, not just willing but eager to meet the searching thrust of his tongue with her own.
Did he draw her closer?
Or did she lean into him?
She didn’t know. She only knew that suddenly her breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and electricity was sparking through her veins, igniting a deeper desire.
She clung to him, her fingers digging into the soft flannel that covered his broad shoulders, and briefly fantasized about tearing the fabric open to expose his bare skin, to examine and explore the taut muscles with her hands, with her mouth. To touch and taste him all over.
She was shocked by the explicitness of her own fantasy, and the desire that pulsed through her. A desire that she couldn’t give in to. Not here. Not now. Not with this man.
Because Patrick Stafford wasn’t just handsome and charming. The way she felt when she was with him was far too reminiscent of the way she’d felt when she was with Xander. And she’d promised herself, long ago, that she would learn from her mistakes.
She eased her lips away from his and drew in a long breath, filling her lungs with air.
“That was definitely a sweet end to the meal,” he said. “And dangerously addictive.”
He was right on both counts, and the truth only made her more wary. “What are we doing here, Patrick?”
“I thought we were enjoying spending time together,” he said.
Which sounded simple and easy, and yet... “I don’t want to get used to this.”
“Because you don’t trust me to stick?” he guessed.
A Chance for the Rancher Page 9
