Cowboy for Keeps (19 page)
Authors: Cathy McDavid
Inside the drab concrete-block building of the Department of
Children and Family Services, Ty made his way between movable partitions that
divided a large room into cubicles the size of Ranger's stall. Reaching an open
area, he nodded to a little boy who looked up from the building he was creating
out of small, red bricks. The child scrambled to his feet.
“Are you a real cowboy?” the boy asked, his mouth hanging
open.
Ty glanced around to see if the boy's mother was close by, but
there was no one within hailing distance. If Millie had stuck around, they'd
probably have a passel of their own by now. But it hadn't worked out and he
didn't know much about kids. This one was still staring so Ty twirled his best
Stetson on one finger.
“You got me, kiddo. You like the boots?” He kicked out a
foot.
“Uh-huh,” the boy said. His head swung toward the end of the
corridor. “Where's your horse?”
Ty let his voice deepen into a John Wayne-like gravel. “Back at
the ranch.”
“Oh.” The little boy's shoulders slumped and with a wistful
look down the hall, he turned and went back to his toys.
Ty ran a hand through his freshly washed hair and watched the
kid's retreating back. Beyond the plain white walls, clear skies and balmy
breezes had combined to make a perfect day on Florida's east coast. Why, then,
wasn't the boy outside learning to ride a two-wheeler instead of cooped up in
this office breathing stale recycled air? He shrugged, and with a final wave at
the kid, moved farther down the hall.
Sarah Magarity's name hung outside a workspace slightly larger
than the rest. Flowers perfumed her empty office, and he bent over pink blossoms
whose fragrance reminded him of tropical islands and swaying palm fronds. He
inhaled, appreciating the change from the odors of horse and cow, hay and sweat
that usually filled his days. He glanced around, hoping to get a better sense of
the woman who'd insisted on the meeting, but she didn't keep photographs on her
desk. Rolling his hat brim through his hands, he settled onto a vacant chair and
tried without success to block out the incessant ringing of telephones.
At last, he glanced into the corridor in time to catch sight of
a slender foot wearing an open-toed shoe. The footwear was completely
impractical, but it was pretty, and as its owner appeared in the doorway, his
gaze rose past elegant ankles and trim calves to a loose-fitting business suit
that effectively camouflaged womanly curves. He stood, extending a hand as he
let his gaze wander Sarah Magarity's face. The hazel eyes that met his filled
with unexpected emotion when her warm hand pressed into his grasp.
She swallowed visibly. “Mr. Parker, I know we didn't part under
the best of circumstances last time, but I appreciate your coming in today.
Please, take a seat.”
“Most folks call me Ty.” He remained on his feet until she was
settled behind her desk.
“And I'm Sarah.” She smiled one of those vague smiles people
give when their thoughts are somewhere else.
Still wondering why she had demanded his presence, Ty waited
while she opened a blue-edged folder and flipped through several
official-looking documents.
“Mr. ParkerâTy,” she said, looking up from the papers. “You
were married to Millicent Gage, weren't you?”
“Millie?” Ty frowned. As far as expected topics of conversation
went, his ex-wife was pretty far down on the list. He hadn't seen the woman in
nearly six years, hadn't given her more than an occasional thought in the past
two or three. He met Sarah's eyes. The concern he read there made him uneasy
enough that he shifted in his chair.
“Ty,” she said softly. “I'm afraid I have some sad news.”
Sarah paused long enough for his mind to form a hundred
different questions. Across from him, she drew in a breath so deep it made her
chest swell.
“I'm very sorry to have to tell you that your ex-wife,
Millicent, passed away a few months ago.”
Millie. Dead?
Ty shook his head, trying to wrap his thoughts around the idea
that the woman who'd been his childhood sweetheart was gone.
“How? Where?” he managed to ask.
“In New York. Apparently, she was mugged.”
Nodding to himself, Ty absorbed this piece of news. Millie's
hunger for more than a quiet life on the Circle P had driven them apart. He'd
always hoped that she'd found someone else. Someone who would give her a brick
house in the city, like the one she'd wanted him to buy. He brushed his hand
over his face. Moisture had gathered in his eyes. He wiped it away and
sighed.
Rising, he began, “Ms. Magarity⦔
“Sarah, please,” she interrupted.
He tried again. “Sarah. If that's why you called me here, you
could have delivered that news over the phone and saved both of us some
trouble.”
“No, I couldn't.”
“Why not? Millie walked out of my life a long time ago. I'm
sorry she passed on, but it doesn't make sense that I'd have to come here so you
could tell me about it.”
He shook his head, cursing his foolishness for even considering
that Sarah Magarity might be interested in him. Whatever he'd been thinking
about her, he'd been wrong. The woman was so argumentative, she couldn't even
deliver the news about his ex-wife without disagreeing with him.
Behind her desk, Sarah stood. Her soft features hardened.
“Aren't you even going to ask about your son?” she demanded harshly.
“Myâ¦
What?
” Ty's knees bent. His
backside hit the chair again, this time hard enough to hurt.
ISBN: 9781460307120
Copyright © 2013 by Cathy McDavid
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been
granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of
this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented,
without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises
Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by
arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ⢠are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ®
are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian
Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
