Home on the Ranch: Unexpected Daddy

by Pamela Britton

  “Great...great.”

  Dumb. She sounded stupid.

  “How’s Olivia?” she tacked on.

  “Terrific,” he answered, and then she heard him cover the phone and say, “Sadie, don’t you dare steal her mac and cheese, darn it.” His voice came through again. “I ended up taking the week off hoping to help her settle in. Took a vacation I hadn’t had in years, so it was no big deal. I think it was the right thing to do. I almost got her to smile the other day. And I found someone to watch her for me next week, so that’s handled. So far so good.”

  There. See. They’re fine. No need to worry.

  “Good. Great.” She played with the cord on her phone. “Look. I know it’s a big pain in the rear, but I’ll need to check up on you from time to time. Once a child is in my care, I kind of have to keep tabs on them.”

  She heard a muffled sound that made her think he’d switched the phone to his other ear. “No, that’s fine. I was actually thinking about you the other day.”

  Why did her lungs stop working for a second? “Oh?”

  “Well, not you precisely. About you and what you guys do there. It seems crazy that you have such a shortage of foster parents when there are so many couples out there that can’t have kids, so I thought maybe we should do something to help you out. You know. Have a fund-raiser or something. Help get the word out that there are kids in need. An awareness day or whatever. My aunt’s a whiz at producing events. She puts on a big horse show every year, including an exhibitor party that would do Hollywood proud. If we held an event out here it would be a great way to inform the public of your needs.”

  He wanted to help.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “I’d have to think about that for a bit.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Who was she kidding? It was exactly what they needed. They didn’t have the budget for television spots or radio ads like the private foster agencies did. It was all she could do to operate with what the state of California gave her, and yet this week alone they’d had three new kids come in, all from different families. One of them would ultimately be returned to Mom once she cleaned up her act, but there was still the issue of temporary foster care. What she wouldn’t give for a dozen more like Maverick.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you come on out to the ranch and we’ll talk about it.”

  Out to the ranch?

  How was it possible to want something and then also not want something? She had no idea why she always reacted to him in such a strange way whenever he was near. It was almost like she was afraid of him, and that was silly. She’d dealt with other good-looking foster dads in the past. This foster dad was a saint. And yet even just talking to him on the phone made her palms sweat. Why?

  Whatever the reason, she wouldn’t let it affect the future of Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services.

  “I guess I could do that, especially if I combine it with a wellness check.”

  “Cool. Maybe today? I know that’s short notice, but we’re home, doing nothing, so it’d be a good time.”

  “Oh, well—”

  “I can show you pictures of what we’ve done in the past. Heck, I can even show you the arena where we hold the big events. I can ask my aunt to come over. You can meet her and talk about what you need.”

  “Yeah, sure. But it’d have to be later.”

  “Great.”

  No, it wasn’t great, she thought as she hung up. Not great at all because she’d never felt so anxious about seeing one of her foster dads. It didn’t make any sense.

  * * *

  “You like this woman, don’t you?”

  His aunt Crystal stared at him like a surgeon would a broken arm, and he should know because his sister-in-law Ava was an orthopedic surgeon and he’d seen the way she used to look at his brother Carson’s arm when in the hospital. Still, he tried not to squirm under the intensity of that gaze because his aunt could spot a fib a mile away. He’d once left the gate to the pasture wide open. A few dozen head of cattle had gotten out and destroyed a portion of the vineyard. His own mom had believed his lie, but not Aunt Crystal. Oh, no. She’d squeezed the truth out of him in no time flat.

  “I like what she does for kids,” he clarified.

  They were sitting in his family room, his aunt on a couch his brother Carson had made out of oak and leather and metal buttons, although how the heck Carson had managed to do it, he had no idea. Maverick sat in a matching chair that he’d dubbed “the throne.” It was huge and matched the couch except it had real cow hide hair instead of smooth leather. Crystal held Olivia on her knee, bouncing her up and down, trying to coax one of Olivia’s rare smiles out of her. So far he’d managed to care for the little girl without killing her, but that was thanks in large part to his aunt, who Maverick now called his child-rearing consultant.

  “Is she pretty?” Crystal asked, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing.

  An image of Charlotte’s smile came to mind. “I don’t know, Aunt Crystal. She’s always got her hair up, and she always wears these button-up shirts and stuff. Impossible to tell.”

  “Maverick Stewart Gillian.” The bouncing stopped. Even Olivia seemed to sit up straighter, although that might be because of Charlotte’s tone of voice. “I would hope I’ve taught you that beauty has nothing to do with a woman’s hair or what’s underneath her shirt.”

  Said one of the most beautiful women in Via Del Caballo. His aunt had been a rodeo queen in her youth and it was easy to understand why. Her blond hair had turned gray, but it’d been a platinum color that came directly from nature and not a bottle. Her blue eyes were still huge and set into a face unmarked by age.

  “Don’t listen to him, Olivia,” she said in a singsong voice. “Your grandmother raised him better than that.”

