Rodeo Daughter (Harlequin American Romance)

by Leigh Duncan

  “He’ll be here, honey,” Amanda soothed.

  How was she supposed to tell Hailey that Mitch was late? Late for the all-important first visit with the daughter he hadn’t seen in a week. The man might claim to love his little girl more than life itself, but his actions said otherwise.

  Small wonder the child was upset. It didn’t seem as if either parent cared enough to spend time with her. In her rush to enjoy a few hours of freedom, Karen had dumped Hailey in Amanda’s care and sped out of the parking lot.

  Poor kid. Amanda knew how she felt—she’d spent her entire childhood trying to earn her parents’ love and affection. By the time she celebrated her tenth birthday with a cupcake she bought using her own allowance, she’d lost count of the nights she’d put herself to bed alone. Of all the meals she’d fixed once she was tall enough to reach the microwave. Of the fingernails she’d bitten to the quick trying to teach herself from the home-school manuals her mom tossed on the table. After the car accident, she’d tried everything to earn her dad’s love and attention. Nothing had worked. Finally, she’d walked away, resolved never to pass that heritage on to another generation.

  She swallowed, running a hand through curls Karen had loudly called impossible to tame.

  “Come on, honey. Let me braid your hair. You want it to be pretty, don’t you?”

  Hailey’s tears subsided. “Do you know how?” she asked, surveying Amanda with an expression far too skeptical for a four-year-old. “You look like a cowgirl.”

  The child’s assessment was too perfect.

  “You’re right,” Amanda said with a laugh. In boots and jeans, she didn’t exactly fit the image of a hairstylist. Or a mother. No, she looked like she’d just come in from the barn. Which was exactly where she’d been.

  “I do know a little something about hair, though.” She shook out her ponytail. Just as quickly, she swept the strands off her neck and back into place. “Would you like to choose some rubber bands and clips?”

  Hailey’s head tilted. Her wary slant-eyed glance said she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she nodded slowly.

  Boot heels echoing off hardwood floors, Amanda retrieved a box of supplies from her desk drawer before leading the way into the playroom.

  “Are you a real cowgirl?” Hailey asked as Amanda made swift work of knots and tangles.

  “I used to be. Now I’m an attorney.”

  Hailey’s breath caught. “Like my daddy?”

  “We do different things, but yes, sort of like your daddy.” Amanda divided Hailey’s hair into sections and began braiding. “And I still like horses.”

  Much as she hated to admit it, her dad had been right about one thing. Performing in the Saddle Up Stampede had rekindled her passion for riding. Though she would never appear professionally again—those days were over—she’d been out to Boots and Spurs several times in recent weeks. The ranch hands were glad to have experienced help in exercising a stable full of horses. Plus, riding helped her burn off tension, and after seeing Mitch again, she could use all the help she could get in that department.

  She glanced down at his little girl. Now was definitely not the time to dwell on her disappointment and anger over Mitch Goodwin. Not with his daughter sitting at her feet. With an effort, she wrenched her thoughts away from the frustratingly handsome attorney and placed them firmly on entertaining Hailey.

  While she shared a few of her rodeo adventures, the child listened in gape-mouthed silence. By the time braids trailed down her back and barrettes held wispy curls in place, Hailey’s eyes shone like pennies. With Mitch still a no-show, Amanda suggested they watch a movie, and slipped Black Beauty into the DVD player. Instantly entranced, Hailey remained glued to the screen even when loud knocking resounded through the office nearly an hour later. She barely stirred when Amanda rose to answer.

  At the door, Mitch attempted to barge past, wearing a distracted frown. “Sorry I’m late. I was on the phone with the district attorney and couldn’t get away. Is Hailey in the playroom? How ’bout giving Karen a call. Tell her to come at seven.”

  Amanda grimaced. This was exactly the kind of workaholic behavior she’d expected from Mitch. She eyed the man whose good looks and charm probably had women jumping through hoops at his every whim. Well, she wasn’t one of them. It was time he learned a lesson or two, and after spending the last hour babysitting—no matter how sweet the child—she was in just the right mood to school him.

