by Rita Herron
But his chest clenched when he looked into Lucy’s big green eyes.
Pale green eyes that looked just like his own.
He staggered back, shock bolting through him as the truth hit him.
Lucy wasn’t Carter’s little girl.
She was his.
Chapter Three
The truth echoed in Brandon’s head over and over as if he’d been sucker punched.
Lucy was his.... Lucy was his.... He had a daughter....
A daughter he’d never known about.
Because Kim had kept it from him.
The anguish and rage hit him so hard that Brandon staggered backward, then gripped the sofa edge to keep from reaching for Kim and shaking her. How could she have done this to him?
For years he’d forced himself to accept the fact that he’d never have a family. Never have a son or daughter of his own because he was too afraid he’d pass on that horrific genetic disorder. Krabbe’s Leukodystrophy, the doctor called it. The bone marrow transplant had miraculously given her a few extra years, but she had still suffered.
And for four years now, he’d had a living, breathing little girl who was his blood kin. A normal child.
One he’d made with Kim.
A child he would have loved and spoiled and been there for if only Kim had let him.
Bitterness filled him, and he fisted his hands by his sides, his body trembling with the effort to control his anger.
Kim cradled Lucy to her as if she sensed that rage, as if she feared he was going to snatch her away. But her eyes also flashed with resignation as if she’d known this moment would eventually come and had dreaded it.
“Brandon—”
Their gazes locked, the air vibrating with the cloying scent of lies. “She’s m—”
Kim cut him off with a choked whisper. “Yes.”
That one word ripped a hole in his heart. “How could you?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Why?”
“You… We…” She nodded toward Lucy, her voice quavering. “This is not the time to discuss it, Brandon.”
Dammit, it sure as hell was time to discuss it. It was past time. Fury surged through him, more powerful than he’d ever felt. He wanted to shout at Kim and demand to know how she could have left him in the dark about his own child.
He wanted to pull Lucy into his arms and hug her and make up for lost time.
But Lucy clawed at her mother in fear, and he forced himself to temper his reaction.
Still, his heart was pounding, and he had to clear his throat twice to make it work. “You kept this from me all these years and now you don’t want to talk about it?”
Even though he’d tried, his voice still sounded harsh and loud in the hollow silence, and Lucy whipped her little head around, her eyes startled, scared.
His gut tightened with remorse. The poor little girl, his little girl, had been terrified of an intruder, and now he was adding to her fears.
He took a step forward, aching to drag her in his arms and hold her, to assure her that he would never hurt her. That he hadn’t been around the past four years because he hadn’t known she was his. That he would love her and take care of her and tuck her into bed at night and teach her to ride, and be the father he should have been all along.
If Kim hadn’t deprived him of it.
Images of the years he’d missed crawled through his mind, a blinding haze of pictures of Lucy. Lucy as a newborn swaddled in a pink blanket, her first laugh, the day she’d learned to crawl, her first step, then birthdays and Christmases—all memories Kim had that he’d missed.
God, what had she told Lucy about him?
“Mommy?” Lucy said in a frightened whisper.
Kim held her daughter tight, gently rocking Lucy in her arms. “It’s okay, sugar. This is Johnny’s friend Brandon. Remember, you watched him do trick riding at the rodeo and wanted to learn to ride like him?”
Lucy nodded, but her wide-eyed look made Brandon feel like the worst kind of heel.
And resurrected memories of how terrified his own sister had been of their father.
He’d sworn that if he ever had a child, a family, they would never be afraid of him.
But Lucy was.
Nausea gripped him, and he tore himself away and strode out onto the front porch. Aching inside and calling himself a hundred kinds of a fool, he leaned against the porch rail and dragged in the fresh air, desperate to stem the bile clogging his throat.
Was that the reason Kim had kept Lucy from him? Had she feared he’d be violent like his old man?
