Texas Dad (Fatherhood)
Page 1
A Picture-Perfect Husband?
Mack Bannerman is many things—a rancher, a Texan, a father…a widower. His twelve-year-old daughter, Zoey, wants him to remarry, so she enters Mack in a magazine contest, hoping to find a wife for him—and a mother for her.
Photojournalist J.J. Walker, formerly from Texas, is sent to Turkey Creek Ranch to take photos of him for the feature. But J.J. and Mack have a past together. One full of mistakes and misunderstandings that left them both with broken hearts. When Zoey catches on that they used to be involved she’ll stop at nothing to make them fall for each other again. Never underestimate a girl who’s determined to play cupid!
“Have you even seen a horse since you left Texas?
“I thought once the cattle were calm you and I could ride out to the draw and back in one day. But if you haven’t ridden in a while, you’d end up too saddle-sore to sit for a cross-country flight.”
“Don’t sell me short,” JJ said, further irritated because the sight of his large hands around the can made her insides squirm. “Magazine photography isn’t all glamour. I’ve trekked into some wild and woolly spots, and I always carry my own equipment.”
“Touchy, I see,” Mack drawled.
“You’re darned tootin’.” She tossed back some of the Texas lingo she hadn’t fully lost. “I’m no hothouse flower, Mack. If I wasn’t needed here today, I’d ride along and photograph your whole trail ride. And I wouldn’t need special privileges.”
“If it bothers you to stay behind with Zoey and Erma,” he snapped, “I’ll leave the guys to calm the herd and ride back here this afternoon.”
“I’m not bothered.” She drew back, giving him a puzzled look. “Are you bothered about leaving me here? Are you afraid I’ll run off with the Bannerman silver?”
Dear Reader,
I like Texas. I like ranchers. I like kids and dogs. And because I have daughters and granddaughters, I gave my rancher, Mack Bannerman, an almost-teenage daughter. Mack raised Zoey from birth with the help of a loyal housekeeper who’s worked for his family on Turkey Creek Ranch since he was a teen.
Preteens are nothing like babies or toddlers. There are a lot of people on the ranch, including Zoey—especially Zoey—who think Mack needs to find a wife and give his daughter a mom. With the help of her BFF, Zoey takes matters into her own hands, entering her dad in a contest running in a widely circulated women’s magazine. The girls have no way of knowing that Mack has a rocky past history with J.J. Walker, the photojournalist sent by the magazine to take his pictures and write his story. This creates more than a few problems—and opportunities—for all concerned. Needless to say, the various onlookers at the ranch are fascinated…. I hope you find everything that happens just as interesting!
Sincerely,
Roz Denny Fox
P.S. I love touching base with readers. Contact me via mail or email.
7739 E Broadway Boulevard #101
Tucson, AZ
8710-3941
rdfox@cox.net
TEXAS DAD
Roz Denny Fox
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roz Denny Fox’s first book was published by Harlequin in 1990. She writes for various Harlequin lines and for special projects. Her books are published worldwide and in a number of languages. She’s also written articles, as well as online serials for Harlequin.com. Roz’s warm home- and family-focused love stories have been nominated for various industry awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA, The Holt Medallion, The Golden Quill and others. Roz has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1987, and is currently a member of Tucson’s Saguaro Romance Writers, where she has received The Barbara Award for outstanding chapter service. She’s also a member of Desert Rose RWA chapter in Phoenix, Midwest Fiction Writers of Minneapolis, San Angelo Texas Writers’ Club, and Novelists, Inc. In 2013 Roz received her fifty-book pin from Harlequin.
To view her backlist visit her website at www.korynna.com/RozFox.
Readers can email her through Facebook or rdfox@cox.net.
