Cowboy Daddy (8 page)

Laurel’s eyes started to fill with tears again. “You’re going to make me go back with him, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to talk to your father.”

Laurel gave him a quick glance, then gathered her bags together and escaped through a door at the end of the room. When she was gone, silence filled the elegant salon.

While she was trying to figure out what on earth to say to Jake, Anne glanced around. The suite was obviously expensive. She figured a three-night stay would be more than her mortgage payment for an entire month. The huge parlor held two couches, a large entertainment unit, a wet bar by the powder room, two blue wing chairs and a dining room set in the far corner. Big windows filled one entire wall, giving a perfect view of downtown Houston. She stared out past Jake and figured if she was standing right by the window and looked to the left, she would be able to see her office building. She wondered if he knew that.

“I had no idea what she was thinking,” she said when it became obvious he wasn’t going to speak.

Jake turned away from the window, but he didn’t answer. He walked over to the wet bar and pulled open the refrigerator. After removing two cans of soda, he popped the tops on both of them, then handed her one and sat on the floral-print sofa across from the entertainment center. He stretched out his long jean-clad legs and rested his cowboy boots on the coffee table. He hadn’t worn his Stetson for their shopping trip, but despite the omission, he still looked like a cowboy come to the city.

She’d always been a sucker for a man who could fill out a pair of button-fly jeans. There was something lethal about the combination of hard man and soft denim. Even with the crisis Laurel had thrust upon them, Anne found herself itching to rub her hands up and down his thighs. Denim could transfer body heat just about better than any material she knew. That’s why she never wore it. The fabric was too much of a reminder of her weakness. Cowboys. She took a long drink of the cold soda and wondered if the day could get any worse.

“She’s only thirteen,” he said at last. He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. Lines of stress and pain tightened around his mouth. “I can’t let her go.”

“I’m not asking you to. I swear I didn’t know what she was going to say.”

He tilted his head forward and looked at her. Something dark and untrusting swirled in his brown eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Anne turned away and started walking around the room. A couple of teen magazines lay scattered by the dining room table. Pumps and athletic shoes formed a pile by Laurel’s bedroom door. An oversize T-shirt bearing the likeness of a popular cartoon cat was slung over one of the wing chairs. Anne touched it.

“I don’t know her,” she said, stroking the nightshirt. “We’ve talked on the phone three or four times. We’ve met twice. I don’t know why she thinks you and your wife stole her from me.” She looked at him. “I never said anything about that. We’ve never even discussed the adoption. I give you my word.”

“I don’t know you well enough to know if your word means a damn thing.”

He wasn’t making this any easier, but then he wasn’t trying to. She drew in a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “I’d wondered why Laurel wasn’t asking any of the hard questions. Now I know the reason.”

“Hard questions?”

“You know. Why did I give her up for adoption? Why didn’t I try to find her? That sort of thing. I was pleasantly surprised she was so accepting.”

“At least one of us is happy,” he said sarcastically. “Guess it’s all going your way. Don’t expect it to last. I don’t know where Laurel got her ideas, but you and I both know she wasn’t stolen out of her mother’s loving arms. You decided to give her up.”

He spoke the truth, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Still her discomfort would have to wait. Laurel was what mattered. She walked over to the sofa and sat on the far end. “Laurel must have seen something on TV or read it in a book,” she said, ignoring his bad temper. “I know you don’t like me or trust me. I know you didn’t want me to meet her in the first place. That’s okay. But I’d never ever do anything to hurt Laurel.” She stiffened. She’d almost said “my daughter.” That would have sent Jake over the edge for sure. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

He grimaced. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t believe that one, either.”

She resisted the urge to throw something at him. “I’m
not
the enemy.” She tucked one leg under her and shifted until she was facing him. “We have to work together and decide what’s best for Laurel.”

“We don’t have to work together at all. You don’t have any rights here. She’s coming home with me.”

“You’re just going to tell her that?”

“Yes.”

She put her soda down on the coffee table. Leaning toward him, she said, “Then you’ll lose her. Don’t let your anger at me and your fear cloud your judgment.” She reached out to touch his arm. “Please, Jake—”

Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. She could feel the strength of his fingers and the heat from his body. He turned toward her, his brown eyes blazing with fire.

“Don’t you tell me what to do with my daughter. You lost that right the day you gave her up.”

Despite the anger and dark emotion swirling between them, her body responded to his touch. Her quivering skin betrayed her. Sparks arced between the two of them. She could feel the individual imprints of his fingers as if the fire in his gaze reached down to sear her wrist.

He hated her more than he could say, he thought she’d conspired to turn his daughter against him, he correctly reminded her that she’d lost all claims to Laurel. And he could turn her on with the slightest touch. In her belly, wanting swelled, flowing higher to her breasts, and lower between her legs.

He dropped her wrist as if the fire that had been consuming her suddenly turned on him. Before she could say anything, the bedroom door opened and Laurel stepped out.

She’d washed her face and tied her hair back into a ponytail. With her scrubbed skin, and wearing a matching shorts set, she looked more like a child than a young lady. But there was a knowing sadness in her eyes.

“Daddy, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” he said, sounding weary.

“But you don’t want me to stay with Annie.”

“No, I don’t.”

Laurel lifted up her chin. “You don’t understand. And you won’t give her a chance.” She looked helplessly at Anne. “Can you explain it to him?”

“Come here, honey.” Anne beckoned the girl over. Laurel stepped between them and settled on the coffee table. She angled her body away from her father. Anne straightened in her seat and took Laurel’s hands in her own. She studied the short nails and stubby fingers. “You have Bobby’s hands,” she said without looking up. “He was a boy I liked in high school.”

