The Nine-Dollar Daddy

by Day Leclaire

  Ty suppressed a grin. “You’re quick, kid. I always did like that about you.” He removed his gloves and shoved them into his back pocket. “I don’t mind your helping, so long as I ask for it first. Okay?”

  “I guess.” Hutch adjusted his glasses. “You sure I can’t help just a little?”

  “Now that you mention it, I could use some.” Ty nodded toward the side of the house. “Why don’t you grab the hose and give these bushes a drink?”

  Ty caught Cassidy going through her wallet a few days later, counting out the piddling stack of bills that were undoubtedly all she had left to her name. From his vantage point, the few there were carried good ol’ George Washington’s enigmatic smile. Not pleasant to be down to a handful of one dollar bills. Desperation would undoubtedly follow close behind and Cassidy desperate wasn’t a sight he cared to witness, any more than her reaction should her precious roses die now that he’d planted them.

  Then he thought of something and roundly cursed him self for a fool. They were supposed to have picked up her paycheck from the café. With all the craziness of the pas several days, he’d forgotten about it—although he’d re membered to retrieve her car and reconnect the battery cables . He’d also taken a few minutes to have an intriguing discussion with Cassidy’s former landlady. What he’d do with the information he’d gleaned, he hadn’t quite decided

  His mouth slanted in a wry smile. No question about it Once he convinced the love of his life to join him in holy matrimony, he’d have his hands full with their ingenious—not to mention devious—son. At least their conversation a few days ago had helped. Ever since they’d planted the rosebushes, Hutch had been on his best behavior.

  “Ty?” Cassidy caught up with him on the porch, a wor ried frown lining her brow. He longed to smooth it away to ease her fears and concerns and allow her to concentrate on the pleasures life offered instead of fighting for sheet survival. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t let him. Not yet, a any rate.

  “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

  She’d stopped protesting his use of endearments, al though they were almost guaranteed to bring a flush to her cheeks. “I need to go into San Antonio for the day.”

  “Would you like a lift? I’d be happy to drive you there.’

  She avoided his eyes. “That’s not necessary. I’ll take my car. I have...things to do.”

  “Things.” What sort of things? he couldn’t help bu wonder. Not that he couldn’t guess. No doubt they were independent things. Things guaranteed to put as much distance between them and raise as many barriers as she could manage.

  This time, she did glance at him, her gaze direct and forthright. “I have to get a job and find a new place to live, as you’re well aware.”

  Uh-oh. “You agreed to stay here as my guest until after our Fiesta date,” he reminded in his mildest tone of voice. It was one of the few concessions he’d wrangled out of her.

  She looked like she wanted to argue. Being a smart woman, she thought better of it. “You’re right, I did. But in the meantime, I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  His relief was tempered by concern. “You feeling okay?”

  A smile eased the strain he read in her eyes. “It’s not that sort of appointment. It’s a project I’ve been working on. A long-standing one. And if I don’t make it there today, I might not get around to it again any time soon.” She took a deep breath. “So it’s now or never.”

  She didn’t explain further and he knew better than to push, though her determination intensified his curiosity. He might want to insist she share every aspect of her life with him, to trust him with all the intimate details. But that would have to wait until she was ready. “Sounds like it’s important to you,” he limited himself to observing.

  “Very. It’s a project I’ve been working on for some time now.” She glanced toward the bunkhouse. “The thing is...I’m going to be back late and I wondered if you’d mind keeping an eye on Hutch.”

  “You know that’s not a problem. Sure I can’t give you a lift?”

  Her chin came into play, settling along lines that warned he’d lose this particular argument should he choose to turn it into one. “Thanks, but this is something I have to take care of myself.”

  He inclined his head. “Think you’ll be home for dinner?”

  She didn’t call him on his use of the word “home”. Instead, she checked her watch. “I should be. If not, I’ll phone.”