Books by Roz Denny Fox
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1036—TOO MANY BROTHERS
1087—THE SECRET WEDDING DRESS
1185—THE PERFECT TREE
“Noelle and the Wise Man”
1404—THE MAVERICK RETURNS
1417—DUKE: DEPUTY COWBOY
HARLEQUIN HEARTWARMING
HEARTS ENTWINED
THE WESTERN DARE
THE BOSS NEXT DOOR
THE HOPE DRESS
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1069—THE SEVEN YEAR SECRET
1108—SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
1128—THE SECRET DAUGHTER
1148—MARRIED IN HASTE
1184—A COWBOY AT HEART
1220—DADDY’S LITTLE MATCHMAKER
1254—SHE WALKS THE LINE
1290—A MOM FOR MATTHEW
1320—MORE TO TEXAS THAN COWBOYS
1368—ANGELS OF THE BIG SKY
1388—ON ANGEL WINGS
1412—REAL COWBOYS
1459—LOOKING FOR SOPHIE
1509—MORE THAN A MEMORY
1518—A TEXAS-MADE FAMILY
1586—THE BABY ALBUM
This book is dedicated to my critique partners, Cindy, Suzanne and Laura. They are avid readers and talented writers. In addition to busy lives,
they make time to read and constructively point out ways to strengthen my stories.
Thanks for being my writing cheerleaders.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Seventh grade is so gonna suck.” Zoey Bannerman flopped down on her best friend Brandy Evers’s couch and accepted a bowl of potato chips. “Thanks. The Open House at the junior high was the worst! Did you hear that snarky Heather Reed say I dress like a cowboy? She said Jay Lowery and all his friends call me a loser.”
“Who cares what Heather says? She’s mean.” Brandy looked fierce as she passed Zoey a can of soda before sinking cross-legged onto the floor.
Opening the can, Zoey let it stop fizzing before she drank. “Things would be way better if I had a mom. I even heard Erma tell my dad he needs a wife. I wish I could help him find someone nice.”
“You say that a lot, Zoey. I dunno. My mother says you can’t just go out and pick a mom. It’s up to your dad. Maybe you should talk to him.”
“He might think I don’t love him. I do, but next year school will be different with coed dances and stuff. Dad and Erma think since we live on a ranch it’s okay if I wear jeans and boots all the time.”
“Your housekeeper makes the best cookies in the world, but she’s my grandma’s age. And Erma doesn’t shop anywhere except at La Mesa’s general store. What about setting your dad up with Trudy Thorne? Everybody knows she likes him.”
“She’s so phony. Erma says Trudy’s only interested in how much my dad and Turkey Creek Ranch are worth.”
“Then how about your dad’s veterinarian? You like Delaney Blair and her kid.”
“I love Delaney and Nick, but I heard Benny Lopez telling one of Dad’s new ranch hands that Delaney’s hung up on s
ome guy who lives in Argentina.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. He sold Dad his prize bull.”
“Weird. I wonder why they aren’t married.”
Zoey shrugged. “Don’t ask me. If my dad wanted to date anyone from La Mesa, don’t you think he’d have done it by now?” She munched a few chips. “Your parents are so happy together. My dad’s been alone for a long time. He’s gotta be lonely.” She set her soda can on a coaster on the coffee table. “I wish a nice woman from someplace else would move to La Mesa. Someone who wants a family.” Hesitating, Zoey added, “Someone who’d love my dad, but who I could talk to about clothes and...and...boys.”
“But your dad would have to meet her and ask her out first.”
“Like that’ll happen,” Zoey lamented, twisting one of her braids.
“My mom said she’d take me to a big department store before school starts again in September—a place where they teach people how to put on makeup. And she promised I can get my ears pierced. If your dad says it’s okay, you can go with us.”
“Thanks. But I keep horning in on you and your mom.”
“It’s okay ’cause you don’t have a mom, Zoey. And Erma doesn’t even wear makeup, does she? Hey!” Brandy jumped up off the floor. “I have an idea. My mom gets a magazine called Her Own Woman. Last week her gourmet cooking club went on about a contest the magazine is running. With single men, one a month. My mom’s friend Lacy Doran said readers go online and write up what they like about a certain man. Readers get picked by the magazine to meet the guys and deliver a check to his favorite charity. They go on a big night on the town, sort of like a date. I bet your dad qualifies. Wait, I’ll show you.”
