Operation Cowboy Daddy

by Carla Cassidy

  He and Joey had become permanent residents in the house a week ago and it had been the best week in Tony’s life. Gone were the ghosts of his past, vanished was the bitterness that had once filled his soul.

  Mary’s love had healed him, as he hoped his love had done the same for her. He would go through his miserable childhood all over again if it meant that he would now be here with her. She still took his breath away with a simple smile.

  “Is anyone going to open that or are we going to sit around and stare at it all evening?” Halena asked. She reached up and straightened the turban on her braided hair.

  Tony leaned forward and picked up the envelope. “You know it doesn’t matter to me what the test shows.” He looked down at Joey, who laughed and drooled down his chin. Tony’s heart expanded in his chest. “I love Joey no matter what. I intend to be his father for the rest of his life.” Still, there was no question that things would be easier if the test revealed that Joey was Tony’s biological son.

  Mary leaned over and took his hand in hers. “No matter what happens we’ll fight for him.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then released it.

  Yes, they would jump through whatever bureaucratic hoops they needed to in order to keep Joey in their lives. They would deal with any red tape that might come with legally adopting him.

  He was surprised that his fingers trembled as he tore open the envelope. Nervous tension welled up inside him. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly.

  For just a moment memories of Amy rushed through his head. When Joey got old enough, Tony would tell him about his mother, about the good qualities she’d possessed.

  But Mary would be the mother who would bake cookies and tuck him in at night. She would provide the soft touches, the unconditional love of a true mother.

  And Halena? She would be the grandmother who all his friends envied, the one who would tell him stories and make him laugh and probably embarrass him on more than one occasion.

  “I’m getting older by the minute,” Halena said impatiently.

  Tony pulled out the sheet of paper that would answer the question. Was it him...or was it Ash?

  He read the paper—99.998. That was the percentage that declared Tony to be Joey’s biological father. Rich emotion pressed so tightly in his chest he couldn’t speak.

  “Well?” Halena leaned forward.

  “It’s me,” he gasped. “Thank God, it’s me.” He laughed with sheer exhilaration and jumped up from the sofa. He reached down and picked up Joey in his arms and began to dance around the room.

  “I’m your daddy, Joey.” He reached out and grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her up. “And this is your mama and we’re going to have a wonderful life together.”

  He grabbed Mary around her waist and pulled her close enough to kiss her. When the kiss ended, her eyes shone with promise and love and his heart had never been so full.

  “I’ll be right back. I have a little surprise,” Halena said.

  “Should we be afraid?” Tony asked when Halena disappeared down the hallway.

  “Maybe a little,” Mary replied with a grin. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped Joey’s drool from his chin.

  “It’s definitely a hat kind of a day,” Halena said as she returned to the room. Now she wore a yellow hat that resembled a large bird’s nest and she had her hands behind her back.

  “You aren’t going to make me wear a hat, are you?” Tony asked suspiciously.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t want to detract from your natural handsomeness,” she replied with a grin. She walked over to where Tony stood with Joey in his arms.

  “Joey, I’m your grandmother and it’s my job to teach you to love Mexican food and listen to the leaves on the trees and know when it’s a good day for a hat.”

  She pulled out a tiny brown felt cowboy hat that closely resembled Tony’s cowboy hat and she put it on Joey’s head. “And now you are truly your father’s son. And that’s that.”

  Joey laughed and tilted his head as if showing off his new hat. And then they were all laughing and hugging and Tony knew he was finally home. He had a woman he loved with all his heart, another woman who would keep them all on their toes and the little boy who had turned him into a father.

  Yes, he was finally home and he had a feeling big Cass and Amy were together and smiling down on them all from Heaven.

  He gazed at Mary and Halena and then back at his son. This was his circle of love.

  * * *

  Dillon finished reading over the final report of the action that had occurred at the Holiday ranch and then leaned back in his chair and sighed.

  It had been damned lucky that more people hadn’t died that night. Thankfully Tony had survived and Sawyer had suffered only a minor wound to the shoulder. Things could have been so much worse.

  Of course, Ash was dead and two of his men had been hospitalized. Once the two were well enough, they’d be transported from the hospital to jail to await sentencing on charges serious enough they wouldn’t be bothering anyone else for a very long time.

  Dillon had interviewed Mary and Tony in his investigation into Ash’s death, but no charges would be brought against Tony. He’d acted in self-defense and Dillon was glad Ash Moreland was dead.

  Since the tornado that had taken Cass’s life and the arrival of Cassie Peterson in town, the universe had been in chaos. Dillon had been embroiled in more crimes in the past five months than he had been in the last five years.

