He sighed. “Sandi’s selfish, I know. She’s probably not the best mother in the world. But she’s not unfit. She doesn’t beat Sam or anything.”
“No. She just neglects her. That woman’s not going to beauty school.”
“Yes she is,” Nate protested. “She’s—”
“She’s lying,” Charlie said. “And she’s lying about other stuff too. She told me you wrote this.”
She dug a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. It was the check he’d written to reimburse Charlie’s deposit. He’d been surprised when Sandi said he should make it for a hundred dollars extra. Usually she was so tight with the money, but she’d had a flash of generosity. A hundred dollars wasn’t much, but he figured it would show Charlie he was trying.
“Read the bottom line,” Charlie said.
He looked down at the memo line and felt like he’d been clonked on the head all over again. “Services rendered?” He shook his head. “I didn’t write that, Charlie. I swear I didn’t.”
“I know,” Charlie said.
“But that doesn’t mean she’s lying about school. She always wanted to go. She always said—”
Charlie interrupted, her tone harsh, “We were asking Sam if she wanted to go to beauty school like her mother,” she began. “She said no. She wants to go to a regular school. One where you don’t have to spend the night.”
“What?”
Doris jumped in again, telling Nate about the weekend overnights, the teenaged babysitter.
“She’s not going to school, Nate. She’s kickin’ up her heels like those Sex in the City gals. And she leaves Sam with people she barely knows while she does it.”
Nate thought of Phaedra, remembering the girl’s sullen recounting of her life in California. He’d worried Sam might be on the same road, and now it turned out he’d been right. “She wouldn’t,” he stammered. “Sandi wouldn’t do that.”
“Do you need us to draw you a picture or what?” Doris asked, splaying her hands. “She did it. And there’s more.”
“There is?” Charlie turned and stared at Doris. She looked as surprised as he felt.
“There sure is. I talked to Sam the other day, while we were in the barn. She was telling me about some of her mother’s pajama parties. Her mother used to invite Uncle Joe, but lately Uncle Ted comes instead. And one time there was another guy, but Sam never found out his name.”
Nate blanched.
“She didn’t find out his name because she doesn’t get to go to the parties,” Doris continued. “They’re for grown-ups. So Sam has to stay in her room so she doesn’t get in the way.” She set her hands on her hips. “Now, come on. Even if you weren’t the kid’s father, do you think that woman would take off and leave a full-time babysitter behind? She’ll never take full responsibility for that child. She’s got too good a deal going right here.”
“Talk to Sandi, Nate,” Charlie said. “You owe it to Sam.”
Nate pictured Sam shut in her room, playing with her Barbies and trying not to listen while Sandi messed around with some stranger, then glanced over at Charlie. He’d expected to see triumph and smug gloating, but she looked pained, as if she was sharing his dismay. He felt that connection again, stretching between them, stronger than ever.
He stood up. Tugging her toward him, he planted a firm kiss on her lips and looked her in the eye. “I owe it to you too. Thank you. I have to go.” He balled his fists and thinned his lips into a hard line. “I’ll take care of Sandi. Don’t worry.”
“Kick her ass, cowboy,” Doris said.
“I will.” Turning, Nate grabbed Doris and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thank you too,” he said, squeezing her hard and tight against his chest. “You’re the best.”
“Well.” Doris grinned at Charlie, patting her hair and straightening her glasses as Nate left the room. “I can see why you like him.”
Chapter 41
Nate took the porch steps two at a time. He could see his ex at the window rinsing out a glass. He opened the door and got ready to rumble.
“Have a fight with your girlfriend?” Sandi turned and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “She took off out of here like she was mad or something.”
“She was,” Nate said. “Me too.” Pulling out a chair, he sat down at the table. “We need to talk,” he said.
Sandi turned and opened a cupboard, then slammed two cereal bowls down on the counter. “Good.” She bent to rummage through a lower cabinet, pulling out a box of cereal and shaking a portion into each bowl. “I agree. Because you have a lot to do today, and I want to make sure you’ve got your priorities straight.”
