Cowboy Daddy (7 page)

The fear deep inside him grew with each word. He wanted to grab Laurel and disappear into the crowd. He wanted to take back ever meeting this woman, ever letting Laurel know she’d been adopted. But he couldn’t. Not for Anne, even though he was finding it harder and harder to hate her, but for Laurel. She would want the same thing Anne did. Laurel would want more.

He looked down at his daughter. She was talking to another girl her age and they were pointing at the skaters. As if she sensed his gaze, she looked up, smiled and then waved at him. He waved in return. He couldn’t refuse her what she needed simply because he was afraid of losing her. But by God, he wanted to.

“I’ll let Laurel call you,” he said slowly, not looking at her. “I would appreciate it, however, if you didn’t initiate the calls or talk about a visit. I believe it should be Laurel’s decision.”

“Yes, of course.” Anne smiled brilliantly. Her pale blue eyes practically glowed with happiness. She tilted her head. “Why are you being so accommodating?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I think so.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Oh. I get it. You’re hoping that by giving Laurel what she wants, she’ll get tired of the whole thing. By taking away the forbidden, you eliminate one of the attractions.”

“Maybe.”

Her smile faded, and with it the light in her eyes. “You could be right.”

“Look, Anne, don’t take this personally.”

“Hard to take it any other way.” She shook her head. “Jake, I know you don’t like me very much. I understand that. I even understand what you’re doing and why. If Laurel was my daughter—” She stared at him for a second. “If I had raised Laurel, I’d probably be doing the same thing. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

It was a victory of sorts, and he could afford to be generous. “This isn’t about you, Anne,” he said.

“But if you had your way, I’d disappear from her life, never to be heard from again?”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to lie?”

“That answers the question.”

“I guess it does. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve changed my opinion some.”

Her delicate brows raised slightly. “For the better, I assume. You could hardly think worse of me.”

Now it was his turn to feel a little uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. “Maybe if you’d robbed that bank.”

“Right.” She held out her hand. “Truce?”

“Truce.” He reached out and engulfed her small fingers in his.

Immediately electricity shot up his arm, through his chest and down into his groin. He wanted to jerk his hand back, but that would mean admitting she affected him. Yeah, right, as if he was supposed to ignore the practically visible sparks flying between them.

Her smile faltered, then faded altogether. They stared at each other. Awareness flashed between them, and a growing horror that they were both experiencing the same physical reaction. He released her hand. She pulled her arm close to her chest and massaged her fingers as if they’d been burned.

This wasn’t happening, he told himself. It couldn’t be. Not with Anne Baker. Ellen had been gone two years. In all the time he’d been alone, hell in all the time he’d been married, he’d never felt like this with anyone. Never. Not even with Ellen.

“Jake, I—”

“Don’t say a damn thing,” he commanded. He turned until he was facing straight ahead and rested his elbows on his knees. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t anything. Just weather, or static electricity or—

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“Are you denying—?”

“Yes.” It was, he decided, an aberration of nature. He didn’t care for curvy women, he hated freckles, except for Laurel’s, and had never been attracted to a redhead. He glanced at Anne. Her hair wasn’t even red. It was a paler color.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Have it your way.”

“Can you explain it?”

“No, but at least I’m willing to admit it exists.”

Before he could answer, Laurel came up the stairs and walked over to them.

“How was the skating?” he asked, grateful for the interruption.

“Terrific.” She spun in a circle. “I wish I could do that.” When her turn was complete, she leaned against the railing and stared at him. “Dad, I’ve been thinking.”

Ever since Laurel had mentioned wanting to find her birth mother, he’d been carrying around a knot in his gut. At her casual phrase, the knot tightened a notch.

“About?”

Tm not ready to leave.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s not even six. I thought we’d have dinner here before—”

She slowly shook her head. “I’m not ready to leave Houston.”

He shot Anne a glance, but her confused expression told him this was as much of a surprise to her. “School is starting in a few days,” he said. “We have to head back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I love you, Daddy, but I want to stay here. With Annie.”

Chapter 4

A
nne told herself to close her mouth. She could feel it hanging open. No doubt she looked as shocked as she felt. She couldn’t move or speak. Good thing, because the malevolence in Jake’s gaze was enough to send her running for cover. Laurel wanted to stay with her?

“Please don’t be mad,” Laurel said to her father and twisted her hands together.

“I’m not.” The anger faded from his expression, leaving behind intense pain, then he blinked and there were no emotions at all. “What brought this on?”

“I just met Annie, and now we’re going to leave.” Laurel gave her a smile that quivered a little at the corners. “I know you have to go back because of the ranch and all, but I could stay. I could go to school here. I know you didn’t like my friends back home, but I’d be getting new ones here. Just for a little while, Daddy. Just so I can spend some time with Annie.” She spoke quickly as if she could convince her father by the volume and speed of her words.

Anne stared down at the pile of packages, then at the people walking by, and finally at Jake. She waited but he never jumped up and accused her of having planned this with his daughter. She was grateful for that. Laurel wanted to stay with her. She had to bite down hard on her lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Her daughter wanted to stay with her. It was a dream come true. Better than a dream because it was actually happening.

She glanced over at Jake and saw he was leaning back on the bench as if everything was fine. Her gaze dropped to his lap where his hands rested on his worn jeans. His fists were clenched so tightly, she thought his skin might split. Confusion, hurt and a desperate need radiated out from him. She could feel his emotions pounding against her like waves against the shore. Suddenly her own lighthearted joy began to fade. What would Laurel’s staying do to Jake?

“Anne has a full-time job,” he said, his voice low and controlled.

