“I don’t know. Yesterday morning I knew nothing about having a son. Then you appear and tell me Nicholas is my child. I’m still trying to digest what you told me. I need time.”
“Fair enough.” Jordan closed her eyes for a few seconds, a tear leaking out and running down her cheek.
The sight of it jolted him back to another time when they had fought and parted—her going to Savannah while he stayed in Tallgrass licking his wounds. Where would they be now if they had never fought that day or his mother had told him about Jordan’s calls?
“Nicholas’s welfare is the most important thing to me, so I want this to work. If we fight all the time and use him as a pawn in some game, he’ll be the one who ends up hurt the most.”
“Agreed. Let’s start over. I’m Zachary Rutgers. I raise quarter horses and have a small herd of buffalo on my ranch.” He held out his hand, shoving his anger away. He’d loved her at one time—knew she had a good heart. Working as a team—as Nicholas’s parents—was what was best for their son.
She fit hers in his grasp and shook it. “I’m Jordan Masterson. I have a graphic design business and as of today I’m homeschooling my child and terrified I’m going to mess it up.”
The warm feel of her fingers seared his palm. It took every ounce of willpower not to drop her hand, not to react to her touch, the softness of her skin against his work-toughened flesh. “I’ll try to help with the homeschooling. I’ve picked up some things from Becca. And I know my sister would help you.” Releasing her, he inhaled deeply. He could do this—be on friendly terms with Jordan—but he would make sure he guarded his heart. He wouldn’t let her hurt him again.
“It’ll be all I can do to stay one step ahead of him, especially in math.”
“Check with Ian Ferguson about his math group. I know Ian and Alexa are planning to leave after the New Year, but until then it could be a solution to Nicholas’s math needs.”
“I’ll do that. Nancy Baker said something about that when I met with her last week.”
The door opened behind Jordan, and Nicholas exited. “I’ve got everything.”
“Let’s go, partner.”
Jordan stopped their son and hugged him. “I love you, Nicholas. I know you’ll behave.” She kissed his cheek.
“Ah, Mom.” He tugged away and hurried down the stairs toward Zachary’s truck.
The crestfallen look on Jordan’s face prodded Zachary to move closer and touch her arm. “Just exerting his independence.”
“I wish he’d wait a few years. I’m not ready for him to grow up.”
At least she’d had the first ten years with Nicholas. Her words drove home the fact he’d lost out on so much of his only child’s life. He stepped back from Jordan, stomping down the rising anger. A team—him and Jordan. He would make it work somehow. For their son.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Zachary looked in his refrigerator and saw the few food provisions he had. He should have gone grocery shopping, but he hadn’t originally thought that Nicholas would spend the night. “I’ve got some milk. We could have cereal.” He took the carton, opened it and smelled. The rancid aroma of sour milk accosted his nostrils. “On second thought, maybe we could go out for breakfast.” He glanced toward his son standing by the kitchen sink.
“That’s okay.” Nicholas rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I’ll go get dressed.”
“Thanks, partner.” When his son left the kitchen, Zachary massaged his temples. What else was he forgetting? He wasn’t starting out very good as a father. Note to self: get food in the house. See what Nicholas likes. Find out everything I can from Jordan about him.
When he heard a knock at the front door, he made his way toward it. Jordan stood on his porch with a sack full of food in her arms. The beat of his heart sped as if he was settling on the back of the bull in the chute—seconds before the gate opened. He moved to the side and allowed her into his house, actually pleased at her appearance.
“I saw your empty refrigerator yesterday and figured you might not have much for breakfast, so here I am. I can make both of you buttermilk pancakes. Okay?” She turned in the foyer and waited for his answer.
She was trying to make the best of their situation. He needed to meet her halfway. “I haven’t had pancakes in a long time.”
“And you used to love them.”
“Still do.”
“So does Nicholas.” She started for the kitchen.
Zachary followed her and watched from the doorway while she made herself at home, taking the food out of the sack and putting some of it away while setting the rest on the counter to use. The sight of her in his kitchen reconstructed some of his past dreams when he’d thought they would marry. He couldn’t emotionally afford those dreams, and yet she fit well into his kitchen.
“Blackberries are in right now. I use them as a topping. Remember that time we went blackberry picking? That snake that slithered among the bushes?” She opened a cabinet and withdrew a mixing bowl, then threw a glance over her shoulder.
“You couldn’t move fast enough.”
“Right into your arms. All I could think about was getting my feet off the ground,” she said with a laugh. “That seems to be my reaction when I see a snake.”
The sound of her merriment drew him forward. Crossing the kitchen, he kept his gaze on her. All of a sudden he was whisked back to when he was eighteen, in love with her, spending a morning picking blackberries because she asked him sweetly to help her. Her grandmother was going to make her blackberry jam and needed some fresh ones. He’d been on top of the world, in spite of the snake that had quickly slid away, probably because of Jordan’s loud scream.
