Home on the Ranch: Unexpected Daddy

by Pamela Britton

  “Well, I’d have to approve you as a nonrelated extended family member. There are forms you’d need to fill out and questions I’d need to ask, and I’d need to sign off on your place of residence. It’s a process.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “What kind of questions?”

  Was he really ready to go down this road? What kind of man would do that? If what he said was true, if he really wasn’t the father, it made no sense. And if he really was the father and he was willing to take the child, why didn’t he just admit to paternity?

  “Well, where would you live with Olivia?”

  “I have a home. It’s on our family’s ranch. Gillian Ranch.”

  Her spine snapped upright. Gillian Ranch? Holy... How had she not made the connection? This man was Via Del Caballo royalty. Part of the Gillian family, locals who’d made themselves famous in the sport of rodeo. For the first time she began to wonder if maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he really wasn’t the father. His family money would be powerful motivation to name him as dad. She’d seen it before. Charlotte struggled to remember what else they did. Horses, she thought. They raised them. And grapes. They had a vineyard. Money. Lots and lots of money.

  “Do you have a job?”

  “Of course.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I work the family ranch.”

  Of course he did. “Steady income?”

  “Yup.”

  “Any felonies, convictions...?”

  “Nope.”

  This was silly. “Look, if you’re really considering this, why don’t I give you the next twenty-four hours to think about it? Then I can grill you.”

  “Twenty-four hours.” His intense blue eyes held her own in a way that made her want to look away.

  “Do you need more than that?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head, breaking eye contact and looking at the ground. “I honestly don’t know what the hell I’m thinking.”

  But he wanted to help. That much was clear. Good-looking and bighearted.

  She took a deep breath. “Would it help if you met her?”

  “When?”

  “Today, if I can arrange it.”

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, hat still dangling from his fingers. “I think I should.”

  She’d give the man points for going the extra mile, but she doubted he’d actually go through with it. No man in his right mind would take on the task of caring for a child who wasn’t his own. Unless there was a chance he was lying. But, no, she’d begun to think he really wasn’t Olivia’s father. Then again, she’d been fooled before.

  “Just give me a minute to make some calls.” She forced a smile.

  “How about you let me know when she’s here?” He played with the hat again and she noticed his sleeves were rolled up, a dusting of thick hair atop his hands.

  She felt her heart do that odd little flip again. “Sounds good.”

  He stood up and turned, leaving in his wake a masculine musk that brought to mind brown sugar, oatmeal and hard work. She sank back into her chair, clutched the arms of it.

  He’s just a man. A good-looking, softhearted, do-the-right-thing kind of man. Nothing unique about that. Except they were rare in her world.

  For the first time she wondered if she might have found a man she could actually like.

  Chapter 2

  What the hell was he thinking?

  Maverick stared out the front windshield of his truck, wondering if he should call someone, anyone, and talk about what he’d just sort of agreed to. His dad would lose his mind, that was for sure. He should call his aunt. She would lend a sympathetic ear. But, frankly, he didn’t want to speak to anyone, so he stared at his phone on the seat next to him and tried not to feel as if he stared into the eyes of a mountain lion instead of an electronic device.

  Only when his knuckles started to hurt did he realize he’d been clutching the steering wheel of his F-350 so hard the seam of the leather bit into his flesh. In the back seat of his truck, Sadie whined, as if sensing her master’s distress.

  “I’m insane for even entertaining the notion,” he told the dog.

  Sadie cocked her head sideways, her blue eyes so intense it was like she tried to translate his human words into her canine language. She shook her head, strands of white-and-black hair flying into the air, perfectly spotlighted by the sun’s morning rays.

  “This whole thing is crazy.”

  He’d gotten a call at the crack of dawn. Sheriff’s office. He might have thought it was a joke except Bren Connelly was a personal friend. He’d told Maverick to call Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services ASAP because they were looking for him. And then he’d broken the news about Becca. Maverick had clutched his phone so tight it surprised him it hadn’t broken.

  That night in the bar, he’d been shocked by Becca’s condition. She’d come on to him. He’d told her no. She’d been upset. He’d insisted on taking her home, and he’d been appalled at her living conditions, too. And yet he’d let her go.

  And now she was dead.

  The guilt of that night stayed with him all day, and it was part of what made him head back to Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services a few hours later. Charlotte had called to tell him Becca’s little girl was available for him to meet. He’d almost changed his mind a dozen times on the way over, but in the end, he ignored the cold sweat that trickled from the brim of his cowboy hat as he stared at an office that had clearly been a single-story home at one point in its past. He’d let Becca down. He should at least meet the little girl.

  “Mr. Gillian, you’re back.” Susan, the receptionist he’d met earlier, was all smiles, and he realized he’d walked into the office and hadn’t even realized it. “I’ll let Charlotte know you’re here.”

  He decided to stand and wait for her, his eye catching on the poster of a giggling baby.

  His gut kicked.

  “Maverick.” Charlotte smiled. “Thanks for coming in.”

