The Rancher's Secret Child

by Brenda Minton

Lucy briefly touched her shoulder. The gesture was sweet, but Lissa knew that the other woman wouldn’t switch loyalties. And neither could Lissa. She’d made a promise, to do what was best for Oliver. Somehow she’d thought it would be easier. She thought she’d show up and find a man unfit to parent. What she’d found was a man who hadn’t planned to parent, but a man who was loyal and caring. It made the whole process so much harder than she’d expected.

  “Marcus is a good man,” Lucy defended. “None of us are without baggage, without a past. But few men will defend or care for their loved ones the way my brother does.”

  “I understand you feel strongly about your brother. But Oliver...” She nearly choked on the emotion that welled up from her heart.

  Lucy’s expression softened with understanding. “What was Sammy like?”

  “Not perfect. She had her baggage and her past.”

  “What was she like as a mother?”

  “She struggled.” Lissa looked down at the tile floor. “But she loved her little boy.”

  “I’m sure she did. But I’m also sure that you love him, too.”

  “I do.” She swiped at her eyes and gave herself a minute to get her emotions under control. “I don’t want to hurt Marcus. But I also don’t want Oliver to be hurt.”

  “Then I guess we both want the same thing. I just hope that you’ll give Marcus a chance.”

  Give Marcus a chance. Lissa wished it didn’t sound as if Lucy was connecting her to Oliver’s father. It wasn’t about her feelings for him. Because she didn’t have feelings for him. She was there to introduce Oliver to his father. A man she would probably see from time to time, but they wouldn’t be connected in any way.

  Period.

  A few minutes later she had to remind herself of that belief. Marcus had arrived and he’d taken a seat with Oliver and an older gentleman Lissa didn’t know. He buttered a biscuit for his son and must have known she was watching. With a smile he made eye contact with her.

  She told herself again, no connection. Nothing happened when he smiled and winked like that. She didn’t feel a thing. Because she wouldn’t feel anything. Jane had told her to wait because someday the right man would convince her that he was worth her time. The right man would be a partner. He wouldn’t control. He wouldn’t take over. He wouldn’t hurt her with his hands or his words.

  The right man would make her feel as if the future with him at her side mattered, that it made sense.

  She could trust herself because she would know that man when he stepped into her life.

  It would be the right time, the right man, the right place. Not this man, this place or this time. Even if there was something about Marcus Palermo, the way he helped his son at the buffet line, the way he stopped to talk to the older people, taking time, truly listening. He didn’t believe himself to be good enough to be a little boy’s father. If she was going to lose Oliver to him, she knew she would have to help him to realize he could be the person his son needed.

  They were not a team, but they were two people who cared about a young boy. It mattered that they could get along.

  She could see good in him. She wasn’t so naive that she couldn’t also see that he was charming, and her ability to resist him seemed limited.

  A man who was kind to his son, to the elderly and to animals. It was a lethal combination.

  Chapter Seven

  Water rolled over the top of the bridge Marcus had crossed more times than he could count. He hit the brakes and stopped his truck. Next to him, Lissa looked a little bit nervous. He glanced in the back seat of his truck and smiled at Oliver. The boy didn’t have a clue. In five-year-old fashion he was talking to a toy he’d brought along for the ride to church.

  “I guess we won’t be going this way.” He stated the obvious.

  He guessed Essie, who had left earlier for Sunday services, must have taken the back route to town. He dialed her number as he backed away from the bridge. When she answered, he felt a serious sense of relief.

  “Making sure you’re okay.”

  His aunt sighed. “Well, I guess I have enough sense not to cross a low-water bridge. And I already told first responders. They are on their way out with barricades. I took the county line road to get to town. It’s about the only way.”

  “We’ll be late for church,” he told her and Lissa at the same time.

  A few minutes later they were on the best route to town. It would take an extra ten minutes, but at least they’d get there safely. When they finally pulled into the church parking lot, it was packed. Definitely more than the usual Sunday crowd. Probably several people staying in the shelter the church had set up. Others were there to pray that the rain would stop.

  Lissa’s phone dinged. A text this time and not a call. He watched as she peeked at the phone and slipped it back in her purse. She’d done that several times. He didn’t like games. Even if it didn’t concern him, he wanted to know the truth. He wanted, for her sake and Oliver’s, to know that she was safe.

  “Going to ignore it again?” he asked, realizing that might have sounded a tinge jealous. He hadn’t planned on jealousy, but for some reason he seemed to feel responsible for the woman who had been taking care of his son.

  Responsible. Yes, much easier than thinking of himself as jealous.

  “I’m not ignoring anything,” she answered. “And it isn’t any of your business.”

  Lissa tossed her head toward the back seat, as if warning him the conversation was off-limits with the child in the truck. He was starting to think that was her way of avoiding any conversation she didn’t feel comfortable with.

  He wanted to talk about those phone calls because she had to have a reason for ignoring them. Either she didn’t want him to hear her talk to her boyfriend or she was hiding something else. He might be late to fatherhood, but it mattered that his son and the woman caring for him were both safe.