  Thoughts of his mom had him staring at his hands. This whole week he’d missed her with a fierceness that struck him hard, more now than ever because he could have really used her guidance. He’d never been close to his dad, although not for lack of trying. Maverick wasn’t big into rodeos like his older brothers were. Wasn’t a favorite son like Flynn was, his oldest brother having inherited his dad’s passion for breeding horses. But that was okay. His dad left him alone to run the ranch while most of the family was off showing horses or watching Shane or Carson at a rodeo, and that was the way Maverick liked it.

  “She’s got a good heart,” he admitted. “I mean, who wouldn’t admire a woman who committed herself to helping needy kids?”

  His aunt went back to bouncing. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Less than an hour later she had her wish. A car pulled up to the front, and then a second later a door slammed, a reflection from the driver’s side glass penetrating the big-pane window of his family room with a flash. He got up out of his chair, tensing for some reason, his aunt watching as he crossed the room to greet Charlotte at the door.

  Sadie had greeted her first. Charlotte stopped in her tracks on the porch, staring down at the dog as if uncertain what to do.

  “Just ignore her,” he said.

  She sidled around the canine, and he wondered if she was afraid of animals or something.

  “I told you she’s a sweetheart. You should see the way she’s taken to Olivia. Sleeps at the foot of her crib every night.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she is. I’m just not used to dogs.”

  When she got closer he realized her brown eyes had flecks of green in them. Not really hazel. Still brown, but spotted by color. Pretty.

  “Glad you could come out.”

  Sadie had clearly decided Charlotte needed investigating and followed at her heels. She’d gotten protective with Olivia, although at first his dog wasn’t sure what to think about the tiny human living with them. Sadie had followed her around the house, but Maverick had a feeling his coll
ie only did it because she thought the little girl might need to be herded out of trouble.

  “Sadie, leave her alone.”

  Charlotte glanced back at his dog, and he wondered if she’d changed before coming over. He’d never seen her in boots and jeans before. No button-down blouse today, just a black T-shirt that clung to curves he hadn’t even known existed, her hair loose around her shoulders.

  “I thought I should change,” she said, and he realized she must have caught the direction of his gaze and it had made her self-conscious. “You mentioned something about an arena.”

  “No, no. You look fine. I was just expecting the business you.” His dog circled her feet and he sighed. “Sadie. Stop it.”

  The black-and-white dog glanced between the two of them, and Maverick would swear his canine friend waited for Charlotte to give her a command.

  “Inside,” he ordered. The dog obediently slipped through the door.

  “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  He caught a whiff of her when she passed. Lemons and vanilla. It was a smell that reminded him of his youth. Lemon cookies, he realized. His mom used to make them all the time. Funny how he just now remembered that.

  “Aunt Crystal, this is Charlotte.” He hung back while Charlotte entered the family room. “She’s in charge of Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services.”

  His aunt smiled up at Charlotte with the warmth and friendliness that she was known for. “So nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’d shake your hand, but mine are a little full at the moment.”

  “That’s okay.” Charlotte crossed over to her, kneeling down in the same way she had that first day. “Hey there, young lady. How are you?”

  Olivia had turned her head at the sound of the stranger’s voice, her eyes widening a bit when she spotted Charlotte.

  “Can I hold her?” Charlotte asked.

  “Of course.”

  Charlotte held out her hands and smiled at Olivia in a way that made Maverick’s whole body still. There were two sides of her, he thought. The shy, businesslike side of her, and the loving, warm side that she reserved for her kids.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “You’ve gained weight.” She touched her nose to Olivia’s. “That’s so wonderful.”

  “She actually eats like a horse,” Maverick said. “And I should know. I’m a slave to her dietary needs.”

  “She’s a darling little girl,” Crystal said. “But I did want to ask you—is it normal for her not to talk? So far all she does is make noises. She’ll reach for things. Point. That kind of stuff, but that’s all.”

  “She said mama the first day we brought her home,” Maverick said.

  “Oh?” his aunt replied. “But not since.”

  Maverick shook his head. Charlotte was still smiling down at the little girl.

  “More normal than you might think,” she said. “Especially when a child has been neglected. They need human interaction to pick up on words, and I’m afraid Olivia has had precious little of that.”

  “Was it really that bad?” his aunt asked.

  “Almost as bad as I’ve ever seen.” Charlotte faced his aunt. “And I’ve seen some terrible stuff.”

  “Well, that’s just tragic.” Crystal met his gaze, sadness in her eyes. “Becca was a lovely girl. In fact, there was a time when I thought she and Maverick might work out.”

  “Aunt Crystal, no. It was never like that between us.”

  “Not for her lack of trying.” Crystal shook her head. “That girl was in love with you for years, Maverick, but you never gave her the time of day.”

  “Not true.”

  Crystal just shook her head. “Men. Sometimes they’re so blind to these things. But Maverick’s not the type to lead a woman on. Becca might have thought she was in love with him at one time, but she got over it, and then she started hanging around with those Hamilton boys.” She stood up, reaching out to swipe a lock of Olivia’s hair off her face. “And that was the beginning of the end. So sad.”