“I never did get a jar of the jam.” He stopped a few feet from her, their looks still entangled together.
“Neither did I.” She blinked and averted her head.
“Yeah, you left for art school three weeks later.”
The air thickened with charged emotions. Recalling that time brought bittersweet memories to the foreground. Zachary clamped down on his jaw to keep the words from boiling to the surface. Words of recrimination. If only the past had been different, they would be a couple now. If only… He had to stop feeling this way. He needed to live in the present.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
Jordan whirled around, a grin on her face. “Rescuing your dad with breakfast.”
Your dad. Zachary liked the sound of that.
Nicholas checked out the ingredients on the counter. “Buttermilk pancakes?” She nodded.
His son pumped his arm in the air. “Wait till you eat them, Dad.”
Dad! That was the first time Nicholas had said it. The best sound in the world. It filled him with joy. “Can I do anything to help?”
She waved her hand. “No, you two go somewhere and get to know each other. I’ll call you when I’ve got it fixed.”
He studied Jordan for a moment. What was this Jordan like? She wasn’t a teenager anymore. He suddenly wanted to know the woman standing before him. Maybe then they could be the team Nicholas needed. “We’ll be out on the porch.”
“Great. It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
Outside Nicholas sat on the top stair next to Zachary. His son set his forearms on his thighs just like him, clasping his hands loosely.
“Did you ask Mom to come?”
“No, but I guess yesterday she saw how pitiful my food supply is.”
“She’s perceptive like that.”
“Yeah, and better organized than I am.”
“I find if you’re organized it saves a lot of useless time looking for things you’ve misplaced.”
Zachary chuckled. “You’re one hundred percent right. You two will have to rub off on me.”
“How did you and Mom meet?”
The question flooded him with memories—all good ones. “I was on the football team in high school. A fullback. It was the first game, and not far from where I was sitting on the bench waiting for the offens
e to get their turn to play, I spied your mom cheering. She was the new one on the squad. I caught her gaze. As we were staring at each other, she missed her move and the girl next to her ran into her. She blushed a nice shade of red. Matched her uniform. Of course, after the game I had to apologize.”
“So you two started dating?”
The journey into the past prodded good memories into his mind. But she wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the same, either. Zachary kneaded the cords of his neck. Too tight—tight as the cinch on a saddle. “Well, not exactly. It took me a few weeks to wear her down. She was embarrassed in front of the student body. A piece of advice for the future. Not the best way to meet a gal.”
“You played football. I don’t know anything about the game. Isn’t it just a bunch of guys trying to hurt each other?”
“I can see where you might think that. When I played, I learned teamwork.”
Nicholas’s gaze skimmed down his length. “I’m too small to play football.”
“The game isn’t for everyone. There are other sports if you want to do something like that. Soccer doesn’t depend on size. Have you thought of that?”
His son shook his head. “I’m not very coordinated.”
“I could work with you if you want to practice handling a ball.” Zachary placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “But you don’t have to. It’s your call. Just know I’ll help you any way you want.”
Nicholas flashed him a huge grin.
In that second a bond formed between him and his son. Emotions he’d guarded welled up into his throat, sealing words inside—words he wasn’t good at saying.
“Breakfast is served.” Jordan stood at the screen door.
Zachary swallowed several times and breathed in the coffee-laced air. “You fixed coffee, too?” The wobble in his voice hung suspended for a few seconds between them.
“Sure. I know how you like it. I pitched yours.” She winced. “I’m gonna have to teach you how to brew a good cup.”
She’d always been a good cook. “I may take you up on that.” Zachary rose, brushing his hand down his jeans.
Nicholas did the same thing, dust flying everywhere. Zachary needed to sweep his steps. His son began coughing. Jordan started toward him but stopped halfway there and remained still.
“Did you bring apple juice?” Nicholas asked after sucking in several deep breaths.
“Your dad still had some left from yesterday. I poured you a glass. It’s on the table.”
Nicholas hurried into the house while Zachary said, “Housekeeping has never been my forte.”
“To tell you the truth it isn’t mine, either. Give me something to cook and I’m happy. Give me a dust rag and I find a way to get out of it.”
Zachary swiped a hand across his forehead. “Whew, I’m relieved. It’s bad enough I don’t cook well, but I hated to fall short in every area.”
Jordan paused in the foyer. “This isn’t a competition.”
“I know but I’ve spent a good part of my life competing—first on the football field and then in the rodeo ring.”
“What did you two talk about?”
He grinned and winked at her. “How you and I met.”
A faint blush tinted her cheeks, again reminding