“I want to read this one,” Poppy said, holding up the book. She passed it over to him and squirmed up onto the couch, next to him.
“Okay. But you never like how I read,” he said, grabbing the blanket and draping it around his daughter.
“You need the blanket, too,” Poppy said, nudging a corner onto his knee. “Then we’ll both be cozy.”
“Okay, we’ll both be cozy.” Billy looked tenderly down at his little girl. She wouldn’t stay this small—that’s what everyone kept telling him. In the short time she’d been with him, he’d already noticed signs of her getting older, slightly more mature in her views of things. Her vocabulary sure was growing!
“Now, you read the story, Daddy,” Poppy said. “But no silly business. You have to read it right, or I’ll tell Miss Beverly.”
“You’ll tell on me?” he chuckled.
Suddenly her lip quivered and she shook her head. “No, I won’t tell on you...”
Her eyes were wide and her cheeks paled. How many times had her mother asked her to keep secrets? He had no idea, but if she’d been left inside a parked vehicle while her mother went into the bar, then he had a feeling there were more secrets this girl had been keeping. He’d gotten some lectures of his own as a kid. Don’t tell anyone you’re home alone in the evenings, son, or they’ll take you away from me! And he’d been scared to death of someone finding out how much his mom left him on his own. Moms didn’t have to be perfect, or even functional, for their kids to love them with their whole hearts.
“Poppy, you don’t have to worry,” Billy said. “You’re with me now, and no one is going to take you away. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Poppy was silent. She dropped her gaze to the book and started to pick at the corner with her small, pale fingers.
“I’m not ever going to ask you to keep secrets,” Billy said. “Not a single one. Okay? Because I’m not going to do anything that would get me into trouble. So you can tell Miss Beverly anything you want. I’m a good dad, and I’m going to stay that way.”
Poppy eyed him for a moment. “Mommy went away, though.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But we’re going to call her tonight and see if she can talk a little bit, okay?”
“We’ll call Mommy?” Poppy asked, brightening.
He’d tried calling Carol-Ann a few times on the cell number she’d given. They’d talked once when Poppy was asleep already. It had been one of those one-sided conversations in which Carol-Ann shouted into her phone, the sound of a party blaring behind her.
“But story time first,” Billy said. “You’ve got to read to me.”
“No, Daddy, it’s the other way around,” Poppy said solemnly. “You read to me. That’s how it works. I know that because, in stories, the daddies always read to the children. That’s the way it works.”
He looked down at her for a moment, uncertain of what he’d even do. But then, before he could think better of it, he said, “I don’t know how, Poppy.”
“Yes, you do!” she said with a shake of her head. “You just read it right, and stop being silly!”
If only it were that easy. He wasn’t the kind of guy who pestered a little girl for entertainment. He loved this kid, and he wanted to do just as she asked.
“When I was small like you, I didn’t learn to read,” he said slowly. “And when I went to school, it didn’t... It was hard.”
Poppy frowned, looking up at him.
“See, Poppy, when I look at the words, they get all jumbled up for me, and I’ve been making the story up instead of reading it because—” a lump closed his throat “—because I can’t.”
“Daddy, you don’t know how to read?” Poppy whispered.
Billy’s heart ached, and he looked away from her. “Nope.”
“I can show you how,” Poppy said hopefully. “It’s easy!”
“Well...” Billy rubbed a hand over his chin. “Miss Beverly says she can show me some tricks that might help while she’s teaching you. Would you mind sharing Miss Beverly with me?”
“Okay.” Poppy slid closer to Billy again and leaned her cheek against his arm. “We still need a bedtime story, though, Daddy.”
“How about I tell you one?” Billy said hopefully. “Then you can read your book in bed.”
Poppy nodded, and Billy slid his arm around her, racking his brain for a story.
“Once upon a time, when I was a little boy,” Billy began, “there was a boy in my class who used to pick his nose.”
“You aren’t supposed to,” Poppy said.
“Well, I know that, and you know that, but this kid didn’t,” Billy said with a low laugh. “And one day, he was caught picking his nose by a big bully.”
“Was it you who picked your nose, Daddy?” Poppy asked solemnly.
Billy eyed her for a moment, then sighed. “Yes.”
“Okay, go on. What happened?”
Billy chuckled. He might not have stories from books in his head, but he had a whole lot of life experience. He still had wisdom to pass along to his daughter, and some of it was pretty simple, like don’t pick your nose in first grade.
After he told his story, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Carol-Ann’s number. It rang five times, and then she answered, sounding groggy.
“Do you know what time it is?” she growled into the phone.
“Carol-Ann, it’s Billy,” he said.
“Oh.” Her tone softened somewhat. “It’s like...three in the morning here, and I am seriously hungover...”
“Sorry.” He winced. “Poppy wanted to say hi.”
“Yeah?” Carol-Ann sighed. “Okay. Put her on. But tell her to talk softly. My head is going to explode.”
Billy passed the phone over to his daughter, and Poppy put it against her ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Mommy? It’s me. I miss you. When are you coming back?”
There was a pause while Poppy listened, holding her breath.
