Texas Dad (Fatherhood)

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Zoey, some teen girls go overboard with makeup and inappropriate clothes, trying to look older.” She placed the repaired cake in the fridge. Turning, J.J. noticed the girl’s crestfallen expression. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with looking fashionable, but not overdoing it. Maybe we can pick up a couple of teen magazines and find some outfits that would suit you and Brandy.”

  “Can we?” Zoey perked up. But the girl talk was cut short when the back door opened and the men tromped in.

  “Zoey, I’ll set the hot food on the table if you’ll get the salad. Then I need to go help Erma.”

  Zoey dashed off, darting around her father, who said, “What’s with the candles on the table? We haven’t had a power outage.”

  “It’s ambience, Daddy,” Zoey said, brushing past him with the salad. “You’d better sit down. J.J.’s bringing the potatoes and meat loaf. And she has a surprise for dessert.”

  “A surprise? Where’s Erma? Everything smells great, so I guess she’s up to supervising.”

  J.J. transferred the baked potatoes to a basket and passed it across the island to Mack. “Here, make yourself useful as well as decorative.”

  That brought a ripple of laughter from the cowboys and Benny, who’d seated themselves at the trestle table. Even Mack snorted and smiled.

  J.J. carried in first one pan of meat loaf and set it on a hot pad. Then she brought the second and took off her oven mitts. “Dig in. I’ll go get Erma.” She put a carving knife beside the dish closest to Eldon, one of the ranch hands. The meat loaf looked crustier than the picture in the recipe book, but, oh, well.

  J.J. rushed into Erma’s room in time to see the older woman trying to slide off the bed into the wheelchair. “Hold on, Erma, what are you doing? If you’re going to try to get into the wheelchair, you need to push these levers first so it won’t roll out from under you.”

  “I’ve always done for myself. I hate being laid up.”

  “I understand,” J.J. said gently, “but we all need care occasionally. I see you managed to get your robe off the bedpost and put it on.”

  “I did, even though it hurt like the dickens.”

  J.J. straightened Erma’s robe and helped her into the now-steady chair. “Do you need the bathroom before we go to the table?”

  “Nope. Whatever you fixed smells delicious, but I’m afraid I’m not very hungry. Still, it’s not often I get treated to a meal I didn’t have to cook. Much as I nag Mackenzie to find a wife who’ll share cooking and other household chores, he ignores me. Maybe now that you’re back...”

  J.J. broke in. “Not happening, Erma. I have a job on the other side of the country.”

  “Hmph. Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  As she wheeled Erma to the table, J.J. was aware that everyone suddenly fell silent, and the men all glanced down at their meals. Instead of slices of meat loaf, there were dark, unappetizing clumps on their plates.

  “If nobody else is gonna tell Jill this meat’s so dry we can’t swallow it without ketchup, I will,” Benny said, waving his fork. “Where’s the ketchup?”

  Aghast, J.J. left Erma at the table and she ran to get the large bottle of ketchup she’d seen in the fridge. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, giving the bottle to Benny. “I’ve never made a meat loaf. There were two different recipes in Erma’s books, and...” She broke off and sat down. With a pointed stare at Mack, she unfurled her napkin and said, “Since I hobnob with skinny models, you’re all lucky I didn’t serve you plain salad without dressing, or steamed tofu.” Mack and Benny both had the grace to look guilty.

  Then Mack’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he laughed. “I deserve that, Jill. I thought you were out of hearing range when I made that comment to Benny. It was uncalled for and I’m sorry. And this meal is fine, considering the guys and I will be eating cold beans and dry biscuits for the next couple of days while we move the herd.”

  “Dang right, so pass the ketchup,” Trevor said, after which the men’s talk turned to the gear they’d need to assemble for the trail drive.

  The food disappeared and Erma began to nod off. Jerking awake, she cleared her throat. “Save the cow talk until after dessert. I want some of Jill’s cake before I head back to bed.”

  “You baked a cake?” Mack sounded pleased.

  Sliding out of her chair, J.J. said, “Mack, you pour coffee all around. Zoey, I’ll cut the cake if you’ll carry the slices from the kitchen.”

  The girl jumped up at once. Jill cut generous slices of cake, taking care to spoon berries and cream over the ragged inner edges.