Work. Anne shook her head. She hadn’t thought about that.

“So do you,” Laurel said. She shifted until her feet were spread, then placed her hands on her hips. “Da-ad,” she said, drawing the word out to two syllables. “I’m old enough to stay on my own until Annie gets home from work. I’ve done it before.”

“It’s more than just child care,” Jake said. He ignored the way his daughter huffed at the phrase. “She probably goes to her office early and stays late. Who’s going to take you to school? Cook your dinner? Help you with homework? What about your horse?”

What about me? He didn’t ask that question, but Anne heard it all the same. What about him? What about her taking in a thirteen-year-old who she knew

nothing about? The sense of responsibility overwhelmed her. Yet even as she thought of a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea, a part of her screamed Yes, I want the chance to get to know my daughter.

“Your father is right,” Anne said, speaking for the first time since Laurel’s announcement. “There are a lot of practical considerations.”

“You have a spare bedroom,” Laurel said. “I know. I checked when we were at your place for dinner.” She looked pleadingly at Anne. “Don’t you want me to be with you?”

Jake cut her off. “Laurel, I’ve tried to explain why it’s not possible for you to stay with Anne Baker. We’re leaving for Colorado in the morning. End of discussion. Now finish your shopping or go up to the room. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

The cold anger in his voice made Anne want to cower back against the bench, but Laurel was unaffected. She leaned closer to her father.

“I’m not going back with you,” she said loudly. “You can’t make me.”

A couple of shoppers gave them odd looks, then hurried past.

“Dammit, Laurel.” He rose to his feet. “Stop acting like a child.”

“You just said I was a child. That I needed someone to take care of me after school.” Tears threatened. “Annie, you want me to stay with you, don’t you?”

Father and daughter turned to look at her. Brown eyes flecked with gold dared her to interfere and promised swift, angry retribution if she did. Big hazel eyes framed by thick lashes begged for a hint of caring and support. Slowly Anne rose to her feet. She told herself she was the stranger here, and it was up to her to remain calm. It wasn’t easy. Part of her wanted to pull Laurel close and admit she would love the girl to stay with her. Part of her was practical and wondered what on earth she was going to do with a thirteen-year-old. And a small part of her, a piece of her heart, back in the place that was familiar with pain and loss, ached for Jake.

“Laurel, this isn’t something we should be discussing right here and now. Let’s go back to your room and we can—”

Laurel turned on her father. “You’re making her say those things. I know you are. She wants me to stay with her. I know she does.” Tears streamed down her face. She brushed them away impatiently. Several people stopped to stare.

“Laurel, he’s not making me say anything.”

“I don’t need your help,” Jake said, glaring at her. “You’ve done enough.” He moved close to Laurel and put his arm around her shoulders.

She shrugged it off. “You’re doing this on purpose, Dad. I know you are.” Her voice caught. She sniffed and wiped her face again. “I know the truth. You didn’t think I would figure it out, but I did. Annie loves me. She’s always loved me. You

stole me from her. She didn’t want to let me go, but you made her. You and Mom.” She stood stiffly, with her arms at her sides. Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks. Her skin was blotchy and her freckles stood out like painted dots.

Anne’s heart went out to her. So much pain in one teenage child. They were all hurting in different ways.

Jake spun toward her. “Is this what you tell her when my back is turned? What the hell kind of lies are you—?”

“Don’t talk to Annie that way,” Laurel said, coming to stand in front of her father. “She didn’t have to tell me. I figured it out on my own. You stole me from my birth mother.”

The crowd around them was getting larger by the second. Anne felt a heated blush climbing her cheeks. She didn’t like being the center of attention. She bent toward the bench and grabbed an armful of packages. “Here.” She thrust them at Laurel. Quickly she picked up the rest, then slipped her purse strap up over her shoulder. “Can we please continue this upstairs in your hotel room?”

Jake glanced around as if just realizing the interested group hovering nearby. He took Laurel’s arm and led her through the crowd toward the elevators. Anne followed behind.

The ride up to the room was accomplished in silence, except for Laurel’s muted sniffs and the rustling of paper bags. Jake opened the hotel room door, then stepped inside. He walked over to the window overlooking downtown Houston and stood there, his back to the room.

Must be a favorite position of his, Anne thought, dropping her packages into a wing chair. Staring out into the great beyond like some cattle baron of the 1800s. Damn. Now what was she supposed to do?

Laurel let her bags fall to the floor. “Annie?” she said, then burst into tears.

Anne reacted without thinking. She opened her arms and, when Laurel threw herself against her, she hugged the girl close. “It’s going to all work out,” she said softly, hoping she wasn’t lying.

“No, it’s not,” Laurel said between sobs, her voice muffled against Anne’s shoulder. “It’s not. He won’t let me stay with you. But I have to.” She raised her head. Those familiar hazel eyes, her own mother’s eyes, stared back at Anne. “Don’t let him take me away again. Please.”

“Oh, baby.” Anne brushed her fingers against her daughter’s cheek. For the first time in her life, she felt the warm skin and the dampness of Laurel’s tears. She squeezed her tight, loving the lankiness of her daughter’s growing body. She was going to be a beauty, but right now she was a confused, overemotional teenager.

“You look like a wet chipmunk,” Anne said, teasingly.

Laurel raised her head. “My eyes and mouth get all puffy when I cry, huh?” She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“I get puffy, too,” Anne said. She touched her arm, briefly. “You’ve really dropped a bomb here, kid. I need to talk to your dad. Why don’t you take your new clothes into your room, wash your face, then try everything on again to make sure you really want to keep it.”