“Let me tell you something, little one,” Heather said. “Some people are just messed up. And it sounds like your mother was one of them.”
“That’s what you’ve got?” Billy demanded, shooting his mother an exasperated look. Insulting her mom didn’t seem like it was helpful right now.
“It’s the truth!” Heather retorted. “What else are you going to say? Oh, I know...” Heather looked down at Poppy with a smile. “That’ll never happen to you here. Your dad doesn’t even drink.”
Poppy was silent, her blue gaze moving between Heather and Billy, and Billy heaved a sigh. His daughter had been through more in her few years than he had realized. For all of his resentments when it came to his own mother, Poppy had had it worse.
“Now, I’m making chicken dinner, Poppy. Do you like chicken dinner?” Heather went on.
“Yeah!” Poppy said, some of the life coming back into her.
“Are you a good potato masher?” Heather asked. “Because I need a very good potato masher to help me.”
Billy grabbed some plates from the cupboard to set the table while his mom drained the potatoes, tied a too-big apron around Poppy’s waist and armed her with a metal masher. This house was a new place—she’d lived in an apartment when he left for Denver. He glanced around the little house, taking in the familiar details, like the old tin tea canister on the counter, the same old CorningWare dishes they’d always had and the same brown recliner Billy used to sit in and watch TV while his mom was working a late shift.
It had been a lonely childhood. He’d raised himself more than anything, and his mother had done her best, but... Billy sighed.
“So, how is Grace?” Heather asked once she got Poppy started with the mashing. She turned toward Billy with a small smile.
“Fine.” Billy shrugged. “Great, actually. She’s got a new job lined up in Denver, and...yeah, she’s great.”
He didn’t want to say how good it was to see Grace again, or how relieved he was to just sit with her in the pizza place and talk again. She was a relief to be around—no posturing or flirting. Grace was comfortable, a big part of “home.” But he’d already started messing things up as a dad because he wanted to be around her so badly, so she wasn’t his favorite topic. If he was going to do better than his mom had, then he’d better stop chasing down his own comfort.
“You mentioned that Tracy is out of the picture now,” Heather said.
“Yep.” He gave a curt nod.
“I always said you should have been with Gracie,” Heather said.
“What?” Billy retorted. “No, you didn’t. You just said that Tracy was awful.”
“I did too tell you that you should have been with Grace. I told you that she was the one girl who treated you nicely and didn’t want to use you for something.”
“You thought every woman was beneath me, Mom,” he said with a short laugh.
“Was I wrong about Tracy?” Heather retorted, her eyebrows raised.
Billy sighed and turned his attention to the contents of the house. There was a new couch—completely mismatched from the recliner—and what looked like a fancy surround sound system.
“You’ve got some new stuff,” Billy commented.
“Well, Gerald takes good care of me,” Heather replied.
“Gerald?” Billy frowned. “Who’s he?”
“My boyfriend,” she said. “He wanted to be here tonight to see you two, but I said it was probably better if I did this alone.”
“Good call,” he muttered. This was a time for family, not whatever interloper his mother happened to be dating.
“Gerald is a nice guy, Billy. He got me that speaker system for when we watch movies here at home, and he even got the brakes fixed on my car. He’s generous.”
“Does he live here?” Billy asked, glancing around the house. There was a lot he didn’t know about his mom’s life now.
“No,” Heather replied. “He doesn’t. But he’s nice. I think you’d like him.”
“Hmm.”
He’d heard all this a hundred times before. She kept meeting them, and they kept breaking her heart. It shouldn’t be a twelve-year-old boy’s job to comfort his mom and tell her that she’d meet a better boyfriend than the last one who didn’t work out. A sixteen-year-old shouldn’t be kicking some drunk jerk out the apartment. A nine-year-old shouldn’t be waiting up for his mom to get back from a date after midnight. And then when she did get back, he’d pretend he was asleep on the couch, and she’d kiss his cheek and tiptoe past him to her bedroom. Then Billy would be stuck with his lie, and he’d have to stay there in the dark living room, staring at the curtains and wondering when he could creep back to his own room and the comfort of his bed...
“We’ve been dating now for almost a year,” his mother said, pinning a hopeful look on him. “He’s nice.”
“You said that already,” he replied.
“I was hoping you might want to meet him.” She smiled hesitantly. “He’s a good one, Billy. Finally.”
“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m busy, Mom. I’m raising a daughter of my own now, and I’m not interested in whatever guy you’re dating. Sorry.”
He could see the pain in her eyes as he said the words, and he felt like a jerk. But it was true—he’d been through countless boyfriends with her, and it had always been the same. Besides, this was about family—a new granddaughter—not about some outsider who’d smile too big and make uncomfortable jokes that his mother would laugh too hard at.
“Why not?” Heather pressed. “I’ve met his kids. They’re nice. He even has grandkids, and I’ve met a couple of them, too. It would be appropriate if he could see my son I’ve been talking about all this time. And Poppy, too...”