  “Chocolate,” Mack exclaimed. “Erma, did you tell her that was my favorite?”

  “I didn’t tell her anything. I intended to get up and oversee things, but I’m afraid those painkillers left poor Jill and Zoey on their own.”

  This time when Mack looked at Jill, his smile glowed warmly.

  She nodded to his daughter. “Zoey deserves more than half the credit. Without her valuable input I would’ve been sunk. My meat loaf wasn’t the only disaster. This two-in-one dessert is because―”

  “Shh.” Zoey waved a hand in front of J.J.’s face. “The way you fixed it, nobody has to know.”

  “Now they really have to know,” J.J. said, looping her arm over Zoey’s shoulders. “A can of soup fell out of the cupboard and dive-bombed dead center in my freshly frosted cake.”

  After his first bite, Mack said, “I agree with Zoey, you didn’t need to tell us. It tastes great.”

  Erma motioned J.J. and Zoey back to the table. “The number-one cook’s rule―what happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.”

  Everyone laughed at that, and J.J. finally felt her stomach relax. Until the men finished and trooped out, and Erma asked to go back to her room and Zoey bounded past saying, “I need to call Brandy.”

  J.J. settled Erma. She wrote her cell number on a piece of paper and tucked it beneath Erma’s bedside phone. “I’m in the room directly across the patio. If you need me for anything at all during the night, holler out and I’ll be there.”

  The older woman squeezed J.J.’s hand. “Say all you want that your place is in New York. Tonight this family felt whole for the first time in years. Mackenzie and Zoey felt it, too. Yessireebob.” Smiling softly, Erma sank down on her pillow.

  The very idea sent squiggles of tension through J.J. As she returned to an empty kitchen and faced cleanup alone, Erma’s words stoked old yearnings J.J. tried to deny. Ignoring the melancholy feelings, she dived in, rinsed plates, stored a few leftovers and fed what remained of the very dry meat loaf to Jiggs. The dog lapped it up without ketchup or complaint.

  It was after nine by the time she set the last pan in the dishwasher. The house had grown quiet. J.J. assumed Zoey had a nightly routine. Mack, she supposed, subscribed to the early-to-bed-early-to-rise custom of most ranchers. For someone who still ought to be on East Coast time, she wasn’t sleepy. She recalled seeing a bottle of white wine in the fridge. Getting out a glass, she poured some and retired to her room.

  J.J. wandered to the open French doors, where the balmy night drew her onto the patio. A few small lanterns around the perimeter of the swimming pool added to the burnished glow from a golden moon. The faint light outlined a lawn swing that beckoned her. Sitting, she started it swinging, then tucked her legs up on the seat. J.J. sipped her wine as she searched for constellations in the star-studded night sky that she rarely saw in New York.

  The sound of footsteps on the flagstones caused her to jump, almost spilling her wine.

  “Sit,” Mack said. “I saw you from my room.” He pointed to another door that opened onto the pool. “I wanted to apologize.”

  J.J.’s heart sped up and her breath caught in her throat as Mack came closer. Was he finally going to tell her he was sorry for the shabby way he and Fai
th had treated her? Her fingers tightened around the cool glass. She was ready to hear it and act magnanimous.

  “I do my best to set a good example for Zoey. Today when I criticized you to Benny for no reason I wasn’t a good role model. So, forgive me, Jilly.”

  It took her a moment to realize she and Mack were on different wavelengths. “You already said you were sorry at supper. Anyway, it was no big deal.”

  “Tonight you cooked, entertained Zoey and looked after Erma. I’m grateful.”

  She wrapped her free arm around her waist. J.J. didn’t want Mack seeing any sign of nerves. “I feel bad for Erma. For all of you.”

  He reached out as if to touch her, then dropped his hand. “I think I’m still in shock from seeing you in town, and then working in my kitchen. You haven’t changed.” His voice fell to a husky whisper. “It’s as if those years since college didn’t happen.” He moved closer and J.J. felt each word travel up her spine as she set her wine glass on the wooden arm of the swing. She loosened her other hand from around her waist and held it out to maintain a distance, but it was too late. Her hand collided with his chest, her icy fingers welcoming the warmth.

