by Jill Kemerer
“Get it nice and straight.” Stu made a motion with his wrist.
Dylan sighed and forced himself to do it the way he’d been shown. This time the line raced out ahead of him easily. It served no purpose to keep thinking about his late father. Still, he wondered what would Dad think if he could see him today? Fly-fishing. Ranching. Sleeping in a tiny, rustic cabin. Hanging out with his niece and her pretty aunt.
He’d shake his head in disappointment. Manual labor? Not for the Kingsleys. Fishing? A waste of time. And he’d throw in his two cents about being on his guard concerning Gabby. There would be the prenup lecture Dad insisted on giving every time Dylan talked to a woman.
Nothing he did had ever been good enough.
“Hey, you got one!” Stu pointed to where his line disappeared in the water. “Jerk up to set the hook. Don’t pull too hard. I’ll get the net.”
He flicked the rod up and water splashed. Then he reeled in the line, his excitement mounting as the fish on the end battled him.
“You’ve got it! Keep with him.” Stu stood next to him with a large fishing net. “Okay, ready? Raise the rod to get his head above the water, and I’ll scoop him in.”
Dylan followed his directions, and to his amazement, Stu raised the net high holding a big flopping fish.
“You did it, and on your first try. That there’s a beauty, too. Good work.” Stu’s grin spread from ear to ear, and his toothpick dangled out the side of his mouth as he worked to get the fish unhooked. “Brown trout. See the golden color? The black spots give it away. Hoo-boy, this must be eighteen inches. We’re frying him up tonight.”
As Dylan listened to Stu explain how they’d fillet the fish and cook it, a surge of appreciation filled him. Stu’s dad had taught him what he needed to know, and Stu was passing on the knowledge to him.
“Your father sounded like a good man, Stu.”
The rancher paused, his toothpick bobbing, then he nodded. “Every kid should have a father like mine.”
The peace of the blue sky and dancing river seeped in, and he began to see his father through a different lens. Dad had never taken the time to teach Dylan life skills or show him how to run the company, but Dylan hadn’t asserted himself, either. And he had never been passionate about oil and gas like Dad was. Maybe they’d both been at fault.
It was over. He had to start moving on with his life, not stay stuck in the past.
Dylan helped Stu gather the tackle box and gear. If he ever had a child, he wanted to be the kind of dad Stu’s father had been. “Thank you for teaching me today. In fact, thank you for everything.”
“Sure thing. Come on, let’s go have ourselves a fish fry.”
As they headed back, Dylan thought about Phoebe. Who would teach her how to fish? Would Gabby get married? If she did, what kind of man would raise Phoebe? If Gabby didn’t marry, would Phoebe learn everything she needed to know?
She should have a good father. One who would teach her things, one who would be there for her. One she could count on.
He wanted to be a man people could count on.
He wasn’t there yet, though. When was the last time anyone had been able to count on him? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care to think about it anymore. His fish was waiting.
* * *
She shouldn’t have invited him over. The next evening, Gabby, with Phoebe on her hip, escorted Dylan to her kitchen. His hands were full of takeout food from Roscoe’s Diner. He set everything on the kitchen counter.
It had been a long day at work. A long, boring day listening to Stella compare and contrast the good points of local cowboys Cash McCoy and Judd Wilson. Honestly, Gabby had strived to be patient at first, but it hadn’t taken long before she’d done everything in her power to avoid Stella’s mindless chatter. In the end, she’d given up and picked up her phone for a distraction. Dylan was the first person to come to mind. Hence, the invitation for him to come to her place for dinner. The fact he’d immediately offered to pick up burgers from Roscoe’s had made it worth it.
“This smells amazing.” She peeked into the bags. “Did you order fried pickles, too?”
“And onion rings. I’m starving.” He reached beyond her for the plates. His forearm extending in front of her reminded her all too well he was a strong guy. Her stomach flip-flopped. She blamed it on being hungry. Not on him and his muscles.
“Stu taught me how to fly-fish last night.” He sounded excited.
“Oh yeah? How’d you do?”
“I caught one. A big one.”
“Now you’ll be telling this tale until it becomes legendary.” She couldn’t believe she was teasing him. She’d known him less than a week. Letting down her guard already. Had she learned nothing from her past mistakes?
Oh, lighten up, already!
“It was a trout. A brown trout. And it was seventeen and a half inches long.” His eyes twinkled.
“Next time you tell it, it will have grown to twenty inches. In ten years, it will be thirty.”
“It’ll still be seventeen and a half.” He unwrapped the burgers and set them on two plates. Phoebe shifted in Gabby’s arms and held her arms out to him.
“Looks like she wants you.” Gabby was curious to see how he’d respond. The other night on their walk, she’d been surprised to see him holding Phoebe after she finished up in the restroom, especially since he hadn’t seemed very comfortable around the baby before.
“Come here.” He wiped his hands down his athletic shorts then took Phoebe from her. He lifted her smiling face above his and made silly faces at her. She squealed, kicking her legs. Then he brought her back down, holding her firmly against his side. The picture they presented sent a rush of longing through Gabby’s heart. She never let herself play the what-if game, but what if she had a husband, a partner to help raise the baby?