He closed his eyes, the image of Kim’s tears the day he’d broken up with her haunting him. He’d loved her but decided he could learn to love Marty. Marty was his ticket to the big time, to raising himself from trailer trash to a respected ranch hand to eventually owning his own spread. He’d been stupid and chosen wrong because he thought Marty would give him his future.
But in the end, he had been the one to lose.
His future had been with Kim and the child she’d been carrying. Only he hadn’t known it.
Her words taunted him. “This is Brandon, Uncle Johnny’s friend.”
Hell, he was way more than Uncle Johnny’s friend.
He was Lucy’s daddy. And now he knew about her, he would be a father to her.
Even if he had to fight Kim to do so.
KIM SANK ONTO THE SOFA hugging Lucy to her. She hated the devastation she’d seen in Brandon’s eyes. Pain she’d put there by her lies.
But he had left her and married another woman. And she had tried to tell him about Lucy, but…
“Mommy?” Lucy murmured. “I’m sweepy.”
Lucy’s words jerked her back to the reality of the night and the break-in. She needed to put Lucy back to bed. They both needed rest.
She listened for Brandon’s car engine and expected him to peel away in a fit of anger, but didn’t hear it. Instead her own breathing rattled, fraught with emotions.
How would she sleep tonight knowing someone had been inside the cabin? That it might or might not have been Carter?
Worse, how would Carter react if he thought Lucy was his child, showed up expecting to see her and discovered she wasn’t?
Not that she’d ever given him any reason to believe Lucy was his daughter. In fact, after their last confrontation when she’d visited him in prison, she hadn’t had any communication with him.
But if he’d seen their picture in the paper like Johnny said, he could have jumped to conclusions.
Suddenly footsteps pounded the porch, and Brandon reappeared at the door. Lucy’s head shot up again, and she dug her nails into Kim’s shoulders. Kim tried to stifle her own tremor as Brandon’s bitter look pierced her.
“I need to put Lucy back to bed,” Kim said. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying here,” Brandon said, his jaw clenched. “Pack a bag for you and Lucy. You’re both coming to my ranch.”
Kim’s lungs begged for a breath. The last place she wanted to be was at his house.
“We’ll be fine here,” Kim said. “Please, Brandon—”
Brandon strode past her into her bedroom and Kim followed. When he opened her closet door, she stepped in front of him. “Brandon—”
Lucy made a whimpering sound, and Brandon looked tormented as he lifted a hand and gently patted her back.
“It’s okay, Lucy,” Brandon said in a low, soothing tone. “I just want to keep you and your mother safe.”
“But you’re mad at Mommy,” Lucy said, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t wants to go if you’re mad and gonna yell.”
Brandon sucked air through his teeth, and Kim knew she had to do something to diffuse the situation. Brandon was stubborn, but he’d bent over backward to take care of his younger sister. He’d fended off bullies, taken beatings from their father to protect her, even fed her when she was sick.
He would want to get to know Lucy now.
How could she deny him his own little gir
l? Even though he’d broken her heart, he was a good, honorable, hardworking man. Now he’d made his wealth, he’d joined Johnny and Brody Bloodworth and several other wealthy ranchers to create the Bucking Bronc Lodge and help troubled kids.
And he was Lucy’s father.
She didn’t want her daughter to be frightened of him.
Besides, earlier, hadn’t she worried about how much Lucy was going to miss Johnny, how much she’d missed by not having a father around?
Kim rubbed circles on Lucy’s back. “You know how Uncle Johnny’s voice gets loud sometimes when he’s worried?”
Lucy nodded, a lock of her dark red hair falling across one damp cheek.
“Well, Brandon is just worried about us now. He wants us to spend the night with him so he can make sure that man who broke in doesn’t come back.” Although for all she knew Carter might show up at Brandon’s.
But at least they would be able to deal with him together.
Maybe going with him was the wise thing to do.
She would just have to keep up her guard. If Brandon wanted to know why he’d missed the first four years of his daughter’s life, she’d tell him the truth.
