“What are you thinking, Hank?”
He started at the question, his guilty gaze snapping toward Gemma, who still stood in front of the door, arms crossed over her chest. “Uh, what?”
“What were you thinking?” she repeated. “Janie was so excited to show you her new look.”
Hank was hit by a double dose of guilt. Since stepping foot inside Gemma’s suite, he hadn’t been thinking of his daughter at all. But now the remembered shock reverberated through him again, knocking the wind from him just as it had when Janie had raced across the lobby. Looking so grown-up, looking just like—
“Hank?” Some of the starch went out of Gemma’s shoulders as her arms dropped to her sides.
Shaking off the thought, he told Gemma, “Janie isn’t allowed to wear makeup until she’s thirteen.”
Though she didn’t say anything, Gemma’s single raised eyebrow spoke volumes. No doubt she felt him as old-fashioned and out of touch, as his daughter had accused him of being. Even to his own ears, the argument sounded stupid because the makeup hadn’t been the problem.
Instead of arguing, Gemma stepped closer and said, “I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t know, and I should have talked to you first.”
“You didn’t know, but Janie did.”
“True, but you have to admit, staying at Maverick Manor is a special occasion. This is a big deal for her, and besides—” Gemma gave a sudden sigh “—there’s this boy.”
“Wait—this is about some boy?” Hank demanded.
“No,” Gemma said with an expression of infinite patience, “this is about Janie...with a teeny, tiny dash of mean-girl one-upmanship thrown in.”
“Mean-girl...what?”
“Mean girls. You know, the ones who...” Her voice trailed off as she gave him a look of hopelessness she could have copied from his daughter. “You really don’t watch much television, do you?” Waving a hand that had her bracelets clinking around her wrist, she said, “Never mind all that. Yesterday, during their kids’ outing, Janie offered to help the other kids bait the hooks and show them how to fish.”
“Yeah, she told me about that.”
“Well, what she may not have told you is that some of the other girls were making fun of her for knowing so much about something that only boys know how to do.”
“That’s ridiculous.” While Hank considered himself every bit the gentleman—and did certainly consider some jobs as belonging to men—there was nothing about casting a line that was too dangerous or demanding for a female to handle. “Girls are perfectly capable of fishing.”
“Thank you... I think. But these girls were teasing Janie about being a tomboy. Janie wants to see herself as more of a girlie girl, but she doesn’t know where to start. And as much as she loves you, Hank, you are not the person anyone would go to when it comes to being a girlie girl.”
“Well, thank you... I think,” he said with a smile that faded quickly. He hated the idea of anyone hurting his little girl—even so much as hurting her feelings.
Which, he realized with a quick punch to the gut, was exactly what he had done.
“Yesterday Janie was just a little girl. My little girl. And now—”
“Oh, Hank, do you really think a bit of makeup is going to change that? Janie loves you. She will always be your little girl.”
“You don’t get it, Gemma. You don’t know—”
“Know what?”
“Janie isn’t mine!”
The words whipped out before Hank could stop them, and Gemma stepped back, flinching at the sharp and sudden recoil. “Janie’s...what?”
With the admission sapping the strength out of him, Hank sank onto the couch. “Janie isn’t my daughter.”
Gemma’s green eyes widened, and he expected to see pity shining from their emerald depths. Instead a righteous anger blazed there. “You’re saying that Anne—”
Knowing what Gemma was thinking, he shook his head. “She didn’t cheat on me, and she never lied. She was pregnant when we met and married. But she told me right up front, so I knew all along.”
And he hadn’t cared. With all they had in common—their desire to live in a small town, their love of ranch life, their love of animals—Hank had thought Anne would be the perfect wife. And when he learned she was pregnant, that only seemed like even more of a reason for them to wed. “But no one else did. As far as everyone in Rust Creek Falls knew, I was Janie’s dad. But then Daniel Stockton came back to town. Back into Anne’s life...and into Janie’s.”
Gemma sucked in a quick breath. “Her other dad... When Janie said that, I thought she meant her stepfather.”
Hank shook his head. “I’m the stepfather, and a former one at that.”
“You were—you are her father, Hank.” Sitting beside him on the couch, she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Biology isn’t enough to erase all those years when you were there for her when her real father was not. You were the one to rock her to sleep and teach her to dance. You were the one to buy her her first pony and show her how to ride.”
“I thought I’d worked through all this when Dan first came back two years ago. Hell, I was even the one to walk Anne down the aisle when they got married.”
“But now things are changing again,” Gemma surmised, surprising him with her insight, though Hank didn’t know why. Hadn’t she known just what it would take to get him out on the dance floor? And hadn’t she sensed what would make Janie, his own daughter, feel more confident and self-assured?
“She calls him ‘Dad’ now,” Hank confessed hollowly, his hands hanging between his thighs. “I mean, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t. Since he came back, Dan has done everything he said he would. He’s been a part of Janie’s life, getting to know her, making up for lost time, and he is her father. Seeing her today... I always thought she took after Anne. The two of them look so much alike, but when I saw Janie running across the lobby, it hit me. She looks exactly like Dan’s sister Bella did when she was a teenager.”
