Winning the Rancher's Heart

by Arlene James

  The good times wanted to sneak in and melt her heart for the boy she had loved with every fiber of her being. That boy was long gone.

  This was the reason her mother had told her to stay away from their beach home. Both of her parents had agreed that any kind of contact was dangerous for her. They had handled everything needed for the divorce.

  She hadn’t seen him again, only his signature on the papers that broke the vows they had made to each other.

  No, he had broken those vows. She glanced down at the ugly white scar running from her palm to the underside of her wrist. It had been caused by her own careless mistake, but it was a was a tangible reminder of that night.

  The night she had come face-to-face with the ugly truth of his self-destruction.

  He had never hurt her, physically or emotionally, but his hatred of the world leaked into all his actions.

  When her heart’s memory failed her, one glance at the mark reinforced why she had left. He had refused her help and closed her out.

  Her daughter’s safety had been her priority. So, she had run from him without saying a word about the pregnancy.

  Guilt was hard to live with. This last year, she had almost called him several times. Rosemarie had asked about her father. With first grade starting in the fall, it was time to let Elijah know about their daughter.

  But only if he was sober. She refused to put Rosemarie in danger.

  Eyes burning, she took a step back. This was not how she had imagined their first meeting. In a homeless shelter. Beautiful, proud Elijah with the quick and easy smile was eating a free lunch at a homeless shelter.

  She glanced at the door. It wasn’t that far. She looked back at him, then groaned. Too late. They had made eye contact. Her lack of decision had taken the choice out of her hand.

  His eyes lifted, and the smile that used to make her heart flutter slipped into a frown. He tilted his head, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

  The exit was just a few feet away. Maybe she could rewind, go right out the front and pretend she hadn’t seen him. Her breathing came faster. Her feet were cemented to the cold floor.

  “Jazz?” It sounded as though his throat was full of sand.

  He stood. A worn T-shirt with the words Saltwater Cowboys stretched across his broad chest. There was a rip at the neckline.

  One, two, three slow steps and he was around the table. Then he stopped, like he was afraid of getting too close.

  His faded jeans were low on his hips and fit him perfectly, but they were threadbare and ripped at the knees. Small flecks of paint decorated the denim. Was he painting houses now, or were they secondhand clothes?

  After growing up in hand-me-downs from church donations, Elijah had refused to wear anything someone else had thrown away. He’d started working at thirteen. Once he had a job, he had dressed immaculately every day, his boots constantly polished.

  Even on his worst days, he’d still looked put together. Until he stumbled through the door late at night, drunk.

  She lowered her eyes. Those boots looked worse for wear.

  “Jazmine? What are you doing here?” Two more steps brought him close enough for her to see the unusual blend of color in his eyes. The color of Spanish moss, somewhere between gray and green. The exact shade of her daughter’s.

  Unable to talk, she lifted the bags of food she, her mother and daughter had brought in to donate. To her horror, her arms started shaking.

  “Here, let me get those for you.” He reached over and took the bags, his callused hands brushing her wrist. His fingers touched her scar and she jumped back, ripping one of the bags and sending cans rolling over the floor.

  The men who had been sitting with him rushed to help pick up the canned vegetables and junk food her mother had cleaned out of the beach house’s pantry.

  After a bit of fumbling and laughing, one of the older men brought a new bag, and they collected her donations.

  “So, who’s this lovely lady, Elijah?” The shortest one said with a grin. It was hard to judge their ages, due to the rough life that was written in every wrinkle and crease.

  Elijah cleared his throat. “Guys, this is Jazmine...” He looked at her with a question in his eyes.

  “Daniels. Jazmine Daniels.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes, afraid to see his reaction when he learned that she’d dropped his name. Holding out her now free hand, she made sure to smile. So, what if pieces of her world were crumbling around her? There was no need for them to know. “Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the help.”

  They handed her the bags.

  Her ex-husband started introducing the three men, but they all went wide-eyed. “This is Jazmine? Your Jazz girl?”

  His? Had he been talking about her to these men? Her forehead wrinkled as she glared at him.

  He closed his eyes and grimaced.

  When he reached for the bags this time, she was ready. She held her ground without acting like a middle-school girl at her first dance.

  “The food donations go in the pantry area. Through the door over there.” He pointed his chin to the left, then walked in that direction.

  She followed without thinking but stopped midway. No way was she going anywhere with him. She glanced over her shoulder. Then again, he was leaving the dining area where her mother and daughter could appear any minute.

  With a deep breath, she went through the swinging door. She’d get his number and get out before anyone was the wiser. Three women were working behind the counter. Jazmine recognized two of them from the summers she’d spent at the beach. Their eyes went wide when they saw her.

  “Well, I’ll be. Jazmine Daniels De La Rosa, it’s been ages.” Kate glanced at Elijah, then back to Jazmine. “This is quite the surprise. So, what are you doing in Foster?”

  “I’m at Port Del Mar with my parents. We’re staying at the beach house, so my father can recover.”

