“I’m sure they have better things to talk about,” he said, attempting to reassure her.
“You’re the closest thing this town has to a celebrity,” she reminded him, as she transferred the dishes and cutlery to the dishwasher. “Everything you do and say is major news.”
“Then the gossips are going to throw a ticker tape parade when they find out about Dani.”
She sent him a quizzical look. “Who’s Dani?”
“My daughter.”
Chapter Four
Kenzie stared at him, stunned. “You’re serious? You have a child?”
Spencer nodded. “A little girl.”
There were so many thoughts swirling through her mind, she didn’t know where to begin.
“How old is she?” she asked, latching onto the most obvious question first.
“Three. Well, almost four.”
“Are you...married?”
He shook his head. “No. Never. I mean, I would have married Emily, but she never told me that she was pregnant. In fact, it was only six weeks ago that I found out about Dani.”
“I can’t... I never...wow.”
“Yeah, that about sums up my reaction, too,” he admitted.
She took another minute to absorb the information he’d provided, but her brain was stuck on the fact that the wild child of the esteemed Channing family had a child of his own now. But maybe even more shocking was that the object of her adolescent adoration was sitting in her kitchen talking to her about it.
And while it had taken a concerted effort not to drool over his hotness as she sat beside him eating her dinner, this new information made her uneasy, because now she knew she hadn’t been ogling—surreptitiously, of course—the hottest guy in school but a little girl’s father.
Obviously her tired brain needed caffeine to process this.
She reached into the cupboard for a mug, then remembered the hot guy still in her kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”
“Sure,” Spencer said.
She grabbed a second mug, then popped a pod into the single-serve brewer. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black’s good,” he said.
She handed him the first mug then brewed a second, to which she added a splash of milk.
“So.” She lifted her cup toward her lips, sipped. “An almost-four-year-old daughter.”
He nodded.
“And you only found out about her six weeks ago?”
He nodded again.
Which jived with the timing of his shoulder injury, she realized. Probably not a coincidence. More likely, he’d been distracted by the revelation when he’d climbed onto the back of the bull for that fateful ride.
“Why did her mom track you down now?” Kenzie wondered.
“She didn’t,” he acknowledged, his tone grim. “Emily died in a motorcycle accident three months ago.”
“Oh, Spencer.” She set her mug on the counter and instinctively reached out to touch a hand to his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Mostly for Dani. But I’ll admit to being a little frustrated, too, because now I’ll never know why she didn’t tell me about my child.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“Linda—Emily’s mom and Dani’s grandmother—tracked me down through the PRCA,” he said, referring to the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association.
“Just to stop by and tell you that you were a father?”
“No, to tell me that Emily put in her will that she wanted me to have Copper Penny—her horse—and custody of Dani.”
“Wow,” she said again.
“Can you picture it?” he asked her. “Me? With a kid?”
She lifted her mug to her lips again.
It was obvious what he thought her response would be, and her knee-jerk reaction was to give him the definitive “no” he expected. Because when she tried to picture the Spencer Channing she’d known in high school as a dad, the image refused to form. But when she looked at him now and took a moment to really consider his question, she realized that her instinctive reaction wasn’t just unfair, it was wrong.
“Actually, I can—and it’s not as hard as I would have imagined.”
“Well, I can’t,” he told her. “I mean, what was she thinking? We met at a rodeo—she knows what my life is like.”
But there was a hint of something in his voice that made Kenzie think he wished his situation was different—something that suggested he might want to be a father to his daughter but just didn’t know how. “She was probably thinking that a child should be raised by a parent,” she told him.
“Without even giving me a heads-up that I was a parent,” he noted.
She could empathize with his frustration, but there was a bigger issue at the forefront of her mind. “Where’s Dani now?”
“In Denver. With her grandmother.” He unlocked his phone, then turned it toward Kenzie.
The wallpaper on his screen was a picture of a little girl with familiar Channing blue eyes, wispy blond hair and a sweet Cupid’s-bow mouth curved in a tentative smile. “Oh, Spencer. She’s beautiful.”
“She is, isn’t she?” he said, sounding pleased and proud—and more than a little overwhelmed.
“Are you going to honor her mother’s wishes?”
He turned the phone around again and studied the picture for a long minute before responding to her question. “I’m going to try. Maybe I wonder about the wisdom of Emily’s choices and worry that I’m going to screw up...but Dani’s my daughter—and I want to be her father.” He managed a wry smile. “And no one could be more surprised by that realization than me.”
Obviously Kenzie’s perceptions were colored by her own experiences. She’d grown up without a father because her own had abandoned his pregnant wife and, as a result, Spencer’s quiet determination to do the right thing made him even more appealing to her.