  “Jilly...” Mack bent his head.

  Her brain screamed a warning, telling her to retreat. But she was held prisoner by his smoky gaze. She licked her lips and tasted the oak from the chardonnay. Then he crushed her against his hard lean body and kissed her, and kissed her and kept kissing her until Mack was all she tasted.

  Her arms―in fact, her entire body―went pliant.

  Only after Mack tightened his hold on her waist and abruptly stepped away from her did J.J. realize her glass had tipped over, spilling the wine onto the swing. Her pleasure diminished when she saw the pain and regret in Mack’s eyes, at odds with his unfair accusation when he said, “Stop. Stop being so tempting, dammit!” He frowned and added, “You can’t turn back the clock. Don’t even try, Jill.” Wheeling, he strode toward the open door.

  “Me?” she sputtered. “You kissed me, you jerk!”

  His door slammed shut and sent a jolt to her toes. She lost track of how long she stood in a puddle of moonlight before she collected her empty glass, listening to crickets chirp—three fingers pressed against her lips as she tried desperately to hang on to Mack’s kiss.

  Chapter Five

  Mack sat on his bed and cradled his head in his hands. Kissing Jill had been stupid, stupid, stupid. Seeing her on his patio in the moonlight had made the years dissolve. Once, their love had been strong. Her abrupt departure had stunted his capacity to trust—trust his ability to make sound judgments when it came to love and women. He should have refused when Erma wanted her to stay. From the moment he saw her at that table in the library, his life had teetered like a seesaw.

  Maybe Erma had been right. Maybe he needed a woman in his bed—in his life. But not Jill. Her very presence sparked too many painful memories. It was a good thing he was leaving early in the morning. It’d give him a couple of days to get his head on straight enough that he could be in the same room as Jill without fighting the urge to kiss her.

  * * *

  THE REST OF the night proved to be restless for J.J. Afraid she would miss hearing Erma should she call, or not call because she didn’t want to be a bother, J.J. tiptoed into the housekeeper’s room at midnight and again at 2:00 a.m. Both times she found Erma sleeping without a twitch. J.J. was glad to see she was breathing regularly and showed no signs of pain. Regardless, each time she returned to her room J.J. tossed and turned or stared at the ceiling, wide-awake— reliving that sizzling kiss.

  Shortly before four she managed to drift off but awoke to a strident buzzing that seemed to come from outside. Distantly she heard Erma calling her. Because she hadn’t fully undressed for bed J.J. simply yanked on her boots and raced across the patio. Her heart hammered. What if Erma had fallen again?

  “My alarm is going off and I can’t reach it.” Erma waved an arm toward a nightstand on the other side of her bed. It was still dark outside, and she’d switched on a bedside lamp.

  J.J. hit a few buttons on the clock before one finally silenced the noise.

  Erma attempted to sit up. “It’s time I started breakfast for Mack and the hands.” She’d barely finished her statement than she fell back on the pillow with a groan. “Those danged pills are messing with my old bones. The doctor said to take the pills exactly as directed on the bottle. All they do is make me worthless.”

  J.J. eased Erma into a sitting position. “Does this hurt?”

  Erma nodded. “Maybe not as much as yesterday. Will you help me hop into the bathroom?”

  “Hopping will jar your hip. The wheelchair’s at the end of your bed. Let me wheel you in. I’ll dampen a washcloth with warm water and get you a towel, then go start coffee before I come back for you. A sponge bath should help you feel more human. Mack said the doctor wants you to rest, but I wonder if those pills are too potent. After breakfast let’s call and ask if you can reduce the dose.”

  Erma nodded. She slid out of bed and stood on her good leg, but the minute she touched her right foot to the floor, her leg buckled and she cried out in pain.

  J.J. grabbed her and braced her so she didn’t fall, then moved the wheelchair into place.

  “What kind of pain pills only work when I lie down?” Erma complained.

  “Injured muscle and bones don’t heal overnight.” J.J. got the older woman into the chair and wheeled her into the bath. “Are you steady enough for me to leave you alone for a few minutes?” she asked after she wet a washcloth.