  He’d had to contend with a crazed ex-husband threatening Cassie’s best friend, a murderous assistant attempting to kill the forensic anthropologist who had come to deal with the skeletal remains of the murdered young men and a deadly stalker who had nearly killed Trisha Cahill.

  And that didn’t account for the usual crimes that occasionally occurred in a small town. He was exhausted, but pleased that Tony and Mary no longer had to worry about somebody coming after them.

  Hopefully things would go back to normal around town and he would get a breather. He closed his eyes and for a moment a sense of peace wafted through him.

  It lasted only a moment as the tormented cries of seven unsolved murder victims screeched in his head.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this novel, don’t miss other suspenseful titles by New York Times bestselling author

  Carla Cassidy:

  COWBOY AT ARMS

  COWBOY UNDER FIRE

  COWBOY OF INTEREST

  A REAL COWBOY

  Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COLTON FAMILY RESCUE by Justine Davis

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  Colton Family Rescue

  by Justine Davis

  Chapter 1

  “You made him smile again.”

  Jolie Peters glanced up at Mandy Allen as she paused by her prep counter. The server never failed to pass on little tidbits like that, and it made her job—and the fillips she’d added to it of her own volition—worthwhile.

  “Thanks, Mandy.”

  It was a simple enough thing, an extra swirl of the house’s famous barbecue sauce on the rim of the plate was standard presentation, but it was Jolie who had had the idea of doing it in the initials of their regulars. And the staff was always careful to give the plate the right orientation so the customer couldn’t miss it.

  “And Mrs. Sandoval really liked the monkfish. I told her you suggested it, because she likes lobster, and she said to pass along her thanks.”

  Jolie’s smile widened. “Thanks. I really appreciate hearing that.”

  And she did. It would have been easy enough for Mandy to have implied the suggestion was her own, but the woman was scrupulously honest.

  “Peters!” She turned at the call from Martine Amaro, the woman responsible for keeping the back of the house running smoothly, which she did with the efficiency of a twenty-year drill sergeant. “Garza is here. You’re done.”

  “With two minutes to spare,” she muttered as she headed to the employee room, pulling off and dropping the crisp white apron and cap into the laundry cart on the way. Because heaven forbid she should run into overtime.

  She immediately apologized silently to the woman who was in charge of keeping things moving. Not only had she hired her when many wouldn’t, but Mrs. Amaro had been more than fair, had allowed her to adjust her hours to be in keeping with Emma’s day care, and when there were leftovers to be doled out, she made sure a portion was saved for Jolie even if she was off shift.

  She wasn’t getting rich, but she was getting by. Her apartment was in an old building and not in the greatest area, but it had been renovated recently enough. Her car was a decade old but reliable. Most important, her daughter’s day care was close enough to walk to for lunch, well staffed and utterly trustworthy. Between the cost for it and her rent, she had little extra, but she was content. She had, after all, come a very long way.

  “See you for a moment, Ms. Peters?”

  Uh-oh.

  The reaction to Mrs. Amaro’s words was instinctive. Things had been going well here, and she thought she was all right, but nothing in her life had ever stayed right for long, except Emma. Jolie had been here nearly a year, but she never took anything good for granted. She never expected anything good to last. Because in her experience, it never did.

  As she walked toward the office, her mind was racing. If she lost this job, what would she do? She was finally at ease, if not happy with her life. It had been a long, difficult trek to get to that point. Was it now going to blow up in her face? She’d been honest about her past, so at least there was nothing there to come back and bite her. She—

  “Sit down,” the older woman directed.

  Jolie sat. She tried to fight down the tension rising in her, but it was hard. She’d spent so much of her life in one scrape or another that she couldn’t help thinking she had—unknowingly this time—wound up in another one.

  “Relax,” Mrs. Amaro said, and smiled. She did it so rarely it took Jolie aback. It changed her entire face, made the stern, brusque woman seem kind and approachable.

  Jolie let out a breath. “I was afraid I was in trouble.”

  “Quite the opposite. You’re doing good work.”

  The last of her tension drained away, replaced by a warm relief. “Thank you.”

  “In fact,” her boss said, “you’re getting a raise.”

  Jolie nearly gaped at her. This, she would never have expected.

  “Courtesy—” Mrs. Amaro’s smile widened “—of the governor.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “He appreciated that you put his initials and campaign logo on all the plates at his fund-raiser back in July. The head of catering staff told him it was something we did for our regulars. The governor promised us his next function, and suggested whoever had thought of it should get a raise.”

  “I...wow.”