She crossed the room and dug some glossy magazines out of a rack. Dropping down next to Zoey, Brandy flipped pages until she found the contest. The girls huddled together, reading.
“They need photos,” Zoey said, frowning. “And an essay on why he deserves to be chosen. They’ve done January already. He’s a skier.” She opened the second magazine. “February is a mountain climber. Gosh, March and April aren’t wearing shirts. I don’t think my dad would go for this. And look...it says all nominees have to sign a release.”
“Only if he’s picked, Zoey. You can write an essay. It says they want a compelling story. Remember when Mrs. T. did that lesson in language arts about how certain words show emotion or sympathy or whatever? Just write that your dad’s lonely and you want him to be happy. It can’t hurt to mention that it’d be great if your dad makes the cut, if they’ll send a woman who knows about ranching...and teenage girls.”
Zoey mumbled, “I won’t officially be a teen till November.”
“Still, the sooner you put in a request, the more chance your dad has to win.” Brandy leaped up. “If they don’t choose him, we’ll figure out something else.”
“Okay. Help me write. When I go home I’ll start taking pictures.”
“Let’s go up to my room. I’ll borrow my mom’s laptop. If she comes in from her greenhouse, she’ll probably say this is a bad idea. Moms are fussy like that, Zoey, I’m just saying.”
* * *
MACK BANNERMAN STOMPED into the barn and began furiously pitching hay into a hay wagon.
“Worried about the drought?” asked Benny Lopez, who had been Turkey Creek’s ranch foreman since Mack was a boy. “You’ll feel better knowing I rode out to the spring that feeds Turkey Creek yesterday. There’s water bubbling up. Your plan to drive the herd to Monument Draw May 1st should give them a chance to fatten up on sweet grass before we take them to market.”
“Good. But it’s not about the drought. It’s Zoey. For three days she’s been obsessed with taking pictures and it’s driving me nuts. Every time I turn around she shoves a camera in my face. Today was the last straw. She barged into my bathroom when I was shaving and, bam, a flash blinded me. I cut my chin. We were both damned lucky I had a towel wrapped around my waist.”
Benny threw back his head and laughed.
“I might laugh, too, if I hadn’t had to give her a lecture on privacy. I hate scolding Zoey. Usually I support everything she does, but I’ll admit I freaked out when she told me she wants to take photography classes in junior high. Maybe it’s a passing fancy, but...” Mack sighed and leaned on the handle of his pitchfork.
“Ah, you’re thinking about Jilly.” Benny rasped a thumb over his stubbled chin as he eyed Mack, who winced. Benny’s remark propelled him back to the time of his father’s death from a massive stroke. He’d been madly in love with a girl from Lubbock, where they’d both attended college. They’d even been engaged. Jill Walker was a photography major who, instead of supporting him in his hour of need, returned his ring by mail and flew off to Paris to further her career. That much he’d learned from her mother, who said he should forget Jill. And he’d had to drop out of college to run the ranch.
“I rarely think of Jill,” he muttered. “But since you brought her up, you can’t blame me for not wanting Zoey to be a globetrotter?” Mack dug his pitchfork into the pile of hay again.
Benny grunted and went back to hosing out stalls.
Mack paused to rub his shoulder. Telling Benny he rarely thought of Jill Walker wasn’t true. He’d completed his agriculture degree online, so he received the college alumni newsletter—which often touted Jill’s accomplishments. And he kept two of her early photos hanging on his bedroom wall. One was of a sunset over South Padre Island that Jill had shot the weekend they first made love—after he’d asked her to marry him. The other, a picture of their group of friends, she’d taken on campus. She’d set up a tripod and snapped the photo via remote. They all wore sappy grins.