  “Hailey’s watching a movie. She’ll be all right while you and I get a few things straightened out. Two o’clock means two o’clock,” Amanda said, dispensing with the preliminaries. “If I have to give up my Sunday afternoons for you, the least you can do is show up on time. And Karen will be here at six, exactly as we agreed.”

  Mitch’s eyebrows rose. “We can’t make an adjustment? Just this once? I thought…”

  “Whatever you thought, you were wrong. Sarah Magarity sent over a list of instructions I have to follow.”

  She’d hoped to review the rules with Mitch before Hailey arrived. Thanks to him, that hadn’t happened. Now, the clock would tick away more of his visit while they hashed things out.

  “Once we set a time, we have to stick with it. No last-minute changes.”

  A worried frown creased Mitch’s mouth. “What else?”

  Amanda inhaled deeply and tackled the biggest item on the list. “You can’t question her about her arm.”

  Mitch’s response was instantaneous. “What? That can’t be right.”

  “I’m afraid it is. DCF wants to make sure you don’t coach your daughter. If you so much as mention the fall, I have to file a report. So the, uh, incident, her shoulder, the trip to the hospital—it’s all off-limits.”

  “I can’t even ask if her arm hurts?” Mitch’s blue eyes widened in disbelief. “What kind of father wouldn’t at least do that?”

  Hailey hadn’t complained, not once. “Her shoulder is fine. She doesn’t seem to have any lingering effects. Not as far as I can tell.” Amanda considered the way the child had slipped her sling off and on. “I think your biggest challenge will be making sure she doesn’t overdo it until the arm is fully healed.”

  Mitch studied the floor at his feet. “More trouble is the last thing I need, but…” He blew out a breath so deep Amanda caught the faint odor of mint. His lips thinned. “I won’t mention it unless Hailey does.”

  His penetrating stare begged Amanda to believe him. After giving herself a quick reminder that she was there to observe, not judge, she cleared her throat. “Then I guess we’d better go see her.”

  But if Mitch planned to impress her with his child-rearing skills, he struck out with his next turn at bat. Instead of the greeting he obviously expected, his daughter gave him the silent treatment, staring at the TV as if her life depended on it. She even resisted his hugs, leaning out around his shoulder to see the screen.

  According to what Amanda had read about raising a child—and ever since settling on family law, she’d devoured books on the subject—Hailey was simply punishing her dad the best way she knew how. Which didn’t make it any easier for Mitch. For a moment, Amanda thought she saw tears in the big man’s eyes. She turned away, not wanting to see his pain or consider the kind of father who’d be hurt by his daughter’s brush-off.

  Firming her own resolve, she crossed to a corner, where she’d left a court case she intended to review. As she settled herself behind a small desk, she half expected Mitch to berate his child or, at the very least, insist that she talk to him. Amanda braced herself, prepared to intervene if need be. But Mitch surprised her, settling on the couch beside Hailey, one arm draped over the seat back.

  “Sweetheart, I’m turning the TV off now,” he said when the movie ended, and less than an hour of their visit remained. A smile wreathed his face. “I brought the cups and saucers so we can have a tea party like we do at home. Will you help set things up?”

  Hailey shrugged her shoulder and winced. “You do it, Daddy. My arm
hurts.”

  Amanda cast a warning glance in Mitch’s direction. He ducked his head as if to say she didn’t have to worry—he wasn’t going to break the rules. Apparently satisfied that his daughter was speaking to him again, he bent and straightened the sling around Hailey’s neck.

  “Let’s use this, okay? It’ll help your arm get better. There,” he said, when her fingers dangled just beyond the edges of the blue cloth. “Now, how about some chocolate milk and cookies for our tea party?” He began pulling items from a tote bag.

  Though she tried to focus on her reading material, Amanda paused to watch Mitch arrange fragile china on the low coffee table. Seeing the way he worked with Hailey stirred the faintest doubt about the accusations against him. Quickly, she blinked and looked away, reminding herself she was there only to observe.