  The other woman, Martha, nodded. “Sorry to hear about what happened. Y’all brought him to the right place to recover. The beach is so much better than that city. The salt air at Port D has healing powers. We’ll keep him in our prayers. You should take him over—”

  “Martha.” Kate shook her head. “She’s not here to jibber jabber.” Smiling at Jazmine, she took the bags. “Interesting that you and Elijah brought these donations in together. We haven’t seen you in what? Over six years? Your parents don’t come as often, either.” The women glanced between her and Elijah, waiting for an explanation.

  Obviously, Kate wanted to talk as much as Martha. The news of her being in Port Del Mar with Elijah would be flying as if a town crier was dashing up and down the boardwalk. Another reason she should get out of here.

  The way Elijah found out about Rosemarie needed to be well planned. The gossip mill was not how a man should discover he was the father of a five-year-old girl.

  Elijah gave in to the silent pressure first. “I was as surprised as you when she walked in the door. I was just helping with the bags. Nothing interesting here.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” Martha looked as if she was about to ask more questions, but Kate interrupted her.

  “Well, we need to take these to the back and start the dishes. Y’all have a good one. Tell your parents hi and that they’re in our prayers.”

  They all smiled at Elijah as if he was a favorite son. Then they disappeared through the back door.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her that they still adored him, even if he had fallen on hard times. Despite his uncle’s reputation in town as a mean drunk and cheat, Elijah had charmed everyone. Except for his uncle and Jazmine’s parents.

  She blamed his uncle for teaching him the family tradition of drinking. But then her parents had made his life even harder. They had all had a hand in destroying their marriage.

  Shaking her head, she cleared her thou
ghts. They might have made his life difficult, but she had promised to quit making excuses for him. He made his choices, and she was not going to feel guilty. She wasn’t.

  And if she said that enough maybe she’d believe it.

  His decision to turn to the bottle instead of to her and God had been his alone. Elijah had put an end to their happily-ever-after. There was no going back once trust was lost.

  He turned to her and ran his long fingers through his hair. He focused on the counter, not making eye contact.

  “Well, by dinnertime everyone in Port Del Mar will know you’re back and that we were seen together.” Finally, he looked at her. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Her stupid heart fluttered and skipped a beat.

  He took a step closer. “It’s amazing that you’re here. I was going to try to contact your parents again. I really have to talk to you.”

  Her heart hit her ribs in double time. Had he found out about Rosemarie?

  He stared at her for a long, silent moment, then gave her that old half smile he used whenever he thought he was in trouble. Unfortunately, it had worked way too many times.

  She had a long track record of giving in to his promises, promises that never survived forty-eight hours.

  She was stronger now. Straightening her spine, she made sure to look him right in the eyes. “What is it, Elijah?”

  Something on his fingernail became the center of his world.

  “Elijah, I have to go, but if you give me your number, I’ll call and we can...talk.”

  He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve practiced this speech for years, and now that you’re standing in front of me all the words have disappeared. Jazz, you’re the only person left on my list that I need to apologize to.”

  She frowned. “List?” Then she understood. “You’re doing the twelve steps?”

  Scrutinizing his features, she looked for any clue that he was lying. Would she be able to tell if he was sober?

  He nodded as he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of those worn jeans. “Yeah. I started it a few years back, but well... I haven’t been able to reach you. And I...”

  “Momma! Look what GiGi got me!” Rosemarie, her five-year-old daughter—their five-year-old daughter—rushed through the doorway, holding up a fragile-looking doll in a Victorian dress and oversize hat.

  Jazmine looked over her daughter’s shoulder but didn’t see her mother. Yet. “That’s lovely, sweetheart. Can you go wait with GiGi for a minute? I need to take care of some business.”

  “But I thought we were going to—”

  “Jazmine?” Behind her, Elijah’s voice was even rougher than before. She dropped her head and shut her eyes. Putting a hand on Rosemarie’s tiny shoulder, she turned to face him.

  “Elijah. We need to talk—”

  “Obviously.” The word was barely audible through his clenched teeth.

  The clicking of heels on the concrete flooring told her that time was up. Her mother was going to take this stressful moment up another level. It was like watching a collision about to happen in slow motion and not being able to stop it.

  Gasps sounded at the doorway. “Jazmine. What is going on?”

  Calming her mind, she waited a few seconds before turning to her mother with a smile on her face. “Mother, you remember Elijah?” She glanced at Rosemarie, hoping Azalea would take the hint. “He was having lunch and offered to help me with our donations.”

  “Jazmine, this is exactly why I told you to stay away.” Azalea Daniels pinned a hard glare on Elijah. In a few quick steps, she had Rosemarie’s hand in hers. She pulled the little girl closer to her side, staring Elijah down. “You’re eating lunch at the food bank? Did you lose your home, too? Homeless. It shouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Mother! Not helping.” Jazmine rubbed her temple. A massive headache was climbing into her frontal lobe.

  With an indignant nod, Azalea dropped her gaze to the five-year-old. “Papa is waiting. The nurse will be leaving soon, and I must talk to her.” She gave a tight nod to Elijah before heading to the door. When Jazmine didn’t immediately follow, her mother’s spine stiffened. “Jazmine?”