“I’ll bring the food over.” She took the plates full of burgers and sides to the table. He sat across from her. “Do you want ketchup or ranch dressing to dip?”
“Both. Why not?” He continued with the goofy faces as Gabby left the table to get the condiments. He really was good with the baby. But it didn’t change anything. And entertaining her wasn’t the same as taking care of her. She returned to the table with ketchup and ranch dressing.
“Here, I’ll put her in the high chair so you can eat.”
“Thanks.” His appreciative smile brought heat to her cheeks. Avoiding touching him, she quickly strapped Phoebe into her high chair and gave her a small handful of puff cereal. Then she sat back down.
“So how is everything going at Stu’s? I know he’s been shorthanded.” She took a bite of the burger. So good.
“It’s great. We finished moving cattle, and we’ve been checking calves, fixing fence and looking over the hayfields. I guess we’ll be baling next month. He’s hired a couple of teenagers to work for a few hours every morning, so that’s helping a lot.”
Next month? Was he planning on staying longer than his original month?
“Stu’s a nice man,” she said. “Keeps to himself, but he’s always willing to help when a neighbor’s in trouble.”
“He’s helped me more than he’ll ever know.” He bit into his burger and turned his attention to Phoebe.
What did that mean? He’d been working for Stu for a week. What could the man have possibly helped him with in such a short amount of time? She munched on an onion ring. Maybe the money. Had Dylan needed a job more than he’d let on?
A pit formed in her gut, and the onion ring suddenly tasted burnt. Was he smoothing the way to make her feel sorry for him so he could ask her for money?
Carl had done it so deftly, she hadn’t known what had hit her until she’d found herself loaning him money for his electric bill, his car repairs—whatever emergency cropped up on a regular basis—and always with the assurance he’d pay her back as soon as pos
sible.
She was still waiting. He’d never repaid her one red cent.
“What do you mean? How has he helped you?” She prepared herself for a sob story about his bills.
His face grew red. “My dad wasn’t the outdoors type, and Stu has been teaching me things I never knew how to do.”
Relief spilled through her as cool as a morning rain, and it was chased by shame. She had to stop thinking the worst about him. “Like what?”
“Well, fishing the other night, for one thing. And how calves like to hide in ditches. The warning signs of foot rot. Why he rotates the herd so often.”
“Is his ranch so different from the ones in Texas?” She glanced at Phoebe who had a piece of cereal stuck to the outside of her fist as she attempted to feed herself another piece.
He finished chewing and his forehead creased. “He’s different. He’s patient.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Stu was one of a kind.
“Has that guy, Nolan, been back at the inn?”
“Not yet. He’s coming Friday for a tour.”
“If he buys the place, how will it affect you?” He finished off the burger as he waited for her to answer.
“I’m not sure. Best-case scenario, I can continue my position as day manager. Worst case? He fires me to run it himself.”
“What would you do then?”
Her throat felt clogged all of a sudden. She hadn’t done any preparation for the worst-case scenario. If she began talking to the locals about job openings, everyone would assume she didn’t want to remain on as the manager—and she did. Very much. But if she didn’t find out who was hiring, she might be out of work in the event she did lose her job. It felt like a no-win situation.
“I have options.” She kept her voice firm, but inside she quaked. Did she have options? And if so, what were they?
“Are you worried about it?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“I can help...” His words trickled off as if he wished he wouldn’t have spoken up.
“I don’t need help.”
“I’d like to contribute financially. For Phoebe.”
“No, thank you.” She should be touched he offered, but she’d seen too much, been through too much, to take him seriously. “Money always complicates things.”
He blinked and averted those gorgeous brown eyes. His expression had been sincere, but he’d clearly thought better of the offer as soon as it was out of his mouth. He was probably relieved she wasn’t holding him to it.
Phoebe let out a series of loud noises and slapped her palms on the tray. Gabby was still finishing her final bites, but she moved to get her out of the high chair.
“Let me. Finish eating.” He rose, gesturing for her to stay seated. “Is it okay if I get her out and sit her on my lap?”
“You might want to wipe her hands first. There’s a box of baby wipes on the counter, or you can wet a washcloth.”
He took out a wipe from the container.
“Okay, Phoebe, I see you liked the cereal.” He gently wiped her hands, which she tried to keep out of his reach. She grunted in irritation. “But you liked it a little too much, so let’s get you cleaned up.”
Gabby couldn’t get over his patience. He talked in a low, soothing voice as he wiped her hands carefully. Then his face twisted in confusion. “How do I get her out?”
“Press the buttons under the tray.” She made a motion with both hands to demonstrate.
“Right.” It took him a few moments, but he got the tray off and soon freed Phoebe. As he sat back down with the baby on his lap, Gabby suppressed a longing sigh. She wished Phoebe had a daddy. A real daddy.
But she couldn’t let just anyone into her life—their lives. Only the best for her baby niece. Only the best would do.