  Once everything was ready, Mitch draped a fringed towel over one arm.

  “Your tea awaits, madam.” He bowed slightly to his daughter.

  Hailey giggled while he guided her to the place of honor at the “head” of the table, where her laughter faded.

  “Daddy, you didn’t set a place for Miss Amanda.”

  Mitch’s tone turned decidedly neutral. “I think Miss Amanda might be busy. She might not have time to have tea with us today.”

  “Sure she does, Daddy.” Hailey’s little face darkened. “I want her to come to my party.”

  Mitch lifted his hands, questioning. His imploring eyes found Amanda’s and refused to leave them. “Would you? We have plenty to share.”

  She wavered. According to the rules, she wasn’t supposed to interact with Hailey and her dad. Not supposed to interfere unless she thought the child was in danger. But when Hailey scampered across the room to stand at her knees and ask politely that she join them, Amanda realized she was nearly as susceptible to the little girl’s charms as her father was.

  The next hour passed quickly while the three of them sat at the small table, nibbled on cookies and drank make-believe tea. Mitch told stale knock-knock jokes that sent Hailey into gales of giggles. Once she warmed up, the little girl turned into a chatterbox, practically giving a blow-by-blow account of every minute she’d spent in preschool that week, and with Esmeralda.

  Mitch soaked in the details like a man who might pull the memory of this golden hour out again and again, while Amanda struggled to remain objective. His rapt attention to his daughter dented her image of Mitch as a demanding workaholic. And by the time they’d eaten the last cookie and drained the last cup, the question of whether or not someone had made a terrible mistake troubled her thoughts.

  All too soon, a horn sounded from the parking lot. Glad for the interruption that put an end to her questions, Amanda brushed crumbs from her hands. “It’s time to go now, Hailey. This has been fun, hasn’t it?”

  The little girl’s eyes widened. “I’m not done.” She grabbed her empty teacup, lifted it to her lips and made slurping sounds.

  “Your mama’s here to take you home, Hailey. I’m afraid you’ll have to go,” Mitch said, though anyone could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

  “But I didn’t tell you ’bout my letters. I’m learning them at school, Daddy.” Her little-girl voice shifted into overdrive. “A is for apple. B is for basket. C is for cat. D is for…”

  Amanda glanced at Mitch. No help there. The man hung on his daughter’s every word. Deciding she had to be the one to take charge, she stood.

  “I’ll get your doll—Mrs. Giggles, right?—while you say goodbye.”

  Her last word threw Hailey’s emotional switch. Every trace of the sweet little girl who’d spent the last hour laughing and telling stories disappeared. Tears filled her eyes. Her mouth trembled.

  “But I don’t want to go to Mama’s ’partment,” Hailey protested. “I want to go to my house.” The child scrambled to her feet and practically threw herself onto Mitch’s lap. “Please, Daddy, please. Please take me home with you.”

  Mitch clutched his daughter to his chest. With one hand, he patted circles on her back while he whispered words Amanda felt sure he hated.

  “It’s all right, baby. I’ll see you next Sunday. We’ll meet right here, and next time I’ll bring Chutes and Ladders. Would you like that?”

  “Noooo!” Hailey wailed. Her voice rose higher. “Noooo! I don’t want to go.”

  Mitch struggled to his feet, his daughter in his arms. Tenderly, he placed her on the floor and knelt down until they were face-to-face. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Hailey, but you have to go home with Mommy now.”

  Tears rained down Hailey’s cheeks. She threw herself at him, her arms going around his neck in a death grip, the empty sling shoved aside.

  “Please, Daddy. Please let me come home. I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise. I will. I’ll be a good girl. Don’t you love me anymore, Daddy?” Her sobs took up every inch of space in the room.

  Outside, the horn blew again, longer this time, a signal that Karen had grown impatient. Amanda wondered if she’d be forced to literally pry the child out of her father’s arms. The prospect was so unappealing that she waited while Mitch continued to murmur reassurances without giving in to Hailey’s demands.

