A Daddy for Dillon

by Stella Bagwell

  “Leyla, is anything wrong?”

  Sassy’s voice penetrated her thoughts and she glanced over to see the maid had gotten to her feet and was now approaching her.

  “No. I was just thinking about things.” She did her best to smile. “I think I’d better go check on my aunt tomorrow. Would you like to drive into town with me?”

  “Sure. We’ll stop by the Blue Mesa and I’ll buy Dillon a big ice cream cone and we’ll have pie.”

  Leyla rolled her eyes. “Do you ever stop thinking of dessert?”

  Sassy laughed. “Only when I’m thinking about a man.”

  *

  Dusk was approaching later that evening when Laramie braked his truck to a halt at the back of the house. As soon as he stepped through the gate, he spotted Dillon rolling in the grass with his kittens, Cookie and Stripes.

  Unaware that a wistful expression had softened his hard features, Laramie paused to take in the sight. No matter what had occurred with him and Leyla, the boy already felt like his son. If she took him away, it would be like tearing off Laramie’s arm or leg. He’d survive, but it would be damned hard.

  After a moment, the child spotted him standing on the stone walkway and Laramie felt a sense of utter love as Dillon raced to greet him.

  “Larmee! Larmee!”

  Chuckling, he swung Dillon up in his arms. “How’s my partner?”

  Grinning broadly, the child hooked an arm around Laramie’s neck. “I’m good! See my boots? Mommy let me wear ’em. I can’t get ’em dirty, though. She be mad.”

  Laramie made a show of inspecting Dillon’s boots. “I think she’ll be happy. They look pretty clean to me.”

  Laramie wanted to tell the child that cowboy boots were made for getting dirty. But he had no right to go against Leyla’s instructions to her son. No doubt she would resent it. The way she’d resented his marriage proposal, he thought grimly.

  He’d tried all day to forget the list of reasons she had for not marrying him, to forget the emptiness he’d felt when he’d left her apartment last night. But nothing, not even hours in the saddle or dealing with a broken windmill and a herd of thirsty cattle, had been able to push the miserable thoughts from his mind.

  He didn’t want to lose her. He loved her. More than he’d ever imagined he could love anyone. Was he crazy or just too damned weak to care that she wanted to own a house more than she wanted to be with him? He’d asked himself that question all day. And the more he’d thought, the more he’d decided that Leyla’s reaction to his proposal had nothing to do with a house, or Dillon, or her ailing aunt. It was everything to do with trust. Of taking a chance on him and all the things that could bring her happiness.

  That’s why he couldn’t say to hell with his plans with her. He couldn’t turn his back and forget all the pleasure and wonderful dreams she’d brought to his life. He had to find some way to open her eyes, to show her what really mattered to the both of them.

  Stepping into the atrium, with Dillon still riding the crook of his arm, he asked, “Is Mommy cooking?”

  “She cookin’,” the youngster answered. “You gonna eat, too, Larmee?”

  Laramie hugged the child a little tighter. “I sure am. We’re going to eat together.”

  Inside the kitchen his gaze quickly searched the room until it landed on Leyla. As yet unaware of their presence, he watched as she methodically placed plates and silverware on the table. Wearing a black-and-white gingham dress that swished against her knees and with her long hair in a braid swept to one side of her head, she looked dainty and feminine. Her beauty always jolted him, but now that he’d explored the wonders of her body, now that he knew what pleasures waited in her arms, the sight of her hit him especially hard.

  Swallowing at the tightness in his throat, he lowered Dillon to the floor. The boy quickly raced to his mother’s side.

  “Larmee gonna eat, too, Mommy! See! Larmee home!”

  Pausing in her task, she followed the direction of Dillon’s pointing finger. When her gaze caught sight of Laramie, her lips parted with surprise, but that was the only expression he could read on her face.

  As he moved toward her, she spoke in a guarded tone, “Oh. I didn’t expect you to be here. I’ll get another plate.”