  With that, she trotted over to her car, spent a good three minutes wrestling the door open, climbed in, banged her head on the frame and spent another three minutes tugging it closed. The car started with a sputtering grumble and she disappeared down his driveway in a plume of dust and exhaust. Well, at least he’d filled her gas tank—filled it nice and full so she could drive long and far.

  He shook his head in disgust. How damned charitable of him.

  It was late when Cassidy returned to the ranch and she was starving. Her appointment had taken nearly eight hours and her mind—what little remained of it—was numb. She’d called to warn she’d miss dinner and Ty had promised to save her some. She stood just inside the front door and absorbed the ageless silence of the hallway, comforted by the sheer solidness of her surroundings, welcomed by the whispers of the past that filled every nook and cranny of the homestead. And she relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  She’d come home.

  “Ty?” she called.

  “In here.”

  His voice came from the direction of his office and she crossed the hallway to hesitate outside the half-closed door. Pushing it open, she stared in disbelief. Everywhere she looked were baskets and vases overflowing with yellow roses. In the middle of the room, he’d set a table for two. Silver glistened in the subdued lighting, while crystal and wafer-thin porcelain gleamed. Best of all, the wineglasses were brimming with a rich red Cabernet Sauvignon. Next to the table stood a cart with the most delectable aromas she’d ever inhaled wafting from beneath covered dishes.

  It took a moment to find her voice. “What’s all this?” she asked, although it seemed obvious enough.

  Ty offered a lopsided grin, one as irresistible as it was endearing. “It’s for you. Edith and I figured you’d be wiped by the time you got in. And since moving to the ranch has forced an extra couple hours’ drive on you whenever you have to go into San Antonio...” He trailed off with a shrug. “Besides, it gets us started on those dates.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. They had to be from exhaustion since she wasn’t one to cry when someone acted this incredibly sweet. Although, if she was honest, she’d admit that she couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her like this. Cosseted her. Made her feel special.

  He crossed to her side, standing so close his woodsy scent became a part of her. “Are you crying?” he asked.

  She shook her head in instant denial. “I can’t be. I never cry.”

  His laugh slipped around her, as warm as an embrace, and he reached out to catch a tear with his knuckle. “Well then, you’ve sprung a leak. You’ve got all this wet stuff spurting out of your eyes.”

  Reluctant amusement fought with the tears she’d denied. “This is the end of March. I’m sure it’s just a spring shower.”

  “No doubt,” he said gently. “Hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “Sit down and we’ll eat.”

  “You waited for me?”

  “I didn’t want you to eat alone.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, unbearably moved. She hesitated by the table and her hand crept out to finger the white damask tablecloth. “I could get used to this.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  The urge to flee overwhelmed her, just as it infuriated her. Where did these feelings come from? She wasn’t Lonnie, to run at the first hint of commitment, was she? And though she valued her independence, Ty hadn’t tried to steal that from her. Anyhow, not so far. He might propose once a day, but he took her refusals in stri
de and with good humor. In fact, he teased her unmercifully, promising to get even when she finally broke down and accepted his marriage proposal.

  “Give me a second to wash up,” she requested. And to get herself under control.

  “Take your time. I’ll have the salad and appetizer ready to go as soon as you get back.”

  “An appetizer? I’m impressed.” Her tears slowed and she even managed to achieve a light tone. Not that she fooled him. But at least he didn’t say anything her pride could take exception to. “I’ll be right back.”

  She used the powder room at the end of the hall. Standing in front of the mirror that hung over the washbasin, she scolded herself for a good five minutes. What the heck was she so afraid of? Why couldn’t she accept the small kindnesses Ty offered with a modicum of the grace Aunt Esther had drummed into her? It didn’t mean she owed him or had to pay him back for his generosity. Her mouth twisted. Nor did she have to marry him, no matter how much she might—

  Oh, no. Her eyes widened in disbelief. That wasn’t possible. She couldn’t have fallen for Ty. Not so soon, and not after all she’d been through with Lonnie. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the hard way? Hadn’t she learned that men loved women until it became inconvenient or until the responsibilities became too much? Or until someone better came along?