Not that she would ever let him know it. Although he’d been flirting and teasing earlier, she had no intention of opening up her heart to him again. The revelations about his daughter only strengthened her resolve, because Dani’s grieving heart was the only one that mattered.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked cautiously. “What’s going to happen next?”
“Well, I’m still hopeful that I can compete at the National Finals.”
Which she knew took place in December—barely six weeks away, and which confirmed her suspicion that his return to Haven was only temporary.
“I meant with Dani,” she clarified.
“The caseworker thought she should stay with Linda until I had suitable accommodations.”
“Caseworker?” she echoed, surprised.
He explained that Dani had been in the care of a teenage babysitter when Emily was killed. Apparently she’d promised to be home by ten o’clock, and when it got to be midnight and she still hadn’t returned, the babysitter tried to reach her on her cell phone. Emily didn’t answer, so the babysitter called her parents, who then contacted the police. They, of course, reached out to family services to take custody of the child until her next of kin could be contacted. At the time, that was her grandmother because nobody knew anything about Dani’s father.
He recited the facts in a level tone, but his hands were holding on to the mug so tightly that his knuckles were white. And though Kenzie didn’t want to add to his worry, she had to ask, “Is it possible that the grandmother might fight for custody?”
“No,” he said confidently. “Linda made it clear that she’d already raised one daughter and this one was my responsibility.”
“Charming,” Kenzie remarked.
“I know she loves Dani,” he said. “And she’s been taking care of her since the accident, even moving into Emily’s place so that Dani could stay in familiar surroundings.”
“But only
temporarily.”
He shrugged. “Her boyfriend is some rich international banker who likes to jet-set around Europe and she wants to be free to see the world with him.”
Maybe the grandmother did love Dani, but it seemed to Kenzie that she loved her boyfriend—or at least the lifestyle he could provide—more. And without even having met the little girl, Kenzie ached for the child who’d lost the only parent she’d ever known and who would soon be facing even more changes and challenges.
“Speaking of grandparents,” she said. “How did your parents respond to the big news?”
Spencer sighed. “Well, it was awkward, that’s for sure.”
“You didn’t tell us you were coming home tonight,” his mother said, but softened the admonishment with a kiss on his cheek.
“I wasn’t sure myself,” he told her.
“How’s the shoulder?” his dad asked.
“It’s coming along,” he said, as if the words might lessen the current throbbing in the joint. “I’m hoping to start therapy this week.”
“That’s good news,” Ben said.
“Speaking of news,” Spencer said.
“Please tell me you’re going to give up riding bulls and come home to work at Blake Mining,” Margaret implored.
Since he couldn’t confirm her request—because even if he didn’t know how long he was going to stay in Haven, he did know that didn’t ever want to work at Blake Mining—he decide to ignore it.
Instead, he took two chocolate cigars out of his pocket. They were wrapped in shiny pink foil with paper bands announcing, “It’s a Girl.” As he handed one to each of his parents, he said, “Congratulations, you have a granddaughter.”
His father’s brows drew together; his mother’s eyes went wide.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Ben wanted to know, obviously not amused.
“It’s not a joke,” he assured them. “It’s happy news.”
“For Christ’s sake, Spencer.” His father shook his head. “Of all the stupid, reckless—”
Margaret reached up to put her hand on her husband’s arm, the gesture effectively halting his outburst. “Is it true...you have a baby?”
“Well, she’s not actually a baby,” he said. “Dani will be four in a few weeks.”
“Then why in hell are we only learning about her now?” his father demanded.
“Because I only found out about her myself a few weeks ago,” he admitted.
But he didn’t share any of those details with Kenzie now, opting to summarize the hour-long confrontation by simply saying: “My dad yelled, my mom cried, and then, when they’d both had some time for the news to sink in, they said that they’re looking forward to meeting Dani.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand why there was so much tension in your body when you were on the table today,” she remarked.
“Yeah, that’s part of it,” Spencer acknowledged.
“Well, and your injury, obviously.”
“That, too,” he agreed.
* * *
Spencer left a short while later, after thanking Kenzie again for dinner—and for listening to him. She still wasn’t sure why he’d come to her. It might have been as simple as he’d claimed: that he hadn’t kept in touch with any of his old friends and just wanted someone to talk to. Whatever the reason, she was glad he’d shown up at her door.
She was also admittedly a little disappointed that he was already planning his return to the rodeo. When she’d heard about his injury, she hadn’t expected it would keep him sidelined for long. But finding out that he was a father—well, she would have thought that might have more of an impact.
Of course, the change in his circumstances was fairly recent, and it was entirely possible he was still processing what it meant to be a father and how that status would impact every aspect of his life.
But when I talked to him last week...he seemed to suggest that he was thinking about making a career change...
Brielle’s words echoed in her mind, assuring her that Spencer was thinking about his future—and his daughter’s, too.