  Although she admired the governor and appreciated his graciousness to the staff, she had volunteered to work the prep for that fund-raiser mainly because the extra money would pay for Emma’s day care for the rest of the month. True, it had taken some time and practice to get the logo right, but she had liked doing it. And she was surprised the busy man had even noticed, let alone taken the trouble to say something.

  “Thank you,” Jolie said. “Thank you very much.”

  Mrs. Amaro dismissed the gratitude with a palm-out gesture, but she was still smiling. “Thank the governor.”

  Jolie couldn’t help smiling back. “I’ll just drop in this afternoon and tell him.” When the woman’s smile became a grin, she added, “But thank you, too. You’ve always been more than fair to me, and you’ve understood about Emma, and I appreciate it so much.”

  The grin changed to a thoughtful expression. Then the older woman said softly, “I was where you were once. A young mother, alone, scared, trying to get myself off a wrong path.”

  Jolie’s breath caught in her throat. It was hard to imagine Martine Amaro as anything other than in control. “I didn’t know.”

  “Not something I advertise,” she said rather gruffly. “But you’re doing well. And I think you will continue that way. You know what’s important, setting an example for your little girl.”

  “It’s the only way I know to show her how to be,” Jolie said, feeling her eyes begin to sting. She fought the tears. She would not break down, not now, when things were looking so rosy. Or perhaps that was why she was getting emotional.

  “You’ve been fighting so long you don’t trust anything good. I get that, too.”

  Someday she would love to hear this woman’s story, but she knew this wasn’t the time or the place. There was one thing she felt she had to know, though. “Your child?”

  The smile Martine Amaro gave her then warmed her to the core. “He’s twenty-three and already a licensed contractor, and I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

  “And he of you, I suspect,” Jolie said.

  “As Emma will be of you. Now, get on with you. Go buy yourself something nice.”

  Jolie laughed, warmed even more by the hope that those words would be prophetic.

  Something nice? she wondered as she headed out toward her car, pushing her dark hair back as the breeze tossed it. It had been a very long time since that possibility had been within reach. But maybe...something nice for her and Emma? The girl loved it when they wore matching things, so maybe something like that.

  As she drove the short distance, she thought about taking Emma out for dinner to celebrate. They did it so rarely it was quite the treat for the little girl, and she always behaved immaculately; more than once Jolie had been complimented on the child’s behavior by total strangers.

  She realized she was smiling. Realized with a jolt that what was making her smile was happiness. A feeling she normally didn’t experience unless she was with Emma.

  The old alarms went off in her head. Don’t trust it. Don’t trust anything.

  She’d had a very short learning curve on trust. Except it had been more like a roller coaster since her parents had di
ed, one with more downs than peaks. The first real peak had been Kevin Oberman, Emma’s father, who had convinced her he loved her and vanished the day after she’d told him about the plus sign on that little stick. The second had been the day she was hired at the Colton Ranch. Which had led to the third.

  And that one, the biggest one, followed by the longest drop, she tried never to think about. And when she couldn’t stave off the memories, she let them come in the nature of a reminder, pounding home a lesson learned the hard way.

  Don’t trust.

  She’d trusted with all her heart just once. It had been the biggest mistake she’d ever made. Even bigger than Kevin, because at least that had resulted in the child who was the sole highlight of her misbegotten life. The one person she loved without reservation, and who loved her back unstintingly.

  But those trusting, halcyon days on the Colton Ranch, when she’d briefly but so very sweetly let herself think she’d found the treasure she’d coveted since her own childhood, a real family, seemed long ago now.

  But the lesson learned was harsh and close and real, and she would do well to keep it that way. And to remember not the sweetness she’d had so briefly but the bitter ending. In fact, she would do well not to think about T. C. Colton at all but to remember every vivid, painful moment of that last meeting with his parents. Whitney and Eldridge Colton had presented a united and brutal front, and she’d been helpless to stand against them.

  Now, she thought with no small amount of pride, they might find her not quite so easy to push around. Setting that example Mrs. Amaro had talked about. She wanted Emma to be a different kind of woman, and the only way she could see to ensure that was to be what she wanted her daughter to become, to show her the way.

  Showing Eldridge and Whitney Colton they’d been wrong about her was just a bonus.

  And T.C.?

  “No,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled in to the back of the day care, where it was easier to find a place to park. “Not going there.”

  She never let herself think about that part, that he had let her go, hadn’t even come looking for her. True, she’d never answered his calls or texts—that had been part of the deal—but she’d thought he might at least be curious enough to look. And she knew him well enough to know that if he decided to look, he would find; he was not a man who gave up easily. Unless he wanted to.