  But Ty isn’t Lonnie, the voices inside her head insisted. Dam those nasty, illogical wrong-thinking voices. Sure, Ty seemed a different type than her ex-husband. But she had Hutch to worry about. She couldn’t risk the heartache that would follow if her relationship with Ty didn’t work out. Because if it didn’t, she wouldn’t just lose a husband this time.

  Tears burned her eyes again. This was Merrick land. Any roots she put down would have to be yanked up and replanted elsewhere. Considering how fragile those roots had become—as fragile as her poor rosebushes—she doubted she could survive another transplant.

  Besides, she’d come so close to achieving the goals she’d set for herself five long years ago. She’d proven that she could be a good mother to Hutch, that she could support and raise him on her own. She’d learned to stand on her own two feet, to depend on no one but herself. She’d even contacted her aunt and uncle and discovered that they were as heartsick at the manner in which they’d parted as she was. And she’d taken the final step toward her most important goal, getting her—

  A soft knock sounded on the door. “Honey? You fall asleep in there?”

  She sniffed. “No.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “No.” She rested her forehead against the oak panel and splayed her hand across the cool wood. As a substitute for Ty’s warm arms, it lacked a great deal. “Not really.”

  “Anything I can do?” So understanding. So gentle. So loving.

  So tempting.

  “Those voices are talking to me again.”

  There was a long silence. “The ones you told to shut up when we first met?” he asked cautiously.

  “Yeah. Those ones.”

  “What are they telling you?” Apprehension grated his voice.

  “That you’re not Lonnie.”

  That perked him up. “Hey! I’m beginning to like those voices.”

  “Oh, really? They’re also the ones that told me to sleep with my ex before we got married.”

  “Ah. I see the problem.”

  She swiped the tears from her cheeks. That darned spring shower had turned into a summer torrent. “So now I don’t know what to do.”

  “How about opening the door and having some dinner? We can decide whether the voices have me pegged right another time.”

  She opened the door a crack. “You don’t understand. That’s the problem.”

  He stood just outside the doorway, smiling down at her, his eyes so full of love it hurt to look at him. “What’s the problem, sweetheart?”

  “How can I possibly trust them when they were so wrong before?”

  He cupped her damp cheekbone. “Maybe they’ve gotten older and wiser since then. It can happen to the best of us.”

  She hadn’t thought of that and it cheered her immensely. “I think I’m hungry now.”

  “Great. Let’s eat. I’ll light the candles so I don’t see all the wrinkles Hutch claims you have and we’ll stuff ourselves until we can’t move.”

  A laugh broke from her. “He told you about the wrinkles, huh?”

  “He’s even the one who suggested the candlelight.”

  “Lovely.” She joined Ty in the hallway. “One of these days that kid’s going to go too far.”

  “I suspect that day’s right around the bend.”

  They entered his office and he gestured toward the table. “Have a seat. There’s salad and homemade tortilla chips to go with Lorenzo’s personal salsa. Then for the main course we have—”

  The lights winked off just as Ty pulled out her chair. She took a stumbling step forward, tangled with the chair leg and plunged full force against him. He hadn’t anticipated the blow. He went over liked a felled tree, carrying her with him. He also managed to snag the tablecloth on the way down. Dishes and silverware, flowers and food pelted them as they hit the floor with Ty flat on his back and Cassidy riding on top.

  “Are you hurt?” he questioned urgently, running his hands over her, checking for damage.

  She lifted her head and looked around. Not that it helped. The room was pitch-black. “I...I don’t think so. What happened?”

  “The power must have gone out.” He groaned, shifting beneath her.

  “What about you? Are you okay?” Alarm filled her and it was her turn to check him for damage. As far as she could tell, everything seemed intact. At least, all his ripples were where they belonged. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s salsa and chips sliding down my neck.”