“But I miss you,” Poppy whispered. “I don’t want to see you on TV. I want to see you here!” Silence again as Poppy listened. “But I miss you...”
Poppy’s tears fell and she threw the phone back at Billy, then ran to her bedroom, her quilt dragging after her. Billy watched his daughter go, then picked up the phone.
“Carol-Ann?” he said. “What did you say to her?”
“I said I have a chance to be something,” Carol-Ann said. “Billy, I wasn’t much of a mom back in the States, anyway. You might as well know it. But explain it to her. It’s better this way—I’ll have a real chance at a career in modeling. That doesn’t come easy. Maybe you can send her out on a plane in a few months to visit me.”
Sending his four-year-old on a plane to Germany. Yeah. Not likely.
“She needs to see you,” he said. “Pictures even. Maybe you could text me some selfies or something, and I can at least show her pictures of her mom.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Carol-Ann said. “And send me some pictures of her, too! I know this is going to be a hard wait, but it’s worth it...”
“I don’t think it is,” he said quietly.
Carol-Ann was silent. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going back to sleep. Tell Poppy I love her.”
Love—it was more than a word; it was an action. And Carol-Ann had no idea what love was if she could walk away from her four-year-old for a modeling gig. His daughter was going to carry the scars from this for the rest of her life.
“I’m going to fight you for custody when you come back,” he added quietly. He hadn’t planned on threatening her with this, but he realized in the moment that it was true. When Carol-Ann came back to the States, there would be no picking up where she had left off. Poppy needed a safe home, with a parent who would put her first. And now that he knew about his little girl, he wasn’t going away again.
“Stop being dr
amatic,” Carol-Ann sighed. “I’ll send pictures, all right? When I get up. In the morning. Thanks for everything, Billy. I appreciate it.”
Billy hung up the phone without another word. Then he pushed himself to his feet and headed for Poppy’s bedroom. He paused at her door and knocked on the frame softly.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Being a dad was going to be more than buying snow pants and figuring out how to do her hair. It was going to mean manning up in every way possible for her. He’d be the father she needed. He’d make up for Carol-Ann’s insufficiencies and he’d give Poppy all the security and love that made for a good childhood.
This wasn’t about child welfare services anymore, if it ever was. This was about his daughter. And one of these days, he was going to read his daughter a bedtime story. Poppy deserved the whole package.
Maybe Grace was right—he should have opened up to her sooner. Maybe she could help him to be the father he longed to be, if he could just keep things balanced properly. He needed his friend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE STOOD IN the lineup at Dark Roast, Eagle’s Rest’s best coffee shop. The hiss of a milk steamer floated across the shop, and the comforting aroma of coffee wrapped itself around her. It was Saturday morning, and she hadn’t slept well the night before, her mind spinning over yesterday’s revelation. Billy couldn’t read...and she felt somewhat responsible for not having noticed. She’d always thought of herself as a natural teacher, but to have missed something so glaring in her best friend? It was humbling, both in her teaching instincts and in what she thought about their friendship. She wouldn’t have been able to keep that kind of secret from him, though she’d hidden her unrequited love. That was another kind of secret altogether.
And then there was that moment by the fridge when he’d admitted he should have told her... Had there been something more to that? She’d seen the warmth in his eyes, and then there was the way he’d touched her face...
Why was she letting herself do this again? There had been other times when they’d had a connection like that, and it had never blossomed into anything. She was irritated with herself for even allowing herself to overanalyze the situation. Not again. She was supposed to be past that.
The line moved forward, and Grace scanned the menu board. She always ordered the same thing—chai tea with cream and sugar, and a bagel. It was comfort food, and this morning she needed it more than ever.
She pulled a hand through her hair and loosened her scarf. She wore a pair of leggings this morning, embroidered up the calf with twining crimson roses. She’d paired them with an oversize charcoal-gray sweater and a crimson scarf at her neck. She used to wear a lot of black—but not like this. Before it was jeans, and T-shirts and hoodies in muted colors that wouldn’t draw attention. Now if she wore black, it was to offset a favorite scarf or to make a jeweled belt sparkle. Her time in Denver had opened her eyes to a lot of things—namely, that her size wasn’t a liability. She could dress well, look fantastic and draw the male eye just as well as thin women could. It was all about confidence...and shopping in the right stores that she hadn’t had access to here in Eagle’s Rest.
Was that the difference in her that Billy had noticed—something as shallow as fashion?
“Gracie?”
Grace looked up to see an older woman just leaving the front of the line with a to-go cup of coffee in her hands. Grace knew her immediately—it was Heather, Billy’s mom. She didn’t have any makeup on other than mascara, and she looked tired. Her hair was styled into her regular spiky do, and she wore a pair of jeans and a bulky coat.
“Hi, Miss Austin,” Grace said with a smile.
“Oh, come on, we’re adults now. When are you going to call me Heather?” Heather stopped where Grace stood. “I heard you’re teaching my granddaughter.”
“I am.” Grace smiled. “She’s a real cutie. Congrats on the surprise grandchild, by the way.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “That was a bombshell. But she’s a cutie, all right. You want to stay and chat a bit?”
