Accidental Homecoming

by Sabrina York

  “One of my half brothers.”

  “What a jerk.”

  Danny shrugged. “I get it. I’m just some random yahoo, named in their grandfather’s will.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Yes.” He grinned at her frown. “But for my own peace of mind. It would feel wrong taking anything from them if I weren’t really related.”

  “So...” She blew out a sigh. “What did you inherit? The grandfather clock you were wanting?”

  He smiled at her joke, but shook his head. “It’s a lot more than that. But there’s a problem that comes with the inheritance.”

  Lizzie frowned. “What is it?”

  “In order for any of us to inherit, we all have to work the ranch for three years. I have to work the ranch for three years.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Hell, yes.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t want to be here when Emma’s in Seattle. I want to be there, for her, no matter what.”

  “They can’t make you live here.” Her eyes widened in shock. “Can they?”

  He shook his head. “If I flake, if anyone flakes, the entire family fortune goes to, apparently, the competition.”

  She gaped at him. “You’re kidding. Who writes a will like this?”

  His snort was dry. “One of my relatives, apparently.”

  “So you’re torn between helping Emma and working the ranch.”

  “Pretty much.”

  She sat for a minute, thinking this through, and then she smiled at him. “Well, I don’t see why you have to choose one or the other. I mean, you can work on the ranch and still see Emma. We’re only a few hours away. Just like you said yesterday, you are not alone anymore. I’m in this with you. We’ll make it work. For Emma.”

  His sigh, heavy though it was, lightened his soul. She was right. The two commitments were not exclusive. He could do it all.

  “And,” she said with a mischievous grin he remembered so well, “if your brother is a jerk, I’ll defend you.”

  His chuckle was brusque. “He’s pretty intimidating.”

  “I don’t care.” Damn, she was the best. Just the best friend ever.

  Except he wanted much more than friendship from Lizzie. He always had.

  * * *

  It was the hardest damn thing Danny Diem had ever done, watching Lizzie get into her car that afternoon and, with a cheerful wave, leave him. Watching her leave was never easy, but it was different this time, because this time he was going to see her again soon. They were connected again. And connected by a bond that could never be broken. A child. Their child.

  She’d sent pictures of Emma to his phone—glorious images of moments in her life he’d missed. But he still loved looking at them. Every glance made his heart swell more. All he wanted was to go to Seattle and meet his daughter. Maybe give her a hug if she wasn’t too shy.

  Was she shy? Lizzie hadn’t said.

  Suddenly his mind flooded with questions, all with no answers. What kind of cake did she like? Was she a chocolate or strawberry fan? What size shoe did she wear? What did her voice sound like? What was her favorite toy?

  Did she want a father?

  That was the big question, wasn’t it?

  Well, he only had to wait a couple of days to find out everything. First, he had to face his family again.

  As promised, Mark showed up at the hotel at five. The drive to the ranch didn’t take long. As they passed through the massive gates, and then past endless fields, Danny found himself speechless at the scope of the place. But the house was even grander. He stared at it as Mark pulled up the drive.

  “Wow.”

  It was all he could manage as he gazed at the sprawling three-story lodge-like ranch house. Beyond that, the property included several large barns, work sheds, a bunkhouse and a sprinkling of cabins.

  Mark chuckled. “Yeah. Granddad must have thought he was going to have a large family who would always live here when he built it. Most of the rooms are empty, though. Only Sam, DJ and Grandma really live here. We were hoping that Luke would move back now that...” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Now that he’s no longer in the Marines.”

  Ah. That might explain the scars. And the limp. Danny didn’t pry any further, but asked, “Don’t you live here?”

  Another chuckle. “Hell, no. I have my own place.” He pointed to one of the cabins. “It’s still on the property, but far enough away that the barking doesn’t bother Grandma.”

  “The barking?”

  “Yeah. I kind of have a lot of dogs.” And, at Danny’s curious glance, he explained, “I foster homeless pups. Aside from that, I like my privacy.” This he said with a wink. He pulled up by the portico and put the truck in Park. “Come on. I’ll give you the five-cent tour of the big house.”

  The foyer of the Stirling home was every bit as grand as its exterior, with polished wood floors that ran the length of the house, a magnificent curving staircase and a crystal chandelier holding a place of prominence above.

  Apparently, beef ranching in Washington was a prosperous thing.

  A slender young woman wearing an apron came out of the kitchen to greet them.

  “Hey, Maria! Come meet Danny Diem. He’ll be staying here awhile.”

  She nodded and offered a smile that made clear she’d noticed the family resemblance, as well, but she had the good grace not to gape. “Welcome, Danny.”

  Mark turned to him. “Maria helps take care of things around here. She’s been with us for so long, she’s practically part of the family.”

  Maria chuckled and blushed, but it was clear she was pleased.

  “She’s also helping out making meals because DJ scared away the cook.”

  “I did not scare him away,” DJ boomed from the entryway.

  Danny started because he hadn’t heard him enter.

  “You can be a little overbearing,” Mark said.

  “I am not overbearing,” DJ snapped. And then, with no preface whatsoever, he turned to Danny and clipped, “Can I see you in my office. Now.” Though it was framed as a request, it was anything but.

