The Cowboy's Homecoming Surprise (Fly Creek)

by Jennifer Hoopes

  “I want. To see. My daughter.”

  She held her hands out in front of her. “I’m not keeping her from you. You literally cannot see her right now. She’s away at wilderness camp. I dropped her off yesterday. She’s staying in a cabin and…” She was babbling. Something she didn’t recall ever doing in her entire life. Peyton was methodical, always knowing where every word, statement, and foot should be placed.

  “When does she get back?” Some of the tension seeped out of him. His shoulders drooped as his stance took on a less combative tone. But he was still on edge and one step away from emotional implosion.

  “She gets back on Friday.”

  “I expect to see her then.” Ryder walked past and flung open her door. She listened as his heavy boots thudded down her porch steps. Each boom reverberating through her chest straight to her heart. She stood rooted until the peel of his tires had her turning and shutting her door. Then she laid her forehead against the wood and muttered, “What the heck just happened?”

  …

  Ryder turned and drove through the iron arches of Sky Lake Ranch. He couldn’t recall any of the trip from Peyton’s house. Hell, he could barely recall the last twenty-four hours. But what he could recall was her, standing there as if she wasn’t about to alter his entire world. His life, both future and past, with four words.

  That’s Melanie. Your daughter.

  Peyton had remained stoic, statuesque even, as he started a slow meltdown of conflicting emotions.

  He shut off the engine and glanced down at the bench seat. His daughter’s face smiled up at him. Mischievousness and intelligence and a healthy dose of confidence shone out of those chocolate eyes and pride swelled his chest even as pain settled around his heart. Ryder hadn’t planned to take the picture, but now that he had, he wouldn’t be returning it.

  He had a daughter.

  With Peyton.

  For ten years, his daughter had been on this earth. Laughing, smiling, growing in front of Peyton’s eyes, but not his. For ten years, his daughter hadn’t known the love of her father. And he loved her. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t even met her. He didn’t even know her middle name or hell, even her birthday, but he loved her more than life itself.

  And she had lost a decade of knowing that love.

  Pain shot through his chest and he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. How could no one have ever told him?

  Because you made it impossible.

  The truth punched his gut, taking away his breath. He had made it next to impossible. Writing only letters, never calling. Leaving as little a paper trail as possible and in some cases, never. The wilds of Alaska and logging made that very easy, especially in the early years.

  Was this his punishment? His punishment for leaving her. Leaving Sky Lake. For staying gone as long as he had. He punched the steering wheel. Well, if so, it was a hell of a punishment.

  Ryder grabbed the picture frame and jumped out of his truck. Slamming the door, he headed for the side of the lodge and his parents’ house, only remembering after two steps that they didn’t live there anymore. Swearing, he reversed course and climbed back into his truck.

  Did his parents know about Melanie?

  Of course they knew. That was why Peyton was so close to them, he realized. They knew about their granddaughter. He would bet they’d been active participants in her life since the day she was born. Ryder swore at length as he pounded his fists against the dashboard.

  It isn’t fair.

  While he’d been gone, his daughter had been right here. Growing up, laughing, exploring, being loved, and he hadn’t had a single moment to share in that.

  But Peyton had.

  And so had his mom and dad.

  Just thinking about all the love his father might have lavished on his daughter had Ryder gripping the steering wheel for dear life. His father, who had never shown that kind of affection to Ryder, and yet he knew. He knew so deep down that nothing could shake it that Mitchum Marks had spoiled Melanie rotten.

  That was his job. Only he hadn’t been given the chance, and the fault was his and, by extension, his own father’s as well. Mitchum had welcomed him after ten years with a snarl and a wish that he leave as soon as possible.

  There was no way he could have the words and discussion he needed to have with Peyton right now, but his parents, or rather, his mother? That was something he could handle. It was a Saturday in September so she most likely would be at the lodge dealing with the arrivals and departures. Probably not the best place for him to confront her about Melanie, but he wasn’t wasting one more minute.