“I always have a lot to do,” he said. “Especially now, with this clinic thing you set up.”
“You can take some time off from that,” Sandi said. “You need to call a realtor. Get this sale going.”
“No.”
“What?”
“No. I’m not selling.”
“You most certainly are. I’ve waited long enough.” She jerked the refrigerator open and grabbed a jug of milk. “You need to get to town and hire a realtor. Today.”
“I don’t think so. I have some other stuff I need to do.” He was starting to enjoy this.
Sandi spun to face him, splashing milk over the counter. “You listen to me, Nate Shawcross. You…”
“Sandi.” Nate felt his control slipping away as Sandi spun into shrew mode. “I said no. Stop telling me what to do.”
“I’ll leave, then. I’ll take Sam and I’ll leave.”
He took a deep breath. It was time to call Sandi’s bluff. “Sam’s not going anywhere. Not until she has a paternity test. You know, that test that’ll prove I’m her father.”
She stared at him, her mouth half-open. For once, she was speechless and he had something to say. He let the words out in a rush.
“I know you’re lying about Cody, Sandi.”
Amazingly, his eternally poised ex was losing her composure. Clearly, Charlie and Doris were right. Sandi’s face had gone tense and tight as Junior’s. His ex was pretty, and she was devious, but she wasn’t particularly smart or quick-witted. She hadn’t expected this, and without a scheme laid out beforehand, she couldn’t figure out how to fight back.
Finally, she mastered her emotions and forced her lips into a smile to frame one of her phony high-pitched laughs. “Sorry. I’m sure you’d like to believe that. But it’s true.”
“Quit lying, Sandi.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. So let’s schedule that test.” He picked up the phone. “Monday okay?”
She turned to face him, her chin tilted up, her fists clenched.
For a minute there, the fight in her eyes reminded him of Charlie. It was the first time in years he’d seen something in Sandi to like.
But when Charlie fought, she fought for what was right. Sandi only fought for what she wanted.
“I’m not taking any test,” she said, swinging her purse off the counter and onto her shoulder. It was hideous, a brand-new piece of high-fashion garbage with some hotshot designer’s initials all over it. He wondered how much it had cost him. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re leaving because you’re lying,” he said.
She didn’t answer, pretending she was too busy rummaging for her car keys to listen to him. Finally, she fished them out and stalked to the door. Turning, she dangled the keys in the air.
“I’m going back to Denver. And I’m staying this time. It’s over.”
“It was over a long time ago,” he said. “And you’re not taking Sam.” He liked the sound of that so much, he said it again. “You’re not taking my daughter.”
Sandi whirled. “Damn right I’m not,” she said. “You want her so bad, you keep her. You see what it’s like being tied down with a kid when you could—when you could be…” Her mouth stretched, struggling to form the words she’d been holding inside for seven years. “All I ever wanted was to
fulfill my potential. Everybody thought I’d be famous. And then you went and got me pregnant.”
“Right,” Nate said. “I went and got you pregnant. And, of course, you had nothing to do with it. You were just an innocent bystander.”
“It was your fault,” Sandi said. “It was.” She shoved her lower lip out into a decidedly unattractive pout. “And I was stuck here, stuck with you and her, and I couldn’t…”
“You couldn’t do what you wanted,” he said. “Well, now you can. Go live your life, Sandi. I’ll take care of Sam. I don’t mind a bit.”
Sandi swiped at her eyes and looked up at him, her lower lip trembling. A month ago that look would have undone him. He’d have done anything to stop her from crying. Now he just wanted her gone. Hell, he was practically paying her to leave.
“But you owe me. You have to sell the ranch. I get half.”
“I’m not selling the ranch,” he said.
“You have to pay for my beauty school,” she said. “That’s what I always wanted. My—my dream.”
The half-open kitchen door swung inward and Doris stepped in from the front porch, with Taylor close behind. Nate suddenly realized he and Sandi had been shouting. He wondered how long his clients had been out there and what they’d heard.