“I’m not confusing Poppy any more than she already is,” Billy said, keeping his voice low. “Forget it, Mom. I’m glad you like this guy. I hope he works out. But I’m not raising Poppy like you raised me.”
“Like I raised you...” she said, breathily, and then she ground her teeth together.
“She’s not meeting your boyfriends. I’m glad you’ve got someone, but Poppy is going to have a little more stability.”
“Oh...” Tears misted Heather’s eyes. “Okay then. Gotcha.”
His mother turned away from him and took the masher from Poppy’s hand to finish the job herself. A wave of regret crashed over him, and he heaved a sigh. His anger was rooted in that impotent protectiveness he felt for his mother. It hadn’t mattered how much he wanted to save her from heartbreak, she’d waltzed right back into it. And it had never mattered if Billy wanted to shelter her from more disappointment, because he couldn’t stop her, or the idiots she dated, from starting up all over again. He’d loved his mother so deeply and wanted to shield her from every hurt, but he’d been a kid and had no power to protect her. Now that he was an adult and might actually be able to do something, he realized he had no right to interfere.
But Poppy—she’d be the one who’d be caught in the middle and have her little heart torn out every time Grandma cried over some lost boyfriend. And Billy could protect his daughter. That was where he had both the capability to shelter her and the right to stand between her and the confusing adult world.
“Chicken dinner!” Poppy sang out as she hopped down from the kitchen chair she’d been standing on to reach the counter, and Heather gave the bowl another going over with the masher before she carried the potatoes to the table.
Billy felt bad. He hadn’t meant to insult his mother, but there was so much they’d never needed to talk about that was bubbling up now that Poppy was in the picture.
“Mom—” Billy started.
“Son, would you please get the chicken out of the oven?” Heather said briskly.
“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed a pair of oven mitts from the counter and pulled out a perfectly roasted ch
icken. He carried it to the table, where a cork pad waited.
“We’re going to say grace before we eat,” Heather said.
“Since when?” Billy asked with a short laugh. Was this from her boyfriend?
“Since this is my home and I’m still your mother!” Heather retorted. “Now sit down.”
Billy did as he was asked, and he looked across the table at Poppy, who watched him with wide eyes. This was a whole new dynamic for her to witness. Whatever—he couldn’t change people. He met Poppy’s serious gaze and winked at her. A smile crept over her face. Heather might be his mom, but Billy was now a dad. He couldn’t protect Poppy from everything, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
* * *
BY MIDMORNING, GRACE knew she needed to meet with the mothers of two of her students who needed some extra help. One wasn’t potty trained yet, and preschool wasn’t the place for potty training. The other was a biter. Her job was to help the kids conquer their challenges, but some challenges required a little more parental participation than others.
Still, if she was meeting with parents for more than a quick chat, she wouldn’t be able to give Poppy her lesson right after school, so she called Billy at morning recess. She’d normally just text someone, but Billy was quirky that way—he never answered texts or even bothered to check them. He’d always figured if something was important enough, the person would call. She’d always teased him that he was an old guy in a young body.
She dialed his number.
“Yeah,” he said—Billy’s way of picking up.
“Hi,” she said. “How’s it going over there?”
“Hey, Gracie.” His voice softened, and she shut her eyes, trying to steel herself against that flood of emotion she no longer wanted to feel.
“I have some meetings this afternoon,” Grace said. “So I need to cancel our tutoring session.”
“No problem,” he said. “Why don’t you come over here when you’re done? Come for supper. I’ll surprise you with something good.”
She was curious to see where he was staying—if she were being brutally honest. A man’s home was personal. It said a lot about him, and in some ways, this felt like old times—when she was welcomed into his personal space, and she’d feel closer to him than ever before...
But not this time around. Billy would offer dinner. He’d cook up something delicious and insist she try it. He’d pick up some ice cream she wouldn’t be able to refuse, and they’d sit with the tub between them and two spoons... She could already see where this would go.
“No,” she said, more curtly than she’d intended, and then she cleared his throat. “Not for supper.”
“No?” He didn’t sound daunted. “After supper, then?”
“I could do that,” she agreed. Why was she agreeing? But saying no—it was hard with Billy. “How about seven?”
“Seven works.” His voice was so deep and warm, and she hated that. She couldn’t be the only woman who melted for it, and reminding herself of that seemed to help.
“What’s the address?” she asked, and as he recited it for her, she jotted it down. Poppy still needed her lessons, and even if she was looking forward to seeing Billy this evening, she’d steel herself against his charms. Their relationship didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to her.
So after her meetings and a quick supper at home with her parents, Grace headed back out into the cold winter evening. She put the address into her GPS and followed the mechanical voice out of town and toward the foothills.
As she pulled into the long drive that led up to the Ross Ranch, she glanced down at the directions around the property. He was staying in a cabin just behind the canteen, rather than in the main house. She stopped twice to get directions from various workers, and when she finally pulled up to the cabin, she heaved a sigh.
The curtain in the window flicked and Poppy looked out. She waved happily. Then Billy’s face appeared far above hers and he shot Grace a grin as she got out of her car. The front door opened as she came up to the step, and Poppy hopped joyfully from foot to foot in the warm glow of the doorway.