  But within moments of stepping foot into the chaos of arrivals, he discovered she was nowhere to be found. A five-minute drive through the ranch checking at the barns and paddocks showed not one sign of her dually or her preferred fringed shirt. That left their house.

  Three minutes later, he pulled up in front of the two-story stone structure. He strode up the massive front steps and went to open the door only to find it locked. He remembered his mom handing him a key last night before she left to meet his dad, and he fished his key ring out, looking for the right one. Once inside the open floor house, he crossed to the alarm panel to silence the beeping countdown. Thankfully he’d paid enough attention to his mother when she’d given him the code. Alarm disabled, he stood in the eerie silence that greeted him. If the alarm was set, his parents weren’t here.

  He walked into the kitchen, his eyes going to the phone hanging on the wall. Who knew a drunken phone call last night would lead him to this moment. To his whole world shifting foundation. It wasn’t just him anymore. It was another human being. And no one—not Peyton, his parents, or anyone else—would keep him from trying to make up for all those lost years.

  On the fridge, Ryder noticed a large manila envelope hanging from it with his name scrawled in black marker. He unhooked it from the clip and lifted the flap, sliding out a piece of paper. He felt something heavy in the bottom and saw another set of keys and a garage door opener.

  Ryder,

  I hate to have to say so many things on paper, but as you never returned home last night, I really have no choice. First, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you back home, and I hope that you won’t leave before your father and I return. We haven’t even had a chance to catch up properly and I know you’ll have questions, as do I. Unfortunately, your father and I were scheduled to leave this morning on a little vacation that couldn’t be changed. We’ve tried over the years to get away occasionally, now that we have someone who’s capable to run the place in our absence and who we trust implicitly. We’ll be back on Friday and I hope to hug and kiss you some more and hear all about your wild Alaskan adventure and your plans for the future, which I hope will include more time at Sky Lake. Until then, here are the keys for the ranch in case they’re needed, and a spare garage door opener if you would like to park your truck in there.

  Talk soon,

  I love you,

  Mom

  Ryder laid the paper on the island and dumped out the contents. They’d left right when he’d returned home. His parents had taken a vacation. That ranked up there with him finding out he had a daughter, and Peyton’s cozy relationship with them. In all his years growing up, they never took a vacation. They worked hard day and night to make the ranch a success. To have something to pass down to him, they told him, and maybe he hadn’t respected that at nineteen, but at almost thirty and having built something from the ground up himself with his bare hands, so to speak, he understood their sacrifice now. So while their timing sucked—or maybe it was his timing—he gave them a metaphorical clap on the shoulder for finally realizing they deserved to have a break.

  And to be honest it might be best for Peyton and him to find their footing before grandparents came in and took over. After all, no one could take charge like Shelby Marks.

  Of course, that put a little dent in his plan to show his dad just how wrong he’d been. But really what was
another week? He’d returned with pride in his blood and a deed in his hands. One week longer to sit across from his father when he discovered just who now owned part of Sky Lake was a blip in the radar.

  Speaking of Sky Lake, who was running it? He mentally reviewed all those he knew who’d worked for his parents when he left and no one came to mind that they would “trust implicitly” to take care of their pride and joy. Except maybe Dan Rigby. Ten years could change a lot, though. He knew that better than anyone now.

  Once he showered and calmed himself down maybe he would head up to the lodge and find out who was in charge to let them know he was here and willing to work.

  Because focusing on work was about the only thing guaranteed to exhaust him until laying eyes on his daughter.

  Chapter Five

  Peyton walked through the house like a machine. Dusting, vacuuming, wiping down counters as her mind circled through the past twelve hours.

  Ryder was back.

  They had kissed.

  He knew.

  He would meet Melanie on Friday.

  She had no doubt that he would be stalking her from the minute the sun came up on Friday, demanding an introduction the minute their daughter’s feet touched ranch dirt. Should she go to the camp and talk to Melanie first to prepare her? But then again, what could she say? The one and only conversation between them over her father had been brief, and Melanie had never brought it up again.