  “Sorry,” he said stiffly. “I should’ve let you know I’d be coming in at a normal hour. But the way my schedule has been here lately I never know where I’ll be or when.”

  Leaving the table, she walked over to the cabinets. Laramie crossed to where she stood with Dillon following close on his heels.

  Pulling a plate from the cabinet, she said, “I found your note this morning.”

  Even though he’d left her apartment in a turmoil last night, he’d not been trying to evade her. Giving her the cold shoulder this morning wouldn’t have solved anything. It would only prove he was hardly capable of being a husband or family man.

  “A late calving heifer was having a problem giving birth. I went down to the vet barn to assist Russ. With Laurel pregnant it’s not good for her to do any heavy straining and the hands have all been working so hard, I didn’t want to get one of them out of bed when I could help instead. Turned out the heifer had to have a C-section.”

  Her expression sheepish, Leyla turned to face him. “I…I thought—well, that you’d probably gone to the bunkhouse to eat.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t believe my note.”

  Her guilty gaze slipped to a grinning Dillon. Thankfully the child appeared to be totally unaware of the stiff tension between Laramie and his mother.

  “Well, you were upset with me last night,” she explained.

  “Disappointed is a better word.”

  With a nervous lick of her lips, she looked at him and he was struck by the confusion and hurt on her face. At that moment, Laramie wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to tell her that there was no need for either of them to suffer and that somehow they could make it work.

  “Laramie, I need for you to understand.”

  With Dillon wedged between their legs and listening to every word they were exchanging, he was forced to limit his reply. “I think I do,” he said huskily, then reached down for Dillon’s hand. “Come on, saddle pal. Let’s me and you go wash up.”

  During supper Leyla was very quiet, but Dillon made up for his mother’s lack of conversation with his endless chatter. During the past few weeks, Laramie had watched the child’s self-confidence grow in leaps and bounds. There was no doubt that his surroundings had helped Dillon to thrive and grow from that quiet and shy youngster who’d first arrived here on the Chaparral. But had Leyla noticed just how much the ranch was doing for her son? And if she had, did it really matter to her?

  Giving Dillon a daddy didn’t appear to be on the top of her want list, Laramie thought dourly. Compared to buying a house for the kid to live in, it didn’t even make her priority list.

  You’re not being totally fair, Laramie. You’ve never been homeless or lived in a run-down structure that lacked the most basic facilities. If you had, you might understand where Leyla’s coming from. And it’s not just a house she wants. She has dreams to become a nurse and make something more of herself.

  I need for you to understand.

  There’d been a beseeching sound in her voice when she’d spoken those words to him, and it suddenly dawned on Laramie that for the past few years fear had been the catalyst pushing Leyla forward, the thing that had shaped and directed every choice she’d made concerning her and Dillon’s life and future.

  So how was he going to change that? Laramie wondered. He didn’t know. He only knew that somehow, someway, he had to help her put her fears aside once and for all. Otherwise, the three of them could never have a future together.

  Chapter Twelve

  The three of them had just finished the meal and Leyla was making coffee to go with the dessert when he was called once again to the vet barn. This time the emergency involved a crippled horse, and Laramie remained there until Russ ha
d taken X-rays and determined the horse would survive.

  By the time he finally returned to the ranch house, the evening had grown late and Leyla had already retired to her apartment.

  She answered his knock almost immediately, and as he followed her into the cozy living room, he removed his hat and combed a hand through his hair.

  “I was about to decide you weren’t coming back anytime soon,” she said, then gestured for him to take a seat.

  “Has Dillon already gone to bed?” As he sat on one end of the couch, he noticed several textbooks lying on the coffee table. Next to them was a legal pad with a page full of notes. Clearly she’d not dismissed her plans to become a nurse, he thought. But then he’d never expected or wanted her to simply drop her dreams because he’d asked her to marry him. He should have made that more clear to her, he thought. He should have assured her that he would never be a controlling or demanding husband.

  “He tried to stay awake,” she said as she sank onto the cushion next to him. “But I finally put him to bed about an hour ago.”