And Sam. Had Sam heard what her mother had said?
Hopefully not. Her bed was at the far end of her attic bedroom. She was probably still sleeping under the slanted eaves under her bucking-horse comforter, her ratty stuffed pony clasped in her arms. Just thinking of her made his heart swell until he thought it would burst. He’d take care of her. Always. No matter what Sandi did.
And he’d never tell her the truth about her mother. He’d never let her know what Sandi was really like. Kids needed their moms—needed to love them. He’d have to deal with Sandi somehow, get her to be a part of Sam’s life.
But not his. Not anymore.
Doris set her hands on her hips, then pointed a finger at Sandi like an angry schoolmarm. Like the girl had screwed up her times tables or forgotten the capital of North Dakota.
“You know that’s not true,” she said. “Beauty school’s not what you want. What you want is the ranch. What’s it worth? If Nate sells it, how much does he get?”
Sandi paled. Tossing her hair, she looked away, out the window, as if scanning the acreage around the house. “How would I know?” she said.
“You had it assessed. You gave me a price,” Taylor said. He looked at Nate and said slowly, “One-point-two million.”
“That much?” Nate felt like he’d been hit on the head again.
“What would that kind of money do for you, Sandi?” Doris asked. “You wouldn’t use it for beauty school, would you? You wouldn’t bother with that.”
“Yes I would,” Sandi said. “I’m already going to school. I wouldn’t quit.”
“Really?” Nate asked. “What’s the name of that school, Sandi? I’m going to check it out, so you’d better tell me the truth.”
“It’s… it’s…” Sandi’s voice trailed off.
“It’s a special school, isn’t it? One that meets only on the weekends, at night. Sometimes you have to stay over, don’t you?” He gripped the counter behind him, holding his rage in check. “Sam doesn’t understand, but I do. You’re not going to any school. You’re living the high life in Denver, and you left your daughter with a seventeen-year-old high school kid while you hunted for a new sugar daddy.”
Sandi covered her face with her hands. Her nails were perfect, each a gleaming red claw. “You don’t understand,” she said. She pulled her hands away from her face and looked up at Nate. Her eyes were bleary and red-rimmed. Tears streaked her makeup. She looked like Britney Spears in meltdown mode.
“All my life, I’ve been the good girl,” she said. “Because everybody was watching. And when I got to the city, I just—I could finally do what I wanted.” She stamped a foot and clenched her fists. “I deserved it. I’d done everything for everybody else all my miserable life. It was finally my turn.” She stormed out the door, tossing the last line over her shoulder.
“You’re a mother,” Doris called after her. “That’s your turn.”
Sandi hiked her purse farther up her shoulder and turned away. “That’s what you think,” she said. “My turn’s coming. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” She spun back to hurl the last word. “I’m getting half the ranch, Nate. It’s mine, and I’m taking it.”
Chapter 42
Doris looked furious, but Taylor, stepping up behind her, looked almost elated. He held up one hand and Nate gave him a half-hearted high five.
“I’m sorry,” the actor said, stifling a smile. “I know this is serious. But as soon as you people get done, I’m writing it all down.” He grinned. “I’ve been working on a new screenplay, and let me tell you, this is better than anything Sam Shepherd ever dreamed up. I’m thinking I’ll call it Cowgirls Gone Wild.”
Doris turned and focused her wrath on Taylor. Nate took in her aggressive stance and her peeved expression and was glad he wasn’t in her sights.
“Can you maybe quit gloating over other people’s misfortunes and do something useful?” She jabbed a finger toward Nate. “Talk to him, will you? Help the guy out.”
Taylor sighed and sat down at the table. “I’ll do better than that,” he said. He folded his hands and faced Nate. “You want to talk business?”
“Not really,” Nate said. “I need to go find Charlie.”