And maybe, after some thinking, he would decide to stay.
Not that it should matter to her one way or the other. Sure, she’d love to meet his daughter. And maybe, if he stuck around, Kenzie and Spencer might become friends. But she wasn’t going to start spinning fairy tales in her head about some kind of happily-ever-after with a guy who’d broken her heart once before.
But listening to him talk about Dani, she’d been impressed by his commitment to doing the right thing for his child. Sure the little girl was grieving the loss of her mother, but at least she had a father who was willing to step in to fill the void in her life.
Unlike Kenzie’s own.
She pushed that thought aside and set the empty mugs in the dishwasher.
Her phone rang as she was programming the wash cycle. She glanced at the display and immediately winced.
Three messages and you didn’t call her back?
She braced herself for the fallout from that oversight and connected the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Spencer Channing’s back in town,” Cheryl Atkins said, apparently deciding this news took precedence over reprimanding her daughter for ignoring her prior calls—or even a basic greeting.
“Yeah, I heard something about that,” Kenzie confirmed.
“He came here looking for you.”
“Is that what you called to tell me earlier? Sorry I didn’t get to the phone before it went to voice mail.”
“And you didn’t return my call,” Cheryl said, now taking the bait Kenzie had dangled to avoid talking about Spencer.
“Sorry,” she said again.
“I know you think I’m nosy and interfering,” Cheryl said. “But I can’t help worrying about you.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Kenzie told her. “But there’s really no reason for you to worry.”
“I won’t worry if you promise to keep your distance from him.”
She held back a sigh. “Spencer’s not a bad guy, Mom.”
“He broke your heart.”
“My foolish, fragile teenage heart,” she acknowledged. And in a desperate effort to end the pointless conversation, she set her oven timer for thirty seconds. “Which was my fault more than his—and seven years ago.”
“Still, first love is always the hardest to get over.”
The fact that she’d had other boyfriends and even lovers since then was proof to Kenzie that she’d moved on. The fact that she’d secretly compared each of those other boyfriends and lovers to Spencer and never found one to measure up was proof she’d romanticized a relationship that had never really existed outside of her fantasies.
Her first sexual experience hadn’t happened until she was away at college, and even then, she’d been apprehensive—her mother’s warnings about unplanned pregnancy echoing loudly in the back of her mind whenever she was alone with a guy. And although she’d been on the patch, she’d made sure she had a condom at the ready, too, because “you can never be too careful.”
She’d picked Brandon Ross to be her first because he was cute and smart. In fact, he’d aced anatomy class and could name all the bones in the human body from head (frontal) to toes (phalanges), or even alphabetically from calcaneus to zygomatic. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the first clue about the location—or even the existence—of a woman’s erogenous zones.
The experience had been less than memorable. And it had lasted less than three minutes. She knew because the radio was on and Katy Perry was singing when he tore open the condom packet. He was finished and almost asleep while “Wide Awake” continued in the background. But he was a good student, and she’d been optimistic that he’d study her body and learn what she liked. Unfortunately, the sex had never gotten any better, and she’d ended the relat
ionship wondering if she would ever understand what all the fuss was about.
Apparently her subconscious believed that getting naked with Spencer Channing would assist her comprehension, because it was always him that she dreamed about at night. And maybe that belief wasn’t completely unfounded, because she’d experienced more arousal and pleasure in the hayloft at Crooked Creek Ranch with her best friend’s brother seven years earlier than with anyone else since then.
But she didn’t confide any of that to her mother. Instead, she said again, “It was seven years ago. And I’m not going to let the memories of a high school crush interfere with a potential adult friendship.”
“You’ve seen him then,” Cheryl determined.
There was no point in denying it. If it wasn’t already public knowledge that Spencer was going to Back in the Game for therapy, it soon would be, and confiding the truth now was simpler than explaining a deception later.
“As a matter of fact, he came in to the clinic today,” she said, unwilling to admit that they’d also spent the last few hours together in her apartment—because that would lead to a lecture she did not want to hear tonight.
“To see you?”
“No. For therapy.” Then, thirty seconds having finally elapsed, the buzzer sounded, giving Kenzie the excuse to say, “I’ve got to go now and get my muffins out of the oven.”
“You’re making muffins?”
“Banana nut—your favorite,” she said. “I’ll drop some off for you on my way to work in the morning.”
“That would be nice,” Cheryl said, her tone much more agreeable now.
“Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Kenzie disconnected the call and began gathering the necessary ingredients to make her mother’s favorite muffins.
* * *
The enormous house on Miners’ Pass was dark when Spencer got home—save for a single light in the kitchen confirming that Celeste was back, likely planning the next day’s menus or even doing some advance prep work. It was too early to think that his parents were home and settled in for the night. More likely they’d stayed late at the office, as was their habit.
Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy Page 5