  “It took a while for Russ to do X-rays and make a diagnosis. I wanted to hang around to see if the horse was going to be okay or would have to be put down.”

  “Will it be all right?” she asked with obvious concern.

  “Russ is performing surgery right now to remove a bone chip in his knee. He’ll be fine after a long rest.”

  “So it wasn’t something caused by one of those mysterious accidents?”

  “No, thank God,” he answered. “Just a work injury out on the range.”

  Her sigh was full of relief. “That’s good,” she said, then after nervously rubbing her hands down the skirt of her dress, she suddenly rose to her feet. “I have coffee in the kitchen. I’ll get you a cup.”

  His hand shot out and caught her wrist before she could move away. “No. Maccoy made a pot in Russ’s office. I drank some there. Besides, I want us to talk before something else interrupts us.”

  She slowly eased back onto the couch. “I’m not sure there’s anything else left for us to say, Laramie. I’ve been thinking and—”

  “That’s just it,” he interrupted, “you’ve been thinking too much with your head instead of your heart.”

  She closed her eyes and, as he watched her swallow, it was clear she was torn and confused. Maybe she wasn’t even sure that she loved him.

  Hell, Laramie, if she really loved you, nothing else would matter. Not a house or property. Not her ailing aunt or anything else. She’d wrap her arms around you and never let go. And if you loved her you’d let her know that this ranch and your job mean nothing compared to having her in your life.

  Releasing his hold on her wrist, he went on, “And I’m beginning to think I’ve asked too much of you. I’ve expected you to do all the sacrificing. I’ve been thinking about everything I want when I should’ve been listening more to what you want.”

  She stared at him in wonder. “What do you mean?”

  As he gazed at her lovely face, everything inside him wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her, but his head was telling him that taking her to bed wouldn’t fix anything.

  “I’m trying to tell you, Leyla, that if living here on the ranch is that much of a problem for you, then I’ll leave it behind.”

  Her lips parted with disbelief. “Leave the ranch,” she echoed in a stunned voice. “Laramie, that’s not a solution. It’s crazy!”

  “There’s nothing crazy in wanting us to be together,” he gently reasoned.

  She swallowed hard and pain skewered the middle of his chest as he watched moisture flood her brown eyes.

  “No. But the idea of you leaving this ranch is. The Chaparral is your home. Where would you go? What would you do?”

  “We could move to Las Cruces or Albuquerque. Some city where you can become an RN.”

  Her head moved ever so slightly back and forth. “But what would you do in a city? You’d be stifled and unhappy,” she argued.

  “There would be ranches in the nearby countryside. I could take a job on one of them and commute back and forth to work,” he reasoned. “What would be wrong with that?”

  She jumped to her feet as though she desperately needed to put space between them. By the time she reached the far end of the room, Laramie was standing in front of her, cutting off her path to nowhere.

  “Answer me, Leyla,” he challenged.

  Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “Okay. You want an answer, so I’ll tell you. Everything would be wrong with it,” she said in a strained voice. “You and I both know that to manage a ranch you have to be on that ranch.”

  He heaved out a heavy breath. “Well, I don’t have to work as a manager. I—”

  “No!” she swiftly interrupted. “You’re not going to lower yourself to working as a day hand! Not any more than I would let you give up your home. Do you honestly think I could be happy knowing that you gave up everything just to please me?”

  Sheer frustration pulled a groan from deep within him. “I don’t know what you want or expect from me, Leyla. You don’t want me here. You don’t want me there. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you just don’t want me as your husband under any circumstances.”

  A tiny sob passed her lips and she lifted her hands to cover her face but not before he saw her features crumple with anguish. “That’s not true. I love you. I would love to be your wife.” Dropping her hands, she looked up at him. “But I’m afraid, Laramie. Nothing has ever lasted for me. And you loving me seems just too good to be true—too good to last.”

  His hands settled on her shoulders. “Oh, Leyla, good things can happen to you. All you have to do is let them and believe that we can make it together.”