“Sure,” Grace said. “Let me just order, and I’ll come over.”
Heather headed for a table, hanging her purse over the back of a chair, then peeling off her jacket. Grace didn’t have much else to do today, and while chatting with Billy’s mom didn’t exactly equal avoiding her feelings for the man, it was better than sticking inside her own head.
Once she had her order, she headed back to the table where Heather was waiting.
Heather hadn’t changed a bit in the last three years, which was comforting in its own way.
“So, tell me everything,” Heather said as Grace sank into the chair opposite her. “How have you been? Broken any hearts lately?”
Grace chuckled. “Not really. But I’ve been good. I’m a teacher now, as you know.”
“And how is...my granddaughter?” Heather asked, her smile slipping.
“Uh—haven’t you seen Poppy?” Grace asked.
“A couple of nights ago, I got my first proper visit with the kiddo,” Heather said. “She’s adorable—looks so much like Billy at that age, except blonde, of course.”
“What’s going on between you and Billy?” Grace asked. “If I can even ask that...”
“Nothing! Everything’s...” Heather stopped, a blush creeping onto her face. “Okay, I know, I know. Billy’s being distant, and it hurts. He’s decided that I shouldn’t mention my work in front of the kid. It’s dumb, but I’m trying to cooperate. Heaven forbid she know that adults consume alcohol. Poppy has a grandmother with a job. You’d think that would be something to be proud of.”
“He might have a point, though,” Grace said. “It might not be age appropriate to talk about the bar.”
“I raised him, and he turned out great,” she retorted. “I didn’t hide things from him. He needed to know how the world worked, and he also needed to trust me to give him accurate information. I never lied to him. Not once. But now he’s all determined to raise his daughter better than I managed with him.”
“He said that?”
“Between the lines.” Heather sighed, and then she took a sip of her coffee. “I did my best with him, you know.”
“I know,” Grace said. “And Billy adores you. You know that.”
“Billy’s deeply angry,” Heather replied. “He’s got some big surprises coming his way if he thinks raising a child on his own is easy. I didn’t have family around. I had to work, support the two of us and try to put my own life together while I took care of him—”
“Heather, he loves you!” Grace insisted. “And you’re right—he’s brand-new to being a dad. Maybe it’s like how everyone is an expert parent before they have kids.”
Heather shrugged. “I can only hope. He never came back to visit me once. All that time in Denver, and Tracy was all he needed. Do you know what it’s like to have your son at the center of your world, and then have him just walk off like that?”
Grace dropped her gaze. She’d felt the sting of his romance with Tracy, too, but for different reasons.
“Sorry to complain,” Heather said with a sigh. “Mostly I was hoping you could tell me about Poppy. How she’s doing... How she’s adjusting. All I know is that she’s ridiculously smart.”
“She is,” Grace confirmed. “She loves books and stories. And numbers... She loves carpet time in the classroom. That’s where I read them stories. I hold up the book so that the kids can see the pictures, and she always leans forward so she can read ahead.” Grace chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve found anything she doesn’t like yet.”
Heather smiled uncertainly. “So...what do you buy a kid like that? For a present, I mean. I want to buy her affection.”
Grace smiled at the dry joke. “She loves books. I’ve been bringing books from the school, but obviously she can’t keep those.”
/> “Books.” Heather nodded a couple of times, and Grace could tell that wasn’t the answer that she’d been hoping for. “I’ve never been much of a reader. I wouldn’t even know where to start. She’s going to find out I’m not like her, and combine that with whatever her dad is telling her about me—”
“Billy isn’t trashing you,” Grace interrupted. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t, at least. He’s really overwhelmed. Poppy is gifted, and he’s been trying to find out what she needs.”
“What does she need?” Heather asked, and she fixed her eyes on Grace’s face imploringly. “Because I’ll buy it for her. Anything.”
Grace regarded the older woman for a moment, then shrugged. “You want my opinion?”
“Yes!”
“She needs a grandma.”
Tears misted Heather’s eyes. “I’m not sure I’m much good at that. I’ve never been the knitting and baking type.”
“She needs to belong,” Grace said. “She needs to be loved. She needs to feel like she’s part of a family—because from what I can tell, she was neglected a lot by her mom.”
“We got that impression,” Heather said breathily.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Billy needs you, too,” Grace said. “Maybe he’s upset about some stuff right now, but that doesn’t change that you’re his mom, and he needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job.”
“If he’d even let me...” Heather sighed. “It’s okay. This isn’t your problem, Grace. Sorry to unload on you.”
Grace shrugged. “He dumped me for Tracy, too. I mean, not romantically, obviously, but he slid off with Tracy, and he didn’t seem to even see the rest of us anymore.”
“What?” Heather frowned. “I always figured your friendship would outlast whatever woman he was dating.”
“In all honesty, I kind of backed off once he got really serious with Tracy. But it changed things. He opened up to her in ways he wouldn’t with me—and maybe that was just natural.”
“Tracy was different, wasn’t she?” Heather said thoughtfully. “You know why?”
Grace shook her head.
Falling for the Cowboy Dad Page 9