“My—” Laurel glanced at Jake. She couldn’t say the word, but Anne knew what she was thinking.

“I dated him for almost two years. I thought we were in love.” She gave Laurel a quick smile but didn’t dare look at her father. “He was three years older than me. He rode in the rodeo.”

“Really?” Laurel sounded pleased. “A professional cowboy. Cool. What did he do?”

“He rode bulls.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“I know.” With the telling, the memories threatened. It was easy to keep them locked up day after day until she almost forgot she had them in storage. Now they came forward into her mind, a kaleidoscope of moments. Bobby so tall and handsome, laughing. His hot, eager young body. Her inexperienced desire to please. The devastating pain when he’d left her.

“He started doing well at local events,” she continued, “so he left to go on the national circuit. When I found—” She cleared her throat.

Laurel squeezed her hands, then released her. “It’s okay.”

The sofa cushions shifted. Anne risked a quick glance and saw Jake leaning forward to grab her soda, then he handed it to her. His brown eyes gave nothing away, but the set of his mouth was kind. He, too, was handsome. But where Bobby had still carried the soft lines of youth, Jake was a man. Hard muscles defined his broad chest and arms. Lines fanned out from his eyes. Scars marred the male beauty of his large hands, and five o’clock shadow darkened the unyielding line of his jaw.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the can. They didn’t touch and she was grateful. The soft drink soothed her throat. “When Bobby left Paradise, he also left me. Us.” She touched Laurel’s leg. “I had a full scholarship to Vassar. I’d always promised my mother I’d make something of myself, use the opportunities that she’d never been given. I promised her I’d have the life she couldn’t provide. Nobody stole you, Laurel. I gave you up.”

The girl seemed to fold in on herself. Her shoulders drooped and she rested her forearms on her legs. Jake surprised Anne by scooting forward on the sofa, picking up his daughter and pulling her onto his lap. Laurel snuggled against him, but didn’t cry.

Now Anne fought the tears. The lines had been drawn and she’d been left on the outside. Still, there was more to the story Laurel deserved to know the entire truth.

“My mother had a friend who was an attorney He told me I could choose a private adoption. That way I’d get the chance to know who was taking my baby, plus it would be easier to leave information so that if you wanted to get in touch with me when you were eighteen, you could.”

Laurel raised her head and smiled hopefully. “Really? You wanted me to find you?”

“Of course.”

Jake kissed the top of Laurel’s head. “When you’re not being a brat, you’re an okay kid. Why wouldn’t she want to know you?”

“Da-ad!” His daughter gave him a mock punch in the arm, then wiggled out of his embrace. “I understand now, Annie. Thanks for telling me.”

She looked surprisingly calm, Anne thought, and wondered when the other shoe was going to fall. “What did you understand?”

Laurel grinned. “I know my mom and dad didn’t steal me. You had to give me up. You didn’t want to, though.” She turned to her father. “See, Daddy, Annie needs me to stay with her. She’s been waiting all this time for me.”

Anne stared helplessly at Jake. “I’m only making this worse. I’m sorry. You’re her father, you tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Jake rose from the sofa and walked over to the wet bar. He opened the small refrigerator, but instead of soda, this time he pulled out a beer.

“Laurel, you’re too young to understand this.”

She spun to face him and planted her hands on her hips. “I
am
not. You just don’t want me to stay here with Annie.”

She had him dead to rights with that one, he thought. He didn’t want her to stay. He didn’t want her out of his sight ever, but that wasn’t an option. He could try to keep her safe, but he couldn’t keep her from growing up.

He took a long drink, then set the can on the counter of the bar. He had to be honest—it wasn’t her growing up that scared him, it was her growing away. These last two years. Damn.

“I know the move has been hard for you, Laurel,” he said finally “It’s been hard for me, too. But staying with Anne Baker doesn’t solve any of that.”

“Why do you have to say her name like that?” Laurel asked. “Anne Baker/” she said, her voice low and mocking. “Why don’t you like Annie?”

Because she scares me, he answered silently. Anne Baker could finish what his two years of emotional withdrawal had started. She could steal away his child. His guilty conscience told him that Laurel’s actions were a punishment for not being there when she needed him. But it had been so hard to keep it together after Ellen had died. On top of those feelings had been the nagging need for the one thing he could never have: a child of his own. What the hell kind of a man couldn’t even father a child?

“Your dad is being cautious with you, Laurel,” Anne said, rising and standing behind the girl. She rested her hands on his daughter’s shoulders. He hated the possessiveness of the gesture. “You should be pleased he cares so much.”

Jake was about to inform her that he didn’t need her help when Laurel twisted free. “He doesn’t care about me. If he cared he wouldn’t have taken me away from all my friends. He wouldn’t take me back to that horrible house. He wouldn’t take me away from you. I’m staying with Annie, Daddy.”

“You’re not and that’s final.” He slammed the can on the bar.

Father and daughter stared at each other. His heart broke in the face of her anger, but he wouldn’t let her see how she was tearing him apart. How in God’s name was he going to raise a teenage girl on his own? When had loving her more than anything ceased to be enough?

“You can’t make me,” she cried. “I’ll run away and keep running away until you can’t find me.” She tore across the room and slammed her door shut behind her.

He closed his eyes at the harsh sound. He’d earned her wrath, he acknowledged to himself. The shock of Ellen’s death, his guilt at being free of their failing marriage, the second-guessing about what he could have done differently had taken their toll. Too many nights he’d stayed alone in his study wondering, mourning, not paying attention to his growing daughter. She’d become a stranger to him. She was the only thing good and decent in his life, and he’d lost her.