  Tears continued to cloud her eyes. “My mother always told me and my sisters that we shouldn’t expect to have a wonderful life. She said that we needed to be realistic and remember our limitations and settle for comfortable.”

  Laramie didn’t understand how he could feel sadness for Mrs. Chee. He’d never met the woman. Never even seen a picture of her. But clearly she was a woman who’d been used and had passed her failings and weaknesses on to her daughters. Perhaps his own mother had been in that same category, he thought. Maybe Peggy had run from him and her life in Lincoln County because no one had ever told her she could do better, be better. It was a sobering thought.

  “She wants her daughters to be like her,” Laramie softly stated.

  Nodding, Leyla dropped her head. “My mother has always been too weak to stand up for herself. And I don’t want to be like her. I do have pride and I don’t intend to let anyone squash me like my father has stomped my mother.”

  He shook his head. “Leyla, I wouldn’t use marriage to take away your independence. You can still be a nurse or whatever you want to be. Just as long as we’re together.”

  Her head lifted and her eyes were full of torment. “Sassy spoke to Reena this morning. Jim’s cast is off and he’s starting therapy. She doesn’t believe Reena will be coming back here to the ranch anytime soon. But I do.”

  Quint hadn’t mentioned this news about Jim to Laramie, and hearing it now hit him in the gut. He had to convince Leyla to marry him soon; otherwise, he was certain that if she left the ranch, he would lose her forever.

  Studying her closely, he asked in a strained voice, “Is that what you want? To go back to the reservation?”

  Her eyes blinked as though his question had jolted her awake. “No. But I’m thinking it might be best.”

  Lifting one hand from her shoulders, he touched her hair, then trailed his fingertips over her cheek and underneath her jaw. “Why?”

  Her hands rested on his chest, then slid slowly, wantonly up to where his shirt parted and her fingers could touch his bared skin. “Because when you’re near me, I can’t think straight. Because all I want to do is make love to you. To say yes to anything you want.”

  The war inside him was raging now as the choice to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom b
attled with his plans for their future.

  Catching her hands, he pressed them firmly between his. “You don’t have to worry about that, Leyla.”

  Her brows drew together. “You mean you don’t want us to—”

  She couldn’t finish the words and Laramie spared her by swiftly bending his head and fastening a hot, hungry kiss on her lips. “Hell, yes, I want us to make love!” he muttered once he eased his mouth from hers. “But not like this. The next time I take you to bed, it will be as my wife or I won’t take you at all.”

  Anger suddenly flared in her eyes, and in his arms he could feel her body stiffen. “What are you doing? Trying to blackmail me into marrying you by withholding sex? What kind of arrogant bastard are you?”

  She flung the questions at him at the same time she twisted out of his embrace. Laramie reacted by catching her wrist and drawing her back to him.

  “Blackmail, coercing, forcing. None of those things have anything to do with this,” he said gruffly. “Earlier you told me you had pride. Well, so do I, Leyla. And men are no different than women. They don’t want to be used.”

  She gasped and from the expression in her eyes, he could see her mind was whirling with thoughts she’d never encountered before.

  “Using you? I would never use you, Laramie! How could you think such a thing?”

  With a muffled groan, he caught her by the shoulders and tugged her back into his arms. “Listen, Leyla, yesterday I wasn’t just having sex with you. I was giving you a part of my heart. I can’t keep giving that much of myself to you if you’re just going to walk away and take everything with you. I like to believe I’m a strong man, but I’m not that strong.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then for a second time in two nights, he strode purposely out of the apartment.

  *

  The next week passed in a tortured daze for Leyla. Even though Laramie treated her with polite respect, nothing felt the same between them. And she doubted their relationship could ever go back to the way it had felt that wonderful day they’d made love in the stucco.

  When she’d told him she was afraid, she’d been admitting her fears to herself just as much as she’d been confessing it to him. But admitting it hadn’t taken the fears away or given her the courage to go to Laramie and tell him she was ready to be his wife.