“Just wait,” Taylor said, pulling out the chair beside him. “Sit. Listen. I had an idea that’ll work for both of us.” He ran a hand down his face as if he was wiping off his expression, turning serious. “I’ve been watching Phaedra. The clinic’s changing her—teaching her a lot of skills and something more—a sort of sensitivity, a new outlook. She’s learning how to live from the horses. That stuff you said at the sale—she took it to heart. She’s learning to accept things. To forgive.”
Nate nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”
“So what about starting up a camp that teaches troubled kids to train horses?”
Nate laughed. “I don’t know anything about kids.”
“No, but Charlie does,” Taylor said. “And with her psych degree she’d give you some credibility.”
“I don’t even know if she’ll stay,” Nate said.
“She’ll stay for this,” Taylor said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s just the kind of work she wants to do. Besides, you know more than you think. You’re a good dad—the kind of dad I wish I’d been. You’re even good with Phaedra.”
Nate snorted. “Hardly.”
“She told me about the time she took the horse,” Taylor said. “You handled it right.”
“What? I turned her over to Charlie.”
“It’s a wise man who knows when he’s beat,” Taylor said, grinning. “And delegation is a valuable skill. Think about it, Nate. You could do a lot of good.”
“I don’t think so,” Nate said. “I don’t want a lot of messed up kids around Sam.”
“Thought you told her everybody deserves a second chance,” Taylor said.
“I did,” Nate said. “But I didn’t say we had to be the ones to hand it out.”
Taylor shrugged. “You’re going to have to do something.” He nodded toward the door. “You heard Sandi. She’ll put a lawyer on it. She’ll end up making you sell the place. If we partner up, you can give her a lump sum. Enough to get her out of your life for good.”
Nate stared off across the kitchen, chewing the inside of his cheek. Taylor was right. Sandi couldn’t take Sam away now. Sure, she’d probably pick her up on weekends once in a while—Nate hoped so, for Sam’s sake—but she couldn’t take her away permanently, or use her as a bargaining chip. He’d won that battle, thanks to Charlie.
But the money was another matter. Sandi would fight hard for a half million.
“Let me buy in,” Taylor said. ‘I’d be an investor in the program, not the ranch itself, so the la
nd would still be yours. You could pay off Sandi with a settlement and start fresh. It would take her years to win in court, and she needs money now, so she’ll take a lot less.” Taylor stood up. “Think about it. Talk to Charlie. You don’t have to make a decision right away.”
***
Nate wandered through the barn, then checked out the bunkhouse.
No Charlie.
Her car was still in the driveway, so she had to be around somewhere. He circled the house, then wandered out back of the barn. Looking up the hill, he saw a small figure perched on the park bench, her dark hair silhouetted against the sky. She hadn’t styled it like she usually did. It was smoother, framing the heart-shaped curves of her face. Without the jagged spikes, she looked softer. Sweeter.
Dang, he’d better not tell her that. She’d hack it all off if she knew how soft and womanly she looked.
He made his way up the winding path and sat down beside her. The two of them looked down at the barn, at the horses whisking their tails in the corral, the dog prostrate in a patch of sun by the door.
“You need to replace a couple shingles,” she said, pointing at the barn roof.
“Yeah,” he said. He reached over and took her hand. “We do.”
She stiffened and looked down at their joined hands, then slowly eased hers away.
“We?”
He nodded. “Sandi’s gone. You were right.” He picked up her hand again and kissed the back of her fingers. “I don’t know how to thank you. You pretty much saved my life.”
She pulled her hand away. He started to reach for it, then set his hands on his thighs. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t blame you. I’ve been an ass.” He glanced at her, and she met his eyes. That was all the signal he needed to reach over and push a lock of hair out of her face, his hand lingering, trailing tenderly down her cheek. “Let me make it up to you.”
He wasn’t sure how he’d do that, except in bed. There he could make her forget Sandi ever existed. Heck, he was pretty sure he could make her forget her own name.
She reached up and took his hand, but only to pull it away from her face. “I need some time, Nate. I need to figure out where I belong.”
One Fine Cowboy Page 27