He shook his head. “She’s a Stockton through and through. There’s no denying it.” Even though a part of him still wanted to.
“It takes far more than DNA to make a family, Hank. You know that.”
“That’s what I tell myself. Most days I believe it.”
“And those other days?”
“On the bad days, I can’t help remembering how it felt to be married to Anne—knowing she loved another man more, a man who eventually took my place as her husband and as Janie’s dad.”
Her hand tightened on his arm, the touch no longer gentle but firm with conviction. “I said before that Janie was a lucky girl, and that was before I knew the half of it. My father died before my fourth birthday. I don’t have any memories of him, and my stepfather shipped me off to boarding school as soon as he could.”
Hank didn’t know what to say, even as the missing pieces fell into place. Gemma’s father was a cowboy but he’d never had the chance to teach her how to ride. He’d been born in Montana, but he hadn’t been around to introduce her to the close-knit community of Rust Creek Falls. And the man who’d had the opportunity—the chance, the gift—of taking his place in Gemma’s life had sent her away instead. “Gemma...I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I’m telling you so that you’ll realize how blessed Janie is. Yes, she has Anne and Dan, but she has you. And she loves you, Hank. Why do you think she’s trying so hard to set us up? It’s because she worries about you. She knows what a great guy you are. And she knows any woman to catch your eye would be almost as lucky as she is.”
* * *
Gemma forced herself to meet the summer-sky blue of Hank’s gaze as she said the words, unwilling to give away how she wished she could be that lucky. How she wished she could be that woman. Though he might have been a little rusty on the outs
ide, inside Hank Harlow had a heart of gold.
She never would have known, never would have guessed Janie wasn’t his daughter. How could she have when he clearly loved her with everything he was? Biology... DNA... Those connections had nothing over heart and soul.
Her own stepfather had never made her feel like anything more than an unwanted by-product of what he called her mother’s “youthful indiscretion.” A mistake to be sent away—out of sight, out of mind.
As if reading her thoughts, he ran his fingers through her freshly cut hair. He tucked a lock behind her ear before fingering the long chandelier earring she wore. “You look beautiful. I should have told you that.”
“You should have told Janie that.”
“You’re right.” His eyes crinkled a bit in a self-deprecating smile, but he sobered quickly. “It’s not too late, you know.”
“To tell Janie how beautiful she looks?”
Hank shook his head, the intensity in his gaze causing nerves to take flight in her belly. “For you to decide that you like cowboy boots and Stetsons and horseback riding. It’s not too late for you to be whoever or whatever you want to be.”
He would love her enough to let her be whoever or whatever she wanted to be?
No, that wasn’t what he was saying. It was crazy to even think that was what he was saying! Hank was simply being Hank. The good guy who had encouraged her despite her city-girl ignorance.
“What I want...is to be with you.” Gemma all but whispered the words. She didn’t toss her hair; she didn’t flash a smile; she didn’t throw down a challenge like she had when she offered to help him shake some rust off. She wasn’t trying to hide her hurt, because her honeymoon for one had done more than Gemma might have hoped. Thanks to the handsome rancher seated beside her, it was helping her heal.
You deserve a woman who will love you for exactly who you are.
His blue eyes widened, and for a brief, heart-stopping second, she feared she’d said the words out loud. “I want to be with you, too,” he murmured, his deep voice husky as he responded to the words she actually had said.
Gemma swallowed against her dry throat as she voiced the word he hadn’t spoken. “But...”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened, a hint of humor had replaced the heat she’d seen shining there. “I’ve got a ticked-off girl locked in the bathroom of our suite, and I’m really hoping I won’t have to call security to break the door down.”
* * *
In the end, calling security wasn’t necessary. The door that had been locked against Hank opened quickly when Gemma asked if she could come in.
“Only you,” Janie insisted through the small crack along the jamb. “Not my dad.”
Gemma shot Hank a sympathetic but encouraging smile as she slipped into the bathroom. Janie scrubbed at the tears streaking her cheeks as she sat down on the edge of the tub. “I’m not supposed to wear makeup until I turn thirteen,” she confessed.
That was something she might have told Gemma sooner, but there was no sense pointing that out now. Reaching over, she plucked a tissue from the holder on the counter before settling onto the tub, beside the girl. “Well, there’s something I forgot to tell you, too,” she said gently as she passed her the tissue. “There’s no crying in makeup. Tears will have that mascara running down your face in no time, and you’ll end up looking like a crazy clown.”
Just as Gemma hoped, Janie let out a little laugh as she wiped at her eyes. “I really thought my dad would think I looked pretty.”
“Your dad thinks you are beautiful, inside and out, makeup or no makeup. In fact, he told me when he first saw you that he thought you looked just like your aunt Bella.”
“Bella’s nice and really pretty.” Janie’s cheeks turned a little pink. “My dad said I looked like her?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Everyone always said I looked like my mom but then...”