  “We’re going to discuss this,” he said as he pulled his keys from the ignition.

  “Nope.” She got out of the truck and opened the back door for Oliver. The boy hadn’t said much since they’d left Essie’s. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t said too much since yesterday. Mostly he gave them both some serious questioning looks, and he seemed a little bit upset.

  Marcus got the feeling they needed to talk to Oliver, tell him what the situation was and let him adjust. No more of this taking time, letting him get settled.

  As they headed up the sidewalk, Oliver hurried ahead of them, still clutching the toy he’d had in the truck.

  “We have to tell him.”

  Lissa faltered at his words and he reached for her arm, steadying her. “Right. I know we do. I just wanted to give it time.”

  “I think we don’t have a lot of time. I know you want to take him back to San Antonio with you. And I know full well that with Sammy’s letter and her will, you feel as if you have that right. But he’s my son. I’m going to make some decisions that you might not like. The first one is that we need to tell him. Soon. And you have to understand that I won’t let you walk away with him, not without a fight.”

  So much for the cowboy who wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a dad. He hadn’t been sure. He still wasn’t all the way in, but he also wasn’t going to let his son down. Walking away from Oliver would definitely be letting him down.

  Her careful gaze shifted to his face, to the scar on his cheek. “I guess we know where we both stand.”

  “I guess we do.”

  He started toward the church, knowing she had a hurt expression on her face and tears swimming in her blue eyes. He’d spent a lifetime being cold, shutting out his feelings, pretending he didn’t care. He tried to call on all of the tactics he’d learned over a lifetime of finding it easier to not feel. It might have worked if their fingers hadn’t brushed as they walked. The cold and standoffish routine was difficult to
achieve when you noticed a woman’s tears and you were tempted to reach for her hand.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she warned as they climbed the steps. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to fall apart.”

  He blinked back his surprise. He didn’t go around with his heart on his sleeve or emotion in his eyes. He was the ice man, that was what they had called him when he rode bulls. Nothing scared him. He had faced the meanest bulls in the world and he’d conquered them. But this woman could take him to his knees, she made him want to protect her.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, people will get the wrong idea.” She poked at his arm.

  He rubbed the spot and grimaced. “Sorry. I really don’t want to hurt you, Lissa. Would it be better if I said something about how good you smell?”

  Reaching for the handrail, he headed up the steps, taking them slower than he would have liked. He looked back and she was standing at the bottom of the steps, hand over her heart.

  “Was that a compliment?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “You’re just trying to make me smile. Right?”

  He glanced inside the sanctuary and raised a finger to his lips. “They’re praying.”

  He eased into a pew and scooted to make room for Lissa. Oliver had found a seat a few pews in front, with Lucy, her husband, Dane Scott, and their daughter Issy.

  Next to him, Lissa’s hand stole to his and her fingers, soft and feminine, curled around his roughly calloused ones. She gave a light squeeze and bowed her head, her lips moving softly as she prayed.

  Thread by complicated thread she was undoing his resolve, his plans and his composure. She made it difficult to sit through that sermon and keep his mind focused. Somehow, though, he managed to pray for guidance, because he knew the coming weeks wouldn’t be easy. They could all be hurt in the process of figuring out what would be best for Oliver.

  After church they stood and made their way forward, to Oliver and to the rest of his family.

  “You must have slipped in after we started.” Lucy smiled from him to Lissa. “Lissa, I think Doc is looking for you. Something about setting up a clinic here at the church and he might need your help. I think he has a little bit of a crush on you.”

  Marcus ignored that comment. But then he couldn’t ignore his little sister Maria. She came barreling up the aisle, nineteen and still the most exuberant member of the family. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight.

  “Hug me back, Marc.” She gave him another squeeze.

  He did his best not to stiffen in her embrace. She was a hugger and nothing he said could ever stop her.

  “Don’t call me Marc,” he grumbled at her. “Welcome home, squirt.”

  “You even sound like you mean it.”

  He did mean it, but he decided not to encourage her. “When did you get home?”

  “Early this morning. It took me forever to get here, avoiding flooded roads and bridges.”

  “She brought a friend with her,” Lucy interjected. “His name is Jake.”

  Maria gave her a look and kept talking.

  “I met Oliver.” Maria gave him what passed as her serious look. “He’s a cutie. Chip off the old block, but a lot more charming.”

  “Quiet,” he ordered.

  “Chip off the old block,” Lissa repeated. “That’s another one we could use.”

  “Stop.” He couldn’t help but give in to the smile that tugged at his lips.

  “Was that a smile?” Maria stepped closer and peered at him. “I think it might have been. Have I been gone that long?”

  “You’ve been gone long enough that you brought a friend home to meet the family,” Lucy interjected, with a look at Marcus that meant she was sparing him their little sister’s questions by distracting her.

  “So where is this friend?” Marcus surveyed the room and didn’t see anyone unfamiliar.