“Hi, Poppy,” Grace said. “Are you ready to learn?”
“Yep!” Poppy said. “I’m ready! I had my supper, and I brushed my teeth, and I took my bath, and now Daddy says I can learn stuff.”
Billy tugged Poppy back out of the doorway to let Grace inside, and as Grace took off her boots and coat, Poppy danced around in excitement. Grace looked around the cabin—it wasn’t very big. The main room included a sitting area and the kitchen, and there were two closed doors that she imagined led to bedrooms. It was cozy, and she could still smell the aroma of supper in the air—mac and cheese, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Did you find it okay?” Billy asked, holding up his cell phone. “I was prepared to come out looking for you, if I had to.”
“I asked a couple of different cowboys for directions,” she said with a shrug.
“Long day?” Billy took her coat and hung it up for her. He then headed for the kitchen side of the room. He had a simmering pot on the stove, and he poured the steaming water into a teapot.
“Yeah. I had a meeting with some parents. That’s never easy.”
“No?” He shot her a rueful smile.
“Not you, of course,” she added cheekily. “You’re the exception.”
“Aren’t I always.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t have a kettle. One more thing on my list of stuff to pick up the next time I’m in Walmart.”
“No worries,” she said. But from the look of it, Billy had been picking up stuff for his daughter—the new snowsuit, a pair of fluffy slippers, what looked like a new stuffed dog on the couch. He’d just had to prioritize, and she could understand that. He was a dad... It was both strange to see Billy in this role, but also right. He’d always had a soft heart.
That old pang of familiar longing rose up, and she did her best to push it back down. She wasn’t here to joke and cozy up with Billy like old times. She was here for her pupil, and she wouldn’t get distracted.
“I’ve got some books we can read together today,” Grace said, picking up her bag and opening it. “I think you’ll like these ones, and I thought you could read them to your daddy—to give you both some practice at that.”
Billy eyed her for a moment, then tossed a tea bag into the teapot.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “You two can get started.”
“Daddy reads them wrong,” Poppy said. “Every time.”
“Does he tease you?” Grace asked with a laugh. She’d never seen Billy read a book in her life, but she was pretty sure he could make an exception for his little girl. Besides, reading together would help the two of them bond.
“Yeah, he teases,” Poppy said with a sigh. “He should read them right, shouldn’t he, Miss Beverly?”
“I’m going to have to insist, Billy,” she said with a grin of her own. “Come on. When Mrs. Powell comes back from maternity leave, she’s not going to have as much free time as I seem to have. She’ll have a new baby waiting for her at a day care, remember? So I’m going to have to show you how to give Poppy a bit of a challenge.”
“Uh, yeah...” Billy nodded, grabbed a couple of mugs and filled them with tea. “You want sugar?”
The mugs steamed temptingly.
“Sure,” she said.
Billy scooped a couple of teaspoons of sugar into each mug, gave them a stir and then brought one over to her. He sank into the couch, next to Grace, and she took a sip, glancing over at him.
“And your dad won’t tease you this time,” Grace said with some mock firmness. “Right, Billy?”
Billy smiled ruefully, but didn’t answer.
“So, this first book is about a princess,” Grace went on, putting her mug down on a side table. Billy was so close, his muscular arm just inches from her
s. He smelled musky and warm, and she felt that old temptation to just lean up against his rock-hard shoulder...
Instead Grace patted the space on the couch between her and Billy. “Do you want to come sit here, Poppy?”
Poppy squeezed in and picked up the book. A small child was about as good of a buffer zone as a woman could ask for, and Grace looked over Poppy’s head at Billy, who was staring down at the book, his expression granite. Poppy scanned the first page, flipped it, scanned the next...flipped again.
“Poppy, we’re going to read out loud,” Grace said.
“I just wanted to see how it ends,” Poppy said, and Grace shook her head and laughed. This little girl was so bright, and she wanted to keep rushing on ahead. Teaching a gifted child to slow down and go deeper—that was the real challenge.
Billy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and he pressed his lips together. His gaze flickered from the page to his daughter, then back to the page again. He looked...daunted. For once Billy Austin had met his match...in a four-year-old.
“I might not be good at this,” Billy said quietly, and he shot Grace a pleading look over Poppy’s head.
“Oh, this is the easy stuff, Billy,” she said. “You aren’t dealing with boyfriends and body-image issues. This is story time. It’s fun.”
“Yeah, right.” He didn’t look convinced, so Grace plunged on.
“You’ll want to have her practice reading by pointing to each word. I’ve noticed that she’ll speed ahead to figure out what happens, but she’ll miss out on details. It’s a common thing for exceptional readers—sometimes they need help slowing down, ironically enough.”
“Uh. Yeah. Okay.” Billy cleared his throat.
Was it her? Was he less comfortable around Grace than he’d been before? Maybe she was expecting too much. She’d been blaming him for acting like nothing had changed, but maybe Grace was the one with the problem there.
Falling for the Cowboy Dad Page 7