Chapter Six
Friday evening as the sun grew hazy on the horizon, Dylan surveyed his cabin and groaned. He had to buy some supplies. New bedding, towels, more food, a coffeemaker—and a fan. Definitely a fan.
In Dallas, he’d spent the hot days in air-conditioning and had relied on restaurants and takeout for meals. Even when traveling he’d never worried about food because he could always order room service. But this week’s PB and Js were wearing thin, and all the physical labor was making him hungrier than ever. Earlier he’d driven into town after finishing up his ranch chores to pick up a pizza. He’d called Gabby to see if she wanted to share it, but she’d told him she had plans. He’d wanted to ask what plans and with whom, but he’d ended the call with a maybe another time and had been fighting a sense of dejection ever since.
This week had been incredible. His body was adjusting to riding a horse for hours at a time. His palms had grown callused and weren’t as tender as they’d been on Monday. Best of all, he’d been able to spend a few evenings with Phoebe and Gabby, and he was starting to feel comfortable with them, too.
But his conscience kept prodding him. Gabby worked hard to provide for herself and the baby. And now she was worried about losing her job. Shouldn’t he be getting the child support and trust fund in place for her? Take some of those burdens off her pretty shoulders?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he dialed Edward Brahm, his lawyer. Ed had been his dad’s lawyer as well as a close family friend. Dylan trusted him.
“Well, what do you know?” Ed’s voice boomed through the line. “You’re still alive after all. I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
“You might think I did when you hear where I’m at.” He’d always enjoyed bantering with Ed.
“Why? Where’d you land?”
“Wyoming. On a cattle ranch.”
“A cattle ranch? Did you buy one or something?”
“No, I’m working on one as a ranch hand. Temporarily.”
“A ranch hand?” He guffawed. “Now I’ve heard everything. You know all you have to do is call Steve if you’re having trouble accessing money.”
“Haha, funny.” Steve Zosar was Dylan’s financial advisor, not that he’d ever had trouble accessing his cash. “My money’s fine. I’m calling for a different reason. I found out Sam has a child.”
“A child? Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I am.” He crossed over to the window where the pastel colors of the sunset spread low in the sky. “I came out here to meet her. Her name’s Phoebe. She’s nine months old.”
“Hmm.” Ed took his time before continuing. “That doesn’t explain why you’re working on a cattle ranch.”
“It’s complicated, but I’m... Well, I’m happy.”
“Good. I know losing Sam and your dad was tough.” The teasing was replaced with his business tone. “What can I help you with? I’m assuming this isn’t just a friendly call.”
“You’re right, although, I will admit it’s good to hear your voice.” Dylan weighed what to say. Maybe he was looking for advice at this point. “I’d like to financially provide for the baby. Set up a trust fund. Monthly child support. That sort of thing.”
“Is there something you aren’t telling me? You sure this isn’t your kid?”
“If it was, I’d have claimed her already.” The thought of Phoebe being his own daughter quickened his pulse. It had been a long time since he’d considered being a family man. “How soon could you get something worked out? And what would be involved?”
“It depends. You’ll want to spell out precisely what you’re providing and the terms of the agreement. Needless to say, your father had his share of women troubles when it came to money, so I suggest extra prudence.”
“Yeah, I don’t need to be reminded.” Gabby’s smile came to mind, and her tell-it-like-it-is personality had already convinced him she’d never be like his mom or Robin. But one week wasn’t enough to know for sure, was it? He’d thought Robin was perfect until her true col
ors came out, and that had taken some time.
“First things first,” Ed said. “Are you sure the kid is your brother’s?”
“She’s got his eyes, Ed.”
A muffled grunt came through the line. “Do you have amounts in mind for the child support? And how do you want the trust fund set up?”
They went back and forth on the terms and amounts until Ed had no more questions.
“I’ll have my team work on these, and I’ll call you when they’re ready.”
“Don’t rush.” He hesitated. “I haven’t exactly told Gabby who I am or what I’m worth.”
“Good. It might be best if she doesn’t know at this point. Wait until the papers are drawn up. Then she won’t be able to use the knowledge to her advantage.”
“She’s not like that.”
There was a long pause.
“Look, Dylan, I know there are nice girls out there. But until you’re sure—and I mean really sure—you can trust her, don’t tell her about the money. It’s not like you two are dating or getting married and she needs to know. This is a unique situation.”
A unique situation. He couldn’t argue with that. But his heart kept prodding him about misleading her.
“Thanks, Ed. It’s good to hear your voice again.”
“Same here. Call me anytime. I’ll contact you when everything is ready.” He hung up, and Dylan stared at the blank screen for a moment.
Ed’s advice was good. It echoed his own thoughts since finding out the baby existed. But he hated lying to Gabby. She was big on truth and trust.
Was it so bad to let her believe he was a cowboy for hire? For a few more weeks?
If he told her now and she started fawning over him because she thought she could profit from it, he didn’t know if he could handle being disillusioned again. He couldn’t imagine her doing that, but what he could imagine was her reaction if he told her he’d inherited a fortune. She made no secret of the fact she didn’t think much of guys who lived off their daddy’s money.