“Then your other dad came back to town.” At Janie’s nod, Gemma asked, “Does he have any other brothers and sisters?”
Janie nodded. “There’s Luke and Bailey and Jamie and Dana and Liza.”
“That’s a lot of aunts and uncles.”
“I have cousins, too.” As Janie told Gemma about her uncle Jamie’s triplets, her tears quickly dried. “They’re so cute and funny.”
“Sounds like you have a really big family.”
“Yeah. At first it was weird. I mean, for so long it was just me and my mom and dad...” Janie crumpled the tissue in her hand. “My dad Hank.”
“He loves you very much.”
“I’m—I’m kinda all he’s got, you know.”
Gemma’s heart ached a bit at the sincerity in the young girl’s eyes and at the truth in her words. “I know, so do you think maybe you can forgive him for holding on to you a little too tight?”
At Janie’s jerky nod, Gemma went to open the bathroom door to find Hank standing right on the other side. His hair was mussed as he ran his fingers through it for what was clearly not the first time. But it was the look in his eyes—the shadowed reminder of the words he’d spoken earlier—that grabbed hold of Gemma’s heart.
Janie’s not my daughter.
Gemma could only imagine how devastated Hank must have been when Janie’s biological father had returned a few years ago, but by her guess, those shadows stretched far longer than that.
Hadn’t she always wondered about her biological father? Even though she’d known he was dead and that he would never be a part of her life, believing for so long that he had never been a part of her life, she had still wondered.
How much worse must it have been for Hank wondering about Janie’s father? Knowing the man was alive and well, not just out in the world somewhere but also in his wife’s heart?
Oh, Hank...
Just last night they had laid out the terms for their no-strings affair. So why was her heart already urging her to break all the rules?
Chapter Eight
“This is punishment, isn’t it?” Hank demanded the following morning. “Even though I said I was sorry, you’re both out to torture me. That’s just cruel.”
Gemma and Janie exchanged smiles at his hangdog expression before they each grabbed an arm and started dragging him from the crowded parking lot. “Come on, Dad. It’s just the mall.”
“Oh, no!” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Not the mall!”
Janie giggled and pulled him harder toward the sprawling shopping center. He wasn’t one for buying forgiveness, but Gemma’s words had stuck with him. If his daughter was growing up, if she was changing from a tomboy to a girl who liked clothes and makeup, then he could man up and be the dad who would take her shopping for those things.
Oh, he had no doubt once Gemma was back in New York that Janie would likely prefer to make these trips to Kalispell with Anne, but he wanted Janie to know that he would take her. That he would do anything for her.
Even go to the mall.
“Relax, Hank,” Gemma said as they stepped through the automatic doors of the largest department store. “It’s the middle of the day on a Thursday. It’s not like we’ll be fighting the Christmas rush.”
“Don’t remind me,” he replied as Janie rushed ahead of them toward the junior section. “I still have nightmares from last December.”
“Last-minute shopping?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Gemma shook her head. “Men...will you never learn?”
“I think I might...as long as you’re around to teach me.” But of course he and Janie were checking out of the hotel on Saturday, and Gemma would only be around for another week. That would be a crash course no matter what subject he was studying. Which, at the moment, was his favorite subject of all. He’d never been much of a student, but he could write essays about the way her dark lash
es fanned across her porcelain cheekbones as she lowered her gaze. Compose poetry about the flecks of gold in her emerald eyes. Capture the perfect shape of her lips in any medium possible—sculptor’s clay, painter’s oils, a photographer’s camera. Or best of all, with his own mouth molding, shaping and memorizing her lips with his own.
Seeming all too aware of the quick passage of time, Gemma murmured, “I hope you’re a fast learner.”
“I think you will find me a highly motivated student.”
“Hey, Dad, Gemma, check this out!”
Motivated or not, their lessons would have to wait as they turned their attention to Janie, who was holding up a black-and-white geometric-print shirt, similar to one of Gemma’s.
“I love it!” Gemma exclaimed. “Do they have it in my size?”
“No, silly, this one’s for me!”
Gemma gave his arm a final squeeze before she headed over to Janie’s side. As she tilted her head toward Janie, her long dark hair the perfect contrast to his daughter’s short blond locks, Janie’s words echoed in his mind.
She’s the one for me.
* * *
Hank wasn’t sure when the two females in his life turned their gazes from the pink- and purple- and floral-draped mannequins and centered on him, but he definitely felt caught in the crosshairs as they steered him toward the menswear section. Janie already had her hands filled with shopping bags after their successful foray into the junior department, and Hank was more than ready to head for the food court or the exit.
“Oh, no!” he protested when he spotted the bizarre headless male mannequins draped in some of the most garish prints he’d ever seen. “No way. Do you have any idea what would happen if I wore a shirt like that on the ranch?” he asked, gesturing toward a hot-pink polo. “I’d lose all the horses’ respect, and the cattle would take one look and start a stampede. If I’m going shopping, and that’s a big if, it’ll be at Crawford’s.”
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