  The woman he’d met earlier walked toward him, her soft-looking hair pulled up and off her face in a bun. She looked like someone who threw her entire self into her job, the ivory shirt she wore a wrinkled button-up. Strands of baby-fine hair had popped free. She wore no makeup, but she had a wide mouth made even more generous by the width of her smile. Brown brows spread across the breadth of her equally brown eyes, and they were her best feature, he decided, those eyes.

  “I’m not early, am I?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.” A flash of perfectly white teeth peeked out. “She’s in here.”

  She motioned for him to follow, and he found it hard to move all of a sudden. This had to be the worst idea of his life.

  It’d only be temporary, he reassured himself.

  “Maverick, this is Jane Johnson.” She turned to an older woman who looked like a relic of the sixties, long gray hair and some kind of loudly colored dress. “And this is Olivia.”

  His gaze dropped to the toddler standing by the woman’s leg.

  Becca.

  The similarities were another sucker punch to his gut. The tiny little girl—barely even a toddler, by the looks of it—stared up at him out of Becca’s gray eyes. She seemed wary, maybe even afraid, as she swayed on stubby little legs. Her brown hair had recently been washed. He could tell by the flyaway strands that stuck out at all angles. She all but hid behind Jane’s legs. For the first time he wondered what it’d been like for her with Becca as her mom. He’d seen pictures of drug houses, and he knew, there at the end, Becca had been hitting them pretty hard. Lord help him, he couldn’t even imagine.

  He squatted down. “Hello, Olivia.”

  The toddler shrank back. She wore jeans that were too big for her and a shirt that was also overly large, one with a cupcake on the front, and even though she w
as too young to converse, Maverick could see she was clearly afraid of him.

  “I don’t think she’s used to interacting with adults,” said Mrs. Johnson.

  “When we found her, she was locked in a room,” said Charlotte.

  He looked up at her sharply, and he didn’t bother to hide how upset the words made him. The child had been treated like an animal.

  Oh, Becca...

  “She ate like a wild thing this morning,” said Mrs. Johnson. “Poor dear.”

  The shirt was too big because she was so skinny. No, starved. She might be young, and she might only be a toddler, but he could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

  “How...?” He had to swallow over a sudden lump in his throat. “I mean, why?”

  He didn’t know what he was asking, knew his words didn’t make any sense. He stood up again, never taking his eyes off Olivia.

  “It happens far more often than you might think,” Charlotte said, clearly understanding him. “The mom gets addicted to drugs. She doesn’t care for the baby. To be honest, Olivia’s lucky she made it out alive. A lot of them don’t.” Charlotte came forward, bending down by the little girl. She smiled, and Maverick realized Charlotte’s whole face transformed when she stared into the eyes of a child. “But she’ll be okay, won’t you, kiddo?”

  He had to blink a few times to get his thoughts in order.

  “She’s been really good,” Jane said. “Went right to sleep when I put her down for a nap this morning.”

  “Are you okay?”

  It was Charlotte who had spoken. She’d taken a step toward him, too, and he hadn’t even noticed.

  “I’m fine.”

  But he wasn’t. Something about the way Charlotte had looked at Olivia made him realize what he was in for. This wasn’t like Sadie out in his truck. This was a living, breathing human being, one who had already suffered so much.

  Because of you.

  The thought wouldn’t leave him alone even though he knew deep down inside he wasn’t to blame. He’d been the worst sort of friend. He should have intervened when they were teens and she’d started to drink too much. And then later, when he’d had a chance to help her again, he’d walked away for a second time. Hell, he’d refused to take her calls. Of course, she’d been hoping to lure him back to her side, but still, he could have done something more.

  And she had a daughter.

  “I think I should take her,” he heard himself say.

  He saw Charlotte’s pupils flare. “Really?”

  He already regretted his words. But he’d said them and it felt right.

  “Becca was a friend. I should take care of her kid.”

  At least for as long as they needed him. He had no idea how long that might be, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He was in it for the long haul, or until they found a permanent home for her.

  Charlotte placed a hand on his arm, and her touch soothed him in an odd way, especially with those pretty eyes of hers shining their light on him. “I can’t let you do this. Not without thinking it through. We have no idea how long it might take to place Olivia with a permanent foster home. It could be tomorrow. It could be next month or the month after that. It’s a huge responsibility. That’s a lot to ask.”

  “I’ve already thought about it. That’s all I’ve been doing since I left earlier, thinking.” Time would tell if it was a good idea or a bad one. “And I really think I owe it to Becca.”

  Her eyes held his own and her gaze softened, and she stared up at him with such intensity it rooted him to the spot. He saw surprise and uncertainty on her face, and also relief, and he wondered just how desperate she’d been to find Olivia a home.

  “I still think you should sleep on it.”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

  The relief turned into something else. A reluctant sort of approval. He realized she had the world’s longest lashes.

  “All right, then. Let’s get the ball rolling.” She turned toward the other woman in the room. “Thanks for bringing her in, Jane.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Charlotte turned away. He nodded at Jane, his gaze catching on Olivia next.