  “Mom, take Rosemarie to the car. I’ll be right there, I promise.” She made a point of looking at the innocent little girl standing there without a clue of the drama swirling around her. “Please.”

  “Two minutes.” With tight lips and one last warning glare, Azalea walked out the door.

  “That’s my daughter. You—”

  “Yes, she’s your daughter and we need to talk.”

  “You not only left me without a word, but you took my daughter?” He stared at the door Rosemarie had just walked through, his chest rising and falling in rapid movements. “I have a daughter.” He turned to her, eyes flashing intense heat. “Your parents knew. They knew.”

  “Yes. Like I said, we need to talk. I have to go right now, but I can meet you tomorrow—”

  “Tonight. We’ll meet tonight or I’m camping at the beach house door until we talk.”

  “Don’t come to the house. That would upset Daddy, and we have to keep him calm. I’ll meet you tonight at Pier 19. We can grab some coffee. Is the Painted Dolphin still there?” That was probably a mistake. Every wall was covered with memories of when they were dating and the early days of their marriage. The days that were filled with joy and laughter. When they thought they could conquer the world with their love.

  The last thing she needed right now was all the could-have-beens from the good days before the drinking started.

  He snorted. “Yeah, it’s there. New owners reopened it last month.” A grim expression shifted across his face. “What’s going on with your father?”

  “He suffered a heart attack while driving and crashed his car and wanted to recover at the beach house.”

  Elijah frowned. “I’m sorry. I know how close you are to your father. Is he going to be okay?”

  “The heart attack itself was minor as far as these things go, but he was also injured when he hit a street sign. It didn’t yield.” She held back a groan. Not an appropriate time for humor, Jazmine. “Anyway, if we can convince him to follow doctor’s orders, he’ll recover fully.” The acid in her stomach started climbing up her throat. “I also came because I knew it was time for us to come together and discuss a few things.”

  “Really? A few things?” he snarled at her. “About six years too late.”

  She took a step back. “This isn’t something that can be done over the phone. I wanted to see how you were and...” She cut her glance back to the dining area. “I was hoping you were...”

  “Sober?” His nostrils flared, a clear sign he was angry. “I’ve been sober for five years now.”

  Her eyes closed. If that was true, she didn’t want to think about the time she wasted worrying about calling him. “I was hoping you were better. I didn’t mean to meet you like this or for you to see her for the first time without...” She fluttered her hand helplessly in front of her, then looked at her bare wrist as though there was a watch there. The glimpse of her scar gave her new resolve, and she became businesslike once more. “I need to go. Rosemarie goes to bed at 8:30. I’ll see you at nine?”

  “Rosemarie? You named her Rosemarie De La Rosa?”

  “She’s Rosemarie Daniels. I did want Rose in her name, and since my mother’s family has a history of naming the girls after flowers, I thought...” She needed to stop babbling.

  His eyes went dark and hard. She took another step back. That was the expression of rage she had learned to fear. He had never deliberately hurt her, but that look had always made her wonder if the potential was there.

  “Does she even know about me? Does she know who her father is?”

  “Yes. She knows your name.” Today he didn’t resemble that boy at all. “How long have you been at the shelter? Nev
er mind. I’m sorry. I need to go. I promise I’ll answer all your questions tonight. And don’t worry about the tab. I’ll cover it.”

  He leaned back on the counter. For a second, he closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, causing his chest to expand. When he finally looked at her, the flash of anger was gone, but his face was closed and hard to read. “I can afford a couple of cups of coffee.”

  He smiled, the kind of smile that was a bit forced. Like he had to remind himself to play nice. It showed off the long dimple on his left cheek, and the new lines at the corner of his eyes. “I’ll even throw in some sopaipillas. I could actually get you one of everything on the menu if you want. I have an in with the chef.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just—” This was so much worse than she had feared. God, please lead me in this and give me the words and strength I need to make this right for everyone.

  He straightened and walked toward her. When she backed away from him, he stopped and frowned. “Why are you acting as if you’re afraid of me? I never hurt you.” His hard gaze held her in place, studying her like an image he couldn’t identify. “Did I?”

  Forcing herself to stand still, she shook her head. “No. You never hurt me. I’m sorry.” Why was she apologizing?

  “Don’t worry about it. It takes a lot more these days to upset me. Just be there.” Each word clipped and tense. “If you’re not, expect me at the house. I’ll stand at the door until you answer.”

  Her phone vibrated. She glanced down and saw her mother’s name. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Jazz?”

  His low voice made her knees weak. She could not afford to be weak. “Don’t call me that. I’m not that naive girl anymore.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “I’m not the one who breaks promises.” With resolve, she pivoted and headed for the door.

  “No, you only hide a child from her father.”

  She almost stumbled. That was a punch to the gut. And the worst part? He was right. And he had every right to be angry. But she was not going to regret what she did to keep her daughter safe. Not looking at him, she replied, “I’ll be there. I’m also going to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”