  Danny took a deep breath as a tangle of frustration and resentment rushed through him. Who was DJ to boss him around?

  “You’d better go,” Mark suggested. “Trust me. It’s easier in the long run.”

  Danny snorted. The way he saw it, these Stirlings needed him more than he needed them. Especially now that he was one-fifth owner of...everything.

  The prospect overwhelmed him. He’d never owned anything worth more than his ’Vette, which wasn’t saying much. The thought of having a piece of this incredible property... Well, it boggled his mind.

  The fact that they needed him was particularly helpful, though, as it gave him the motivation to saunter after DJ, as though a private chat was no big deal.

  But in truth, his gut was tight and there was a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn’t looking forward to this in the slightest.

  * * *

  The office was a large room dominated by an antique desk scattered with papers and piled with files. A credenza by the door sported a collection of expensive-looking bronze statues. One wall had bookshelves that reached to the ceiling, and there was a small sitting area before a stone fireplace.

  Naturally, DJ did not opt for the less formal venue. He took a seat behind the desk and waved at a chair across from him. This was a classic power play, and it just riled Danny further. He had to take a moment to compose himself before he sat. Or maybe he hesitated because he could tell it irked DJ. Hard to say.

  A photograph on the credenza caught his attention. He had to pick it up. Had to stare.

  “Yeah,” DJ said. “That’s my...our dad.” A handsome man, tall, lean, standing by a fence, with a huge grin on his face. It was eerie how familiar he seemed. “He must have b
een, what, about thirty-two in that photo? Right before he died.”

  “How’d he pass?” The words came out hard and sharp, all of their own accord.

  “Car accident.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “Yeah.” DJ’s expression softened, but only for a second. And then, as though he’d reminded himself of his purpose, he became stern once more. “Sit. Please.”

  Once Danny was settled, DJ steepled his fingers and stared at him over them. “So,” he said.

  “So.” Yeah. His older brother’s manner was a little annoying.

  DJ leaned forward, spearing Danny with his sharp gaze. “You’re my father’s...son.”

  His pause was long enough for Danny to fill in the blank. Irritation pricked at him. It appeared he wasn’t the only bastard in the room. He inspected his fingernails. “So everyone tells me.”

  DJ ran a hand through his hair. “It’s uncanny how much you are like him. Not just your looks. Your mannerisms, too.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Considering I never met the man.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from his tone—because, frankly, the man had never wanted to meet him—so he didn’t bother.

  DJ’s jaw tightened. “Yet here you are to collect your inheritance.”

  “Look, I had no idea what that will said. I never wanted any part of your stupid ranch.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  He could only tell the truth. “I came because I was curious.”

  “And because you need money?” There was something too knowing in DJ’s gaze. It made acid churn in Danny’s gut.

  Did he need money? Yes. But he’d be damned if he was going to beg for it. “Did I ask for your money? Did I ask for anything?” Danny crossed his arms over his chest. To hell with this guy.

  When DJ realized Danny wasn’t going to answer, he picked up a paper and perused it for a long while. When he spoke, it sent a curl of apprehension through Danny’s gut. “Mikey Gerardo. Does that name ring a bell?”

  A couple of them. Danny shifted in his seat. How had DJ found out about that?

  “He is, in fact, a Vegas loan shark. Is he not?”

  Danny narrowed his eyes, but didn’t respond. What was the point?

  “And you owe him nearly ten grand.” DJ dropped the paper and fixed his gaze on Danny. “You need to know, right here and now, I don’t just hand out stacks of money to strangers.”

  Fury rose in him. “Well, I don’t take handouts—from anyone, DJ Stirling. And I never have.”

  “But surely you can see why I’m concerned? I don’t want to bring that element into our lives.”

  Outrage and an unfamiliar kind of pain stabbed at his chest. DJ didn’t even know him, and he was already rejecting him. “That element?” he hissed.

  “How do you get so deeply in debt to a loan shark if you’re not a compulsive gambler?” Was that a smirk on his face?

  Danny set his jaw and glared at DJ. He wasn’t going to explain himself to this privileged cowboy who’d never had to scrape and finagle to survive.

  “I don’t want anything from you. Or your siblings.” Even to his own ears, he sounded petulant, but he really didn’t know what else to say.

  DJ stared at him for a minute. “Well, too bad about that, because we’re in this together now.”

  “What the hell—”

  “I’m not going to give you the money to pay off Gerardo.” Huge surprise. But then, DJ did surprise him when he added, “But I will let you work for the money.”

  Danny snorted a laugh. “Work for...my own inheritance? Gee, thanks.”

  DJ slashed at the air with his hand. “I’m not talking about the will. I’m talking about the ten grand you need to pay off this loan shark. If you work the ranch for three months—and I mean work—I’ll give you the ten grand.”

  “Three months?” He could do that. Couldn’t he? “So then you would give me the money I need to pay off Mikey free and clear—”

  DJ’s lip curled into a grin. “I think I made it plain you’d be earning it. And trust me. You will be.”

  “Right. But... Other than that, no strings?”