He should toss the pictures. For one thing, the members of the group had scattered, or worse. Tom Corbin, a quiet, likable Yankee, had been killed in a motorcycle crash a week after Mack’s dad died. And there was Faith. Her heart—damaged by childhood rheumatic fever—gave out during childbirth. Memories of Faith always came wrapped in sorrow and regret. Her life had never been happy. They’d dated for a while in high school, in spite of fierce opposition from her controlling, too-pious father. Even after they’d broken up because her parents were such jerks, Faith’s father had insisted she attend a religious college. In defiance, the next year she followed Mack to Texas Tech. But by then he’d fallen in love with Jilly. Yet, through a quirk of fate he and Faith had ended up married. And Zoey—Faith’s gift to him after so many losses in his life—came as a blessing.
He let his vacant gaze cruise past Benny.
“Maybe you should take a day off, boss. Go into town and have some fun.”
“What? Oh, no, I was just thinking. Have you noticed how fast Zoey’s growing up?” Mack’s tone was wistful. “I wish I could still pop her in that chest sling I used—remember when the only thing that lulled her to sleep was me riding around the lowing herd at night?” He grinned. “She was so excited the first day we let her ride Misty.”
“I don’t see her riding as much these days.”
“No. Erma thinks it’s a phase because of her age.... She mopes around. I don’t know what to do, Benny. And I see Erma slowing down when Zoey most needs a woman’s guidance.”
“That’s why Erma nags you to find a wife. If not for your sake, Mackenzie, then for Zoey’s.”
Shoving a lock of dark hair off his forehead, Mack stared out the open door into the nearby corral. “My heart’s not in the hunt, Benny. My heart’s not in the hunt.”
* * *
PHOTOJOURNALIST J.J. WALKER rushed into the weekly planning meeting at the New York high-rise offices of Her Own Woman magazine. She juggled her morning coffee, a bulging camera case and a portfolio from her most recent fashion shoot in Cancun, where she’d gone after covering the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. It was already April. She’d been on location for a month, and if her office assistant
hadn’t reminded her about this meeting, she would have missed it. Settling into an empty chair, she took a big gulp of coffee, liberally laced with cream and sugar. When she glanced at the hundred-inch wall screen where editors were displaying upcoming layouts, she was bombarded by four up-close photos of a man she’d never expected to see again—the only man she’d ever pledged to marry.
Choking, she spewed coffee all over her skirt and new Dolce Vita wedge sandals, which even with her deep professional discount had cost a mint. She created a stir in the room as she noisily mopped up. When everything except her racing heart had calmed down, she asked, “Wh-what’s with the, uh, cowboy?” She wanted to deny it, but she knew the pictures staring down at her were of a more mature, but still handsome, Mack Bannerman.
A beaming features editor loudly announced, “He’s our Mr. August, J.J.”
“Yeah, our Mr. Hot August,” an art assistant joked as she fanned her face.
Though she didn’t intend to give anything away, J.J. blurted, “I thought all our featured men had to be single.”
“I hoped you might know him.” Donna Trent, the boss, turned in her seat to focus on the flustered J.J., even as the features editor went on to say, “According to the essay, Mackenzie Bannerman, Texas rancher, is very single.”
Last year someone on staff had proposed featuring one man a month in the magazine. J.J. had been one of the few dissenters. She continued to shake her head. “I must have confused him with someone else.”
Donna pounced. “Come on, J.J., he’s from La Mesa. Your hometown is Lubbock. I know you’ve been home recently. Didn’t you just help your mom move into an apartment in an assisted-living community? On the map, Lubbock and La Mesa aren’t too far apart.”
“Texas is big,” J.J. mumbled. “Okay—I know of him. Everyone within hog-calling distance of La Mesa, which by the way is pronounced La-mee-sa, not La-may-sa, knows of Mack Bannerman. He owns Turkey Creek Cattle Ranch, the biggest Hereford breeding ranch in West Texas.” Although what J.J. really wanted to say—that Mackenzie Bannerman was a two-timing rat—she couldn’t without opening a vein and releasing years of pent-up heartache. She thought she’d vanquished those feelings, but apparently she hadn’t.