  Erma made shooing motions with the hand not holding the cloth she’d accepted. “Did I dream it, or did Mack say they’re trailing the herd to Monument Draw today? If so, he and the men need a hearty breakfast, plus extra biscuits to take along. And canned beans.”

  “According to Zoey the men eat a lot of eggs every morning. I hope they like them scrambled, because mine always turn out that way.”

  “That crew scarfs ’em down any way I cook ’em. Benny and Eldon pour an inch of salsa over everything on their plates, anyway.” Erma snickered. J.J. responded with a smile, feeling better about leaving Erma to her own devices while she went to brew coffee.

  J.J. shuffled into the kitchen. Thankfully she remembered where the coffee was stored. Feeling sluggish after her own sketchy sleep, she made the coffee stronger than the previous evening’s.

  Yawning, she emptied the dishwasher and quickly set the table. The smell of fresh coffee made her mouth water. She turned from the table to pour a cup for herself and Erma, and ran right into Mack, who was backing out of the pantry. He held two loaves of store-bought bread in one hand. The other he put out to steady J.J.

  She blinked, partly from the force of the impact, partly due to how he looked. Today he wore snug, scruffy blue jeans rucked up over black, square-toed boots. His blue shirt hung open, giving her a peek at his suntanned chest. J.J. swallowed. Mack hadn’t shaved and the rough-hewn cowboy look had never been more appealing. Trying to calm her racing heart, she couldn’t help hoping his unkempt appearance was because he’d spent as sleepless a night as she had after their kiss.

  “What are you doing up so early? I figured you’d sleep in.”

  “Why? Because someone kept me up late...hmm?”

  “Uh, Jill, about last night...” Looking abashed, Mack cleared his throat.

  Still stung from the way he’d hightailed it after kissing her the way he had, J.J. hunched, and stepped around him. “Last night was moon madness. Forget it, Mack. I have.”

  Seeming relieved, he surveyed the kitchen. “Where’s Erma?”

  “In the bathroom. Her alarm woke us both at four.” Taking two ceramic mugs off the counter, J.J. stopped by the percolating coffeemaker. “I’ll bring some coffee to her and see if that chases away her cobwebs. Those pain pills wipe her out. Out
of curiosity...what are you doing with the bread? Erma said you’d want eggs and biscuits, with extra to take on your trip.”

  “I thought we’d have toast and eggs. Unless you’re offering to whip up biscuits?” he said with a hopeful lilt.

  “You mean biscuits that aren’t as dry as my meat loaf?” J.J. couldn’t help her cutting tone. Even if incompetent was the last way she wanted him to think of her.

  Mack watched Jill pour liberal amounts of cream and sugar in her coffee. It made him smile in spite of himself. Really, very little seemed to have changed about Jill—except she’d grown even prettier. As she rested the spoon on the counter and picked up both mugs, he was struck by how right it felt to see her in his kitchen. But sudden anguish washed over him. Again he wondered why she’d taken off all those years ago with no explanation. The last time they had spoken, he’d dropped out of college to run the ranch, and he’d assumed they’d make a life together. Was this current show of compassion all for her magazine?

  He still hadn’t read what Zoey had written about him. He thought about her babbling outside the library. What had she said about getting picked? That someone—a woman—would deliver a check for his charity? And she kept mentioning a date. That part ran together with someone saying she looked like a boy. Mack frowned, unable to connect that. With Zoey’s button nose, scattered freckles and pretty rust-colored braids, she looked like a girl to him.

  “Jill,” he blurted, catching her a moment before she headed back to Erma’s room, “How does Zoey strike you?”

  His question stopped her. “From the little time I spent with her, she seems like a sweet, polite kid. Why?”

  “No special reason. It used to be that whenever she wasn’t at school she was my shadow.” A smile briefly played across his lips. “This past year she’s shown less interest in what’s happening around the ranch. She mopes around inside a lot.”

  J.J. juggled the hot mugs and debated how much to involve herself in Mack’s and his daughter’s lives. She considered saying nothing, but would he have asked her advice if he wasn’t bewildered? And her being here had come about because Zoey was concerned for her dad’s happiness, and her own future. J.J. decided to offer an opinion. “Mack, Zoey’s almost a teen. For a girl, that transition’s comparable to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.”