  Plus, Shelby and Mitch were already on their way to get her. They would spend a few days in a cabin near the camp and bring her home on Friday. It wouldn’t do any good for Peyton to make the trip, too. There was still the possibility that Shelby or Mitch would spill the beans to Mel. They knew he was home, after all she’d spoken to Shelby on the phone and she’d sent Ryder to check on her, but that didn’t mean they would spring it on Melanie. While very active in their granddaughter’s life, they had taken great pains to never step on Peyton’s toes. She felt confident that would extend to this.

  But come Friday there would be one hell of a family reunion.

  Peyton walked to Mel’s room and stared at the bed. It was still rumpled from Mel’s last night there, her daughter constantly in motion even in her sleep. She missed her. On Saturdays they would normally be in town at the Wagon Train eating chocolate chip pancakes and planning their day.

  She could certainly use some chocolate right about now and a healthy dose of coffee, but that would mean town, and town meant gossips, namely in the form of her dear but deadly grandmother, Polly. No. Better to avoid the whispers and pointed looks. She would finish up her top to bottom fall cleaning and then head back to the ranch. It was her responsibility for the next few days and surely she could dodge Ryder and anyone else looking to chat there.

  Mel was usually responsible for stripping her bed and washing her own clothes and sheets, but in the rush of leaving for camp, it was one of the many chores overlooked. Peyton circled the bed and reached under the mattress to loosen the fitted sheet. Her fingers brushed something metal. She yanked the sheet off and lifted the mattress. There, smiling up at her, was a picture of Ryder.

  Peyton dropped the mattress and sat on the floor. Her cheeks burned, and she pressed a palm to her lips to hold in the sob. Mel had a picture of Ryder. How? Where? She couldn’t even form complete questions. Why hadn’t Mel talked to her about him? Did her daughter think she wouldn’t want to? Had she put out some vibe that said the topic was off-limits?

  The picture was of Ryder at graduation. Mel must have taken it from Shelby and Mitch’s. Or maybe Mel, in her typical no-holds-barred fashion, had asked them for it. She wondered if Mel had also asked her grandparents about Ryder. And if she had, why wouldn’t Shelby have told Peyton?

  She rested her head on her knees. She’d thought everything was perfect, but maybe it had just seemed that way. Because apparently her daughter had felt the need to hide her father’s picture from Peyton. What did that say about her? About their relationship? Had she shortchanged Mel?

  Upheaval made Peyton twitch. She needed order and nothing about Ryder and his picture or his return screamed order. So she needed to make it so. Control back in her hands. She’d controlled every aspect of her life since the second line appeared on the test stick. She just needed to relax, evaluate, and plan.

  She pushed up off the floor and finished stripping the bed. She left the picture where it was. Throwing the linens into the washer, she put some water on to boil. Banging on her front door sounded, and Peyton peeped through the archway to see Polly’s jeep parked on the street.

  A quick glance at the clock on the wall had her laughing. It only took her two hours. She crossed the living room and opened the door for her grandmother. No words exchanged as Polly followed her back into the kitchen. She took a seat while Peyton added more water to the kettle and set two mugs on the table. Grabbing cream from the fridge, she placed it in the center, sat down, and waited.

  Polly fidgeted with her gloves and scarf, which lay side by side on the table. Her coat hung on the back of the chair. The totally not in control of anything side of Peyton wanted to tell her grandmother to spit it out. Say her piece and then leave, so Peyton could wallow a little bit longer. But that wouldn’t help her get things back in control, so she waited the older woman out.

  “Have you seen him?”

  Peyton clasped her hands and nodded.

  “Does he know?”

  Another nod.

  “So?”