  He’d never been so afraid in his life.

  Chapter 3

  The man was either crazy or a saint or stupid, Charlotte thought.

  Or he could really be Olivia’s father.

  But she just didn’t think that was true. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t.

  “You know this will be a process, right? Even with emergency placement there’s still paperwork to fill out. And I’ll have to do a formal interview and a background check, and I’ll have to inspect your home. You’ll need to shop for supplies, too, most especially a car seat, not to mention food and clothing and a bed for the child.”

  He looked dazed. Poor guy.

  The thought, sympathy for a man, was so foreign to her that she froze for a moment. She didn’t usually care what a man felt.

  “So what’s the next step to become an emergency caregiver?” he asked. “And I presume my role would be temporary, right?”

  “It would be.” Charlotte led him back to her office. “Right now she’ll go back home with Jane until we get all the details ironed out.”

  “So she won’t go home with me today?”

  “Well, she could, but I still think you should sleep on this. We’ll get the ball rolling from our end, and if tomorrow you feel the same way, we can do the home inspection then.”

  She spotted relief in his eyes, not that she blamed him. He’d just agreed to take on a Herculean task. She wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t slow things down a bit, though, let him have some time to think things over along the way. Jane could care for Olivia for a day or two.

  And if he didn’t change his mind?

  She’d count herself lucky. One less child to worry about, at least for now.

  “Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll get started.”

  He took a few steps and then stopped. Jane had emerged from the room behind him, Olivia in her arms. He stepped toward her and smiled at Olivia. “I’ll see you soon,” he said gently.

  The child was too young to do anything but simply hide her head in Jane’s shoulder, and Charlotte felt a familiar sickness roll through her. She went as still as the little girl. She, too, knew what it was like to be afraid. Fortunately, Olivia was young, and in time she would forget what she’d seen and endured, but not Charlotte. She would never be able to forget...

  “Ready?”

  She shook herself back to the present. Maverick stared at her oddly, and she realized he’d turned toward her and she hadn’t even noticed. Jane’s gaze caught her own. The woman knew her background, and she’d spent enough time with her to be able to read the emotions Charlotte had let float to the surface. Her look of concern prompted Charlotte to force a smile.

  “Follow me,” she said. “Jane, you can take Olivia home if you want.”

  The foster mom nodded, but she still stared at Charlotte in concern. There’d be questions later. Jane had been one of the first foster parents to befriend her when she’d started with CPS. She knew about her time spent in the foster care system, and she knew how deeply it had affected her.

  “I’ll see you later,” she told her, hoping the smile she’d pasted on her face was enough to preempt any questions.

  “Have a seat,” she said for the second time, once more glad for the barrier of her desk. He wasn’t the first good-looking man who’d walked into her office, but he was the first to make her feel like a silly teen.

  “How long until we get the paternity test back?” He took his hat off again, resting it on his knee.

  “Not long. A couple weeks at most.” She brought Olivia’s file up onto her desktop. “If you volunteer for one it takes less time. Otherwise, I’ll have to order on
e through the courts.”

  “Then I volunteer.”

  She met his gaze. He was not Olivia’s father. She knew it with a certainty that took her breath away, given how jaded she’d become over the years.

  “Terrific. Let me give you the name of the medical center where they can test your DNA.”

  She took a piece of paper and noticed her hands shook as she wrote down the information. It disturbed her. There were so many walls around her emotions it was unusual to have a reaction like this. It bothered her. As the CPS coordinator for his case, she shouldn’t be forming opinions about the man. She needed to remain detached and focus on Olivia.

  “Thanks,” he said when she slid him the piece of paper. “I’ll head over after we’re done.”

  “Good. Then let’s get started on the basics.”

  It took her the better part of a half hour to get through the Q&A process, and then another half hour to go over what would be expected of him. Background check. Legal process. Home inspection.

  “When do you want me to inspect your home?” she asked.

  “Anytime you want.”

  “Well, the sooner I take a look at your place, the sooner I can designate you as a NREFM.”

  He stared at her blankly.

  “A Non-Related Extended Family Member.” Once again, talking shop helped her to regain her focus. “As a friend of the deceased parent, you’re a perfect candidate for foster parenting. The court looks more kindly upon family friends taking custody of orphan children.”

  “Orphan.” His fingers found the brim of the hat, fiddling with it. “Are you sure she has no one?”

  “I’m certain. It’s part of what we do here, look for family members.”

  He straightened. “Well, Olivia has me.”

  She peered at him for a long moment, reading the sincerity in his eyes. She had a fleeting thought that he really was quite remarkable, but then she blushed for some strange reason.

  “So, do you have time for me to inspect your home today, then?”

  “We can do it now.”

  She’d had a feeling he would say that. “Terrific. Why don’t you give me your address? Should we say four p.m.? That will give you time to call the medical clinic for your DNA test and get started on this list—” she handed him the home study requirements for foster homes “—and me time to get the paperwork started.”