  “Helping stack sandbags in front of Essie’s.” Maria slipped her arm through his. Concern darkened her eyes. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t pull away, but he was aware that his younger sister always knew him a little better than anyone.

  “They’re serving lunch in the fellowship hall. I have to find my crew.” Lucy shot him a look, as if to make sure he followed her meaning. “You should find Oliver. I think he went with Dane to get Jewel from the nursery.”

  He hadn’t thought about Oliver. Another point against him. A dad should think about his child, know where he was, consider his well-being. Things like food were important.

  “Come with me.” Lissa took him by the arm. “I’m here for two more weeks, Marcus. I’m not going to leave you to sink or swim.”

  He was obviously drowning, but he wasn’t about to tell that to the woman at his side. Not when the drowning had as much to do with her as it did trying to figure out how to be a father. Both had him in over his head, out of his depth and a few other sayings he could think of. Sink or swim, she’d said. She had no idea how fitting that was for his current state of mind.

  * * *

  Lissa clasped her hands behind her back as they walked down the hallway in the direction of the nursery. The church, once the church where Jesse Palermo had pastored, was now a shelter for abused women as well as a community church. Several of the classrooms had been turned into dorms for those seeking a way to build a new life. With the threat of flooding, single women from the community were being offered cots in the living areas.

  It was symbolic in so many ways. The church Marcus’s dad pastored had left broken lives behind, and this church was rebuilding lives and the community. Lissa admired Marcus—it had to take a lot of strength to put that behind him and to be there helping. She’d learned that he gave to the mission of the church and also helped with construction projects.

  People had been forthcoming with more information about Marcus and the Palermos than she really needed. She realized that some were trying to give her advice and others thought there might be something between her and the remaining single Palermo twin.

  Some less helpful folks had told her about Marcus’s years of alcoholism and how he used to turn to the bottle when life got tense. She thought they were more interested in stirring up trouble than in truly helping.

  But she hadn’t ignored their carefully veiled warnings. A man who had once stayed drunk more than he stayed sober. Could he take care of Oliver? What if he turned back to his old ways?

  Several feet from the door, Marcus stopped, his expression unreadable, his eyes cool and detached. Or that was what a person might think if they didn’t look too closely. In the past week she’d learned a little about how to read him. She saw that he was never really without emotion. He might not smile and laugh, but the feelings were there, beneath the surface. And what she saw right now was a man afraid of how his life had changed.

  “What in the world am I doing?” he asked, his raspy voice gruff.

  “Becoming a dad,” she challenged.

  His gaze darted to the door at the end of the hall. The nursery. She could see that he was torn.

  “This is crazy.” He yanked off his cowboy hat and brushed a hand through his hair.

  “It isn’t,” she encouraged. That hadn’t been the role she’d expected to take in this situation, that of encourager. She hadn’t wanted to trust this man or cheer him on.

  Especially when he’d made it clear he would fight for his son. She knew if it came to it he would take her to court. And he would win.

  “You came here hoping to find me unable to care for my son. You were probably right in believing that, so don’t start acting supportive now.”

  “We should get Oliver. They’re serving lunch.”

  They entered the nursery and she watched with a pang of envy as Marcus lowered himself to the floor to sit with his son. They talke
d about the toys, about Lucy’s little girls, Jewel and Issy, whose father had already taken them to the fellowship hall. And then Oliver mentioned a pig that sometimes ran through town and he wondered if he would ever see that pig.

  Marcus guaranteed him he would. Lissa wanted to tell him that adults didn’t make promises they weren’t sure they would be able to keep.

  But she didn’t have a chance. Marcus swooped his son up into his arms and told him it was time for lunch. Before she could object, he had the little boy on his shoulders. Oliver pulled the hat off Marcus’s head and placed it on his own. “Can I stay up here?”

  Lissa started to protest, but it came out as a squeak. Marcus glanced at her, amusement dancing in his dark eyes for a brief few seconds.

  She shrugged, because she wasn’t going to be the naysayer. Marcus turned his head a bit to look at his son.

  “You’ll have to duck or you’ll hit your head as we go out the door.”

  “I can do that,” Oliver assured them.

  They entered the fellowship hall, Oliver laughing as Marcus told him about a summer picnic at the church complete with bounce houses.

  “We don’t have to go home yet, do we?” the boy asked as Marcus lifted him from his shoulders and placed him back on the floor. The white cowboy hat covered his eyes and he pushed it back to look up at them.

  “No, not yet,” Lissa assured him.

  People were going through a line, filling plates with food. Oliver didn’t hesitate. He left them and headed for the food line.

  “This is why we need to tell him.”

  She sighed. He was right...she needed to tell him. It just hadn’t been her plan to get stuck here. She hadn’t planned to witness the child she’d been raising become attached to the man who was his father. She didn’t know what she’d expected. She’d loaded Oliver up and told him she had someone she wanted him to meet.

  “This can’t continue,” he whispered close to her ear.

  “I know, Marcus. I do know.” Lissa was aware now that Oliver was talking to Pastor Matthews. She smiled at what she saw. “Look at him.”