  Peyton met Polly’s gaze and years of emotion tumbled through her veins, spilling over in tears and sobs. This time she couldn’t blame the alcohol. This was all organically her. This was years of questions and doubts and anger and concern she’d neatly piled on top of one another in the far reaches of her brain and her heart. Stripped bare in front of the only person she could strip in front of. Warm hands covered hers and squeezed. The kettle whistled, and Polly got up. A moment later a steaming cup of tea was placed between Peyton’s trembling fingers.

  Silence ensued as they sipped their tea. The only sound was the occasional gasp as Peyton got herself back under control.

  “Feel better?”

  Peyton managed a small smile. The truth was she did. In all these years, she’d never lost it. Never given over to the emotions. Namely because Mel was with her and it wouldn’t have served any purpose. She didn’t want to lose control. Once it was gone, it would be hell to get it back. As evidenced by today.

  “I’d say that was a long time coming.” Polly raised a silver eyebrow and Peyton smothered a laugh. There were two people in the world who might understand what Peyton had gone through. But only one would be bold enough to discuss it to her face in a blunt, matter-of-fact way.

  “Yes. It was. And now it’s gone. Time moves on.”

  “How long’s he here for?”

  Peyton ran her finger down the handle of her mug. “We, um, didn’t get around to questions like that.” She looked up. “But I imagine it won’t be long. It took him ten years to come back. I highly doubt he has a hankering to put down roots. I mean, he fled to Alaska for God’s sake. Doesn’t sound like this is a permanent homecoming.”

  “And what if it is?”

  Leave it to Polly to nail her biggest fear right on the damn head.

  …

  That evening the wind whinnied through the aspens as Peyton wrestled with the rocker. It was the second to last one left on the front porch of the main lodge and she prayed she would get them both into the lobby before they became flying missiles. As she paused to pull a piece of hair from her eyes, she saw the lake in the distance whipped up in a frenzy, whitecaps rising and falling as the early fall storm inched closer and closer to Sky Lake.

  Setting the double oak doors open, she maneuvered the chair over the threshold and placed it alongside the others. Storms this late tended to be vicious, throwing hail, thunder, and lightning to the ground. She just prayed nothing major would happen while she was on watch. Her job normally involved marketing and PR
but once a year she filled in for Shelby and Mitchum. She’d thought it a blessing this year since keeping insanely busy would keep her mind off the fact that Mel was away at camp. But neither she nor the Markses had counted on Ryder.

  Peyton glanced at the ominous sky and speedway of leaves outside and snorted. Seemed pretty damn appropriate that a forecast for rain had morphed into a freak mega-storm that prepared to wreak havoc on Sky Lake just as Ryder’s return had done the same damn thing to her ordered life.

  Which reminded her—where was he? Surely somewhere on the ranch, although she was beyond grateful he hadn’t contacted her. That could lead to nothing pretty at the moment, with both of them so off-balance and emotions simmering so close to the surface. Besides, what could be said at this point? The past was done. All that was left was how to proceed, and since she didn’t have a plan for that yet, Ryder staying away suited her just fine.

  Braving the wind one final time, she grabbed the last rocker from the end of the grand porch and hefted it back toward the entrance. Not surprisingly, the main building was devoid of people at the moment. Late September was beyond slow for Sky Lake. Contracted ranchers had returned home, and the few permanent ones were rushing around the ranch making sure everything was secure and safe. Skeleton staff were handling the inside tasks and the few guests they did have were hopefully settling in and getting ready for dinner.

  Shelby and Mitchum should have cleared the storm and made it to their cabin with no problem. She hoped their return trip with Mel on Friday would be smooth, because lord knew it would be a bumpy landing.

  Peyton looked back at the lake. Two white cottages peeked out among the trees. Both were booked, and she worried about the sleek aspens as another gust of wind came through, shaking the limbs like rag dolls. Glancing up at the murderous sky, she decided not to tempt fate by driving home to an empty house. Fly Creek lost many a branch and tree during the storms that whipped up both the lake and river. She would just bunk in the old caretaker’s cottage adjacent to the main building. No one used it anymore, since Mitchum and Shelby built their own house on the property, but they kept it ready for use “just in case.”