  Without warning, the little girl changed tactics. “I hate you!” she screamed. She pushed at his chest. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

  Helpless in the face of his daughter’s tantrum, Mitch simply knelt where he was and clutched Hailey to him while her tiny fists beat a tattoo against his shoulders. Still screaming, she wrenched herself free and raced for the door.

  Amanda caught up with the child halfway down the hall, where she cast a glance over her shoulder at Mitch.

  The man stood, stricken, his face pale, his eyes wide, his expression one of utter desolation and vulnerability.

  Hoisting Hailey into her arms, Amanda spun on one heel and turned away. Mitch’s pain was too heavy a burden to carry, his love for his daughter something she couldn’t bear to see.

  * * *

  IN THE MIDDLE OF THE playroom, Mitch gripped the back of the couch for support. Legs spread, he let his weight fall forward onto his hands. He drew in heaving breaths, one after another, until he could think of his daughter’s meltdown without wanting to curl into a ball in the corner of the room. Not that this was the first time she’d ever thrown a temper tantrum. Far from it. But there was no denying this episode had been in a class all its own.

  “I’ll be good, Daddy…I’ll be a good girl. Don’t you love me anymore?”

  With his legs too shaky to support his weight, he rounded the couch and sank down on it, then buried his face in his hands. A thousand questions swirled through his mind as he tried to get a grip on Hailey’s outburst. Did his sweet, adorable little girl honestly think she was to blame? That if she behaved better, she’d be able to come home again? Did she think he’d stopped loving her? Or that any of this was her fault?

  He was still sitting there ten minutes later when the door at the main entrance opened and closed. Lifting his head, he listened to the clatter of boots in the hallway. His throat tightened.

  Hailey’s meltdown had been bad enough, but to have Amanda witness it only made things worse. He mopped his face with both hands, struggling to look strong when his whole world was falling apart.

  “Is she okay?” he asked when Amanda stepped into the room.

  In a strangely thready voice, she replied, “Hailey was winding down by the time I put her in the car.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “She usually puts so much energy into her temper tantrums that she’s exhausted by the end.” If they were home, he’d hold Hailey in his arms and rock her, soothing hurt feelings with quiet reassurances of how much he loved her, how much he believed in her, until she fell asleep. By the time she woke to the familiar sounds and smells of her own bed in her own room in her own house, whatever had triggered the meltdown would be forgotten, faded into a distant memory.

  But they weren’t home. And, God help him, it didn’t look as i
f they would be in the foreseeable future.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Been better,” Mitch admitted. He tried not to read too much into the hand Amanda placed on his shoulder. He’d hoped to use their visitation to prove to her he wasn’t the kind of father who would hurt his child. He’d wanted her to see the easygoing relationship he had with his daughter. To demonstrate why it was right that Hailey live with him and not her mother. After today’s fiasco, he guessed he could kiss goodbye to those hopes. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “I’m not.”

  The unexpected sympathy brought his head up. He searched Amanda’s face, reading guilt in the sheepish look he found on her pert features. “Really?”

  “It gave me a new respect for parenthood. The books make it sound so easy, but it’s a tough job, isn’t it?”

  “Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Mitch answered honestly. “Till now.” He took a deep breath, his decision made. “I should probably tell you that I can’t let things go on this way.”

  Amanda’s hand dropped from his shoulder. Her boots sounded against the wooden floor as she came around the couch to face him. Concern filled her eyes. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

  “Probably.” The half-hearted grin he’d managed fell from his lips. “Hailey has to know she’s not at fault here. I don’t know where she got the idea, but she’s decided she’s being punished for getting hurt, and that’s why she can’t come home. You heard her—she said she’d be a good girl, that she’d behave. That kind of thinking can have a lasting impression.”

  In his job as a prosecutor he’d dealt with more than his fair share of women—and men—who’d followed issues with poor self-esteem right down the rabbit hole into poor decisions about education, relationships, crime. He didn’t want that for his daughter. No way. “I don’t like where this could lead.”

  Amanda planted one fist on her waist. “The fall is off-limits. If you so much as mention it, you could lose the right to see her altogether.”