  The man’s expression tightened, but he shook his head. “No.”

  Danny eyed him warily. Suspicion rippled through him. This just didn’t add up. Why would DJ take the chance? Why would he give Danny what he needed and leave him free to ride off into the sunset in three months’ time, even if it meant that the others would lose everything? How did that make any sense? There had to be some kind of angle here. There always was. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d do that for me.”

  DJ leaned back in his chair and huffed a breath. “All right. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m hoping you decide to stay.”

  “Because of the inheritance.” Yeah. That made sense.

  “Sure. But also because I think it’s what the old man wanted. For us all to try to be a family. Obviously he knew about you—no one else did, by the way. It probably stuck in his craw to have a Stirling out in the world somewhere, unrecognized as such. So, in the spirit of my grandfather’s pride in the Stirling lineage, I’d like to put you on the payroll, just like everyone else. With full benefits.”

  Benefits. His pulse thrummed. “Including medical?”

  “Yup.”

  Wow. That could come in handy now. For Emma.

  But no one had ever given Danny anything. And as much as he wanted to believe, he distrusted it.

  His expression must have telegraphed as much because DJ sighed and raked back his hair. “Look, Danny. Like it or not, blood test or not, it’s pretty clear you’re my father’s son. Our brother. And Stirlings take care of their own.”

  Danny gaped at him.

  Stirlings take care of their own.

  The phrase made his throat hurt. He’d never been included like this, not ever. It was something shiny and new for him. Something a little frightening, too.

  He couldn’t deny how deeply DJ’s gesture touched him, despite his gruffness. He couldn’t admit it, either.

  His brother stood, rounded the desk and thrust out a large hand. “Deal?” His expression was hard and unyielding, but Danny sensed the hope behind it. He hated to quash it.

  He stood, as well, and faced DJ. “I... There’s something else.”

  DJ’s hand slowly dropped. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “What is it?”

  “I—I have a daughter.”

  His brother nodded. “She’s welcome to live here, too.”

  Danny shook his head and sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not that. She’s...sick.”

  “Sick?”

  “She has something called aplastic anemia. She desperately needs a bone-marrow transplant. I’m heading to Seattle tomorrow to be tested at Children’s Hospital, to see if I’m a match. That... That was the other meeting I had today. With her mother.”

  DJ’s eyebrows furrowed, as though he didn’t completely buy this story, so Danny pulled out his phone and showed him a picture of Emma. Even as he saw it again, his heart hitched. “This is her. This is Emma.”

  DJ’s Adam’s apple worked as he stared at the picture. “She’s...beautiful.”

  “She’s very sick.” As his brother’s expression wavered, he added, “Look, DJ. I’m more than happy to work this ranch for three months, three years, whatever. But I need to take care of my daughter first. I have to go to Seattle. But I promise, I’ll come back. Do all the things we talked about. I just need to take care of her first.”

  After a long moment, DJ nodded. “All right. You go take care of your daughter. Once she’s better, you’ll live here, work here, for three years, just like the will requires. And if Emma needs anything that we can provide, you let me know. Deal?” He held out his hand again.

  Danny stared at DJ, his heart filled with another unfamil
iar emotion. This one was harder to name, but it definitely made his chest ache.

  As he took his brother’s warm and callused hand, it occurred to him that this family thing might not be so disagreeable after all.

  * * *

  As soon as Lizzie awoke on Monday morning, she showered and then headed straight to the hospital to pick up Emma, who had fought off her infection and was cleared to come home. It took some effort to convince Nan to go to work instead of coming along. After all, she’d been with her sister every step of the way since Emma’s birth. But when Lizzie told her she needed time alone with Emma to talk about what had transpired with Danny, Nan understood.

  As difficult and as awkward as the conversation promised to be, it had to be had. Perhaps banana splits might help?

  Unfortunately, Emma was too smart to be fooled.

  Once they got home and Lizzie started pulling out all the necessary ingredients—including sprinkles—Emma looked up at her, over the ubiquitous Minnie Mouse mask, and sighed.

  “Honey. What’s wrong?”

  “Banana splits? Again?”

  Lizzie nearly choked. “What? I thought you loved banana splits. Look. Sprinkles.”

  “I do. But Mommy, the last time you made banana splits, it was ’cause they needed to give me those awful shots. And the time before that it was the icky-picc.” She touched her PICC line, the central catheter they’d inserted for her treatments and occasionally to aid with liquid nutrition when she was particularly ill. “And before that—”

  “All right. Okay.” So it was confirmed. She was a coward who ruthlessly used helpless banana splits to soften blows. “Let’s sit on the sofa, shall we?”

  Emma nodded and made her way into the living room as though on the way to her doom. Lizzie sat beside her and took her hand.

  Her daughter met her gaze with those beautiful brown eyes, wide and glistening with tears. “How bad is it?” she asked through a quivering mask.

  The question broke Lizzie’s heart. For one thing, after everything she’d been through, her daughter now expected bad news. For another, Lizzie wasn’t sure how bad it really was. Emma would meet her father, a man who’d never wanted a family, but now seemed resolved to it. In fact, he’d seemed excited about meeting her.