  “Really?” Her stomach growled. “I could probably help with that,” she offered diffidently.

  “What the hell are you doing? Damn it, Cassidy! Are you eating off me?”

  “I’m hungry.” She held a broken chip to his mouth. “Want some?”

  “Oh, I want some all right.”

  Tossing the chip aside, he thrust his hands into her hair and found her mouth with amazing accuracy. Salsa mingled with a flavor so inviting, so delectable, that she could easily spend a lifetime savoring it. Her lips parted and she practically inhaled him. His tongue swept inward, a welcome invasion. He groaned again, but she suspected that this time it had nothing whatsoever to do with the salsa dripping down his neck.

  She reached up and cupped his face. Blind, she could only trace the hard, sculpted lines. His brow was broad, his cheekbones high and taut. And his lips... She skimmed them with her callused fingers, only then realizing how abrasive her touch must feel. “Am I being too rough?” she asked in concern, whipping her hands away from his face.

  His laugh was smothered against her mouth. “Not hardly. Why?”

  “My hands. They’re...” She shrugged, the movement scraping her breasts across his chest. “You know.”

  “You’ve worked hard, sweetheart.” His hands covered hers and he returned them to his face. “But we’re a matched set in that department. Haven’t you noticed?”

  For some reason, his observation filled her with delight. “You’re right. We are.”

  “We match in other ways, too.”

  Her sigh filled the air. “What ways?”

  “Let me show you.” His legs parted slightly so she slipped into the angled notch they formed, his hips cradling the most feminine part of her. He eased his hands up the length of her spine, pressing her so close she could feel each lovely ripple of the muscles supporting her. “See how well we fit together?”

  “You can’t be comfortable with me draped all over you,” she protested.

  “You don’t get it, do you? You’re perfect. You fit me better than any woman I’ve ever known.” He held her close, made love to her with his mouth and his hands and his gentle, rumbly voice. “As far as I’m concerned, you
can drape yourself over me any day of the week. You can drape yourself over me when the snow flies, or when it’s hotter than Hades, or when the day’s been tough or life’s been unfair. If you need someplace to go, my arms are waiting. They’re always open for you, sweetheart. When we’re old and gray and I’m not as strong as I used to be, my arms will still have one purpose. And that’ll be to hold you.”

  Tears mingled with the salsa dripping on his neck. “Oh, Ty.”

  He released a rough laugh. “Why I want to many a woman who does so damned much leaking, I’ll never know. Except that I do.” He gathered her up, kissing her senseless and then kissing her some more. “Get ready for today’s marriage proposal, love. If you can resist a man flat on his back covered in salsa and chips, you’re the stubbornest woman I ever have met. But here goes—”

  Somewhere behind them, a door banged open and a flashlight beam played across the devastation of the room. Eventually, it landed on them and wobbled violently. “Oh, golly,” came a breathless voice.

  Cassidy tried to squirm out of Ty’s arms, but he held her fast. “Hutch? Is that you?”

  “Whatcha doin’ down there, Mom?”

  “The power went out and I couldn’t see where I was going, so I tripped.”

  She could actually hear his gulp. “But...where’s your candles? You were supposed to have candles.”

  Ty shifted beneath her. “Boy, if I discover you had something to do with the power cutting out, there’ll be hell to pay! You got that?”

  “Uh-huh.” The door banged shut and ten-year old feet scampered down the hallway. Two minutes later, the lights flickered back on.

  Ty helped Cassidy stand. Lettuce, salsa, roses and wine spattered his formerly cream-colored carpet. “Damnation,” he muttered. “Watch the broken dishes. I guess we should be glad we weren’t cut.”

  Cassidy eyed the wrecked room in undisguised horror. This was all her fault. Why had she ever agreed to stay here? It had been a mistake from start to finish. “I’ll pay to replace everything that shattered and arrange to have your carpet cleaned.”