  “I’ve heard stories like that before.” Charlotte’s smile turned sad. “It’s a shame what drugs can do to someone.”

  “It is. Thank goodness she had the good sense to put Maverick down on that birth certificate—otherwise, who knows where her child would have ended up.”

  “Aunt Crystal, please. That wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do.”

  “No, it was a sign of her desperation, Maverick. But it’s all water under the bridge. We’ll see Olivia wants for nothing while she’s in our care.”

  Charlotte met his aunt’s gaze. “I can tell you already are, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” She looked over at him, but it was from beneath her lashes. “Both of you. Olivia is truly lucky to have you.”

  “Any luck on finding her a permanent home?” Crystal asked.

  “I’m afraid not. We’re stretched so thin these days. One of our families has a daughter that’s close to aging out, but it’s not uncommon for kids to stay with their foster parents well beyond eighteen, so I’ll have to wait and see.”

  “As long as it’s a good home,” Crystal said, her eyes softening. “Nothing but the best for that little girl.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said.

  At last she looked him in the eyes, and he just sort of went “Oh” at what he saw in them. Gratitude. Approval. Respect, and something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but that made him duck his own head and stuff his hands in his pockets.

  Crystal held out her hand. “Here.” She wiggled her fingers. “Let me take Olivia. Maverick wants to give you a tour.”

  “Aren’t you going to come, too?” Maverick asked.

  “Oh, goodness, no. Run along, you two.” She took Olivia. “I’m going to spend some time with this little girl. When you come back from showing her around we can talk. In the meantime, have fun.”

  Chapter 9

  Have fun? Charlotte thought. This crazy upside-down, inside-out feeling she had whenever Maverick was around was not fun. It was...troubling.

  “Do you want to walk?” Maverick asked, turning outside the front door and telling Sadie to stay.

  For some strange reason she wished the dog was going with them. Given how uncomfortable canines made her feel, she admitted it was a sign of desperation. Moral support, even the four-legged kind, was what she needed.

  “Walk,” she said, because she didn’t want to be in a vehicle with him alone. She would feel too...too vulnerable.

  “Come on. This way, then.”

  She walked alongside of him, his big shoulders so much higher than her own she found herself wondering how he found horses big enough to carry him. But it was his eyes that kept drawing her in, the softness in them, the kindness.

  “I really appreciate—”

  “My aunt thinks—”

  They both stopped talking at the same time, and then, despite her discomfort, Charlotte smiled. The right side of his mouth lifted, too, and she heard a low rumble that she realized was the start of a laugh. She looked down at the ground, the cowboy boots she wore once a year—at the Via Del Caballo annual rodeo—scuffing the dirt road. She took a deep breath, focusing on their surroundings. She’d never seen a more glorious location in her life. The sun was still high enough in the late-afternoon sky that it lit up the trees around them, casting long shadows on the ground. This time of year, the grass was still green, a slight breeze catching the tops of the longer blades and causing them to dance.

  “You go ahead,” she said.

  “I was just going to say my aunt thinks holding a fund-raiser of some kind is a great idea. She said we could get media out to the ranch and invite some of our cutting horse friends and local families. The ones with the means to help out, if you know what I mean.”

  She nodded. “I’d have to look into whether we can take
private donations. We may have to go the route of a media event. You know, invite the press so they can help spread the word about what our needs are, which is basically one thing—foster parents.”

  They lapsed into silence and she tried not to feel self-conscious as she walked alongside of him, but it proved to be impossible. The man seemed as large as a stuntman off a movie set. Never, not in all her life, had she had such a visceral reaction to a man. Usually men were so far off her radar that when one of the girls in the office made a comment about a good-looking delivery guy or foster father, she found herself taken aback. But with Maverick, she finally understood what it was like to look at a man and think, Wow.

  “So, I saw on your form that Maverick’s not your real name. Why do they call you that, then?” she asked into the silence that made her uncomfortable.

  He smiled down at her, and she realized he wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, and that his hair was shaggy and nearly black and so thick it was no wonder his eyes looked like those of an ’80s rock star, all fake eyeliner and dark lashes.

  “My dad wanted to name me something hideous, and to hear my mom tell it, they argued her entire pregnancy. In the end, my dad got his way, but Mom was a huge fan of the movie Top Gun, so she started calling me Maverick just to get my dad’s goat and it kind of stuck. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  He lifted his hands. “And if you saw my real name, then you know why I don’t like it.”

  “I have seen it,” she reminded him with a smile. “And I agree. Fineus doesn’t exactly seem like something to call a cowboy.”

  “No, not really.”

  He laughed again, and she liked this newer, more relaxed Maverick. He’d calmed down. A week of parenting had calmed him down. This was the real Maverick. A man of quiet confidence and compassion.

  “I like Maverick better.” His smile turned rueful.

  He wasn’t afraid of admitting how mortified he was by his real name and she found that...surprising. In her experience, men didn’t like to admit a weakness, but this one clearly didn’t mind.