He had made that choice, not her. Now he’d have to live with it.
THE NEED TO HOLD LUCY was so strong that it nearly overpowered Brandon. But he forced himself to summon every ounce of restraint he possessed and simply watch as Kim deposited Lucy onto her bed and began to pack.
Lucy cradled her stuffed lamb to her like a lifeline, and memories flooded him. When his sister Joanie had been ill or had nightmares, he’d rocked her to sleep. And when she’d grown into a preteen and it seemed inappropriate for him to cradle her in his lap, he’d sat by her bed and read to her and told her stories about riding and adventures they would take one day.
Each day though, he’d seen her grow physically weaker and more mentally impaired until finally he’d been forced to seek help. Without the money to pay for private care, he’d had to send her to a group home.
Leaving her there had damn near killed him.
He’d vowed one day to make enough money to bring her home and hire a nurse, one of the main reasons he’d married Marty Canterberry. But Joanie had died before he’d earned enough money to fulfill his promise.
And now he had all the money he needed, but an empty house and an empty life.
Except for the boys at the BBL.
You have a little girl.
A beautiful little girl with Kim’s striking dark red hair and his green eyes. A little girl with crooked teeth and dimples and freckles—a perfect child.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe again. Instead, he said a silent prayer of thanks to God. Why He’d given Brandon this chance to be a father when the odds had been stacked against him he didn’t know.
But he’d damn well do everything in his power to make the good Lord proud.
Kim fastened her suitcase, then rubbed a hand across Lucy’s hair. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, her heart-shaped face angelic.
“I’m going to pack you a bag now, honey. You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Lucy nodded, and Brandon felt as if Kim had given him a small gift by trusting him with their daughter while she packed.
“You’re really Uncle Johnny’s friend?” Lucy asked in a tiny whisper.
Brandon eased closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to startle her. “Yes, I grew up with your uncle and your mom. We all played together when we were kids. We even built a fort and called it our secret meeting place.”
Her eyes perked up with interest. “I wants a fort.”
Brandon blinked back emotions. Was Lucy a tomboy like Kim had been? “Tell you what, sweetie, we’ll build you one at my ranch. I’ll even let you pick out the spot. How does that sound?”
He tweaked her nose, and an excited smile curved her rosebud of a mouth.
“Good.” Lucy sighed sleepily.
Brandon soaked in the moment, memorizing the details of her face. Tiny freckles dotted her pug nose, and her long auburn lashes curled against her baby-soft skin. She had a quirky little mouth like Kim, and a defiant stubborn chin like his.
“You got horses?” Lucy asked on a yawn.
“Yes, ma’am, I sure do,” Brandon said. “Maybe you can sleep in the car on the way, and in the morning I’ll show you around and you can pick out which horse you want to be your own.” He patted her foot. “Would you like that?”
She bobbed her head up and down. “Uh-huh…” Her voice faded as her eyes drifted closed.
But he could have sworn the smile stayed tucked in place, as if she was dreaming about an Appaloosa or palomino and the fort they would build.
He filed the moment away in his mind to treasure forever. One of the first memories in a lifetime of endless ones to come, he hoped.
Kim returned a second later with a small pink rolling bag and a backpack in the shape of a bunny rabbit and set them on top of her suitcase. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
Her wary expression infuriated him, but he tempered his tone. “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, Kim. Keeping Lucy safe is my job now, and I’m not going to let her down.”
Anguish flickered in her eyes and something akin to fear followed, but he didn’t take time to analyze it. He yanked up both suitcases to carry to his SUV. “I’ll be back to get Lucy.”
“No, I’ll carry her.” Kim leaned over to pick up her daughter, but Brandon caught her arm.
“You may not think much of me, Kim. And God knows, my old man was vile. But I’m not like him. I would never hurt Lucy.”
Her stunned eyes met his, the wariness dissipating. “I…know that, Brandon.”
His throat thickened, making his voice sound like he’d swallowed gravel. “That’s not the reason you kept her from me?”
She shook her head. “God, no.... I…would never think that.”
For a second, he couldn’t speak. It was as if they had stepped back in time to a moment when she trusted him and he trusted her, and their love had sparked to life.
Then he looked down at Lucy again and an image of her as a baby taunted him, hammering home the reality of the years he’d missed, and anger surged through him again.
Exhaustion lined Kim’s face as she leaned over to scoop up Lucy, and concern for her and the ordeal she’d been through tonight suffused him. They needed to get on the road so she and Lucy could rest.
So he relented and carried the suitcases to his SUV, then opened the back door for Kim to settle Lucy in the back. Kim secured the seat belt. Then he returned to the cabin and grabbed a couple of pillows to make Lucy’s ride more comfortable while Kim retrieved her purse and phone.
Kim settled into the front seat without saying a word, and he cranked the engine and headed down the drive away from the ranch. He was desperate for a confrontation, but bit his tongue.
They would have heated words, and he didn’t intend to become his father and subject Lucy to his wrath. He didn’t want to scare her again.
He punched in the sheriff’s number before they made the turn-off onto the main road from the Bucking Bronc Lodge toward San Antonio.
“Sheriff, it’s Brandon Woodstock. Kim Long and her daughter are going to my ranch until you find the person who broke in.”
“Fine. You heard from your buddy Carter?”
“No,” Brandon said. “But I’ll let you know if I do.”
When he disconnected, Kim was watching him with that wary look again.
“I need to call Johnny and tell him where we are.”
He slanted her a dark look. “Johnny knows about Lucy?”
Kim twisted her hands together, then gave a slow nod. “Brandon—”
“Don’t,” he said sharply. Pain knifed through him again. Betrayal at its worst. The two people he’d loved more than his own life had both lied to him for years. “There’s nothing you can say that will make what the two of you did to me right.”
Then
he shut down. He’d had more emotional upheaval today than he’d had in years. The weight of it was choking him. Part of him wanted to roll up and die.
But then Lucy shifted in the backseat, and he saw her tiny reflection in the rearview mirror, and for the first time in years, he realized he had something important to live for. Someone more important than himself or his goals.
He had a little girl.
Love mushroomed inside him, filling him with a kind of deep-seated joy that he’d never experienced.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Kim’s troubled expression, but he couldn’t reach out to her or forgive her, so he let the silence between them fall.
By the time they’d passed through San Antonio and sped down the long deserted stretch of country road leading to his ranch, fatigue had claimed Kim and she’d fallen asleep. Occasionally he noticed a few cars passing, one behind him in the distance, then a trucker on a late run.
But a few more miles down the road, as the scrub brush, cacti and pastureland took over and the houses and buildings of San Antonio faded into the dust, he noticed headlights behind him. Distant hills outlined the horizon, the sky an inky well with a quarter moon sitting low over the tops of the mesquite and juniper trees.
The sound of an engine speeding up broke the silence. Then tires squealed and he tensed as he realized the vehicle was bearing down on him. Was it a cop?
He checked his speedometer. He hadn’t been speeding. And it was the middle of the night. Maybe the cop was on his way to an accident somewhere, but there were no blue lights or a siren.
Then suddenly the vehicle shot forward, gaining on him fast.
Brandon frowned. Was it Carter? Could he have stolen a truck and followed them from Kim’s?
He accelerated and rounded a curve, careful to keep the SUV on the road. He had precious cargo inside.
But the truck raced forward, swerving left, then right, then zoomed up beside him and skimmed his side just as he neared the ravine. Sparks flew from the guardrail and his truck. Gripping the steering wheel to keep the SUV on the road, he lifted his foot off the gas, hoping the truck would pass. Instead, the driver suddenly swerved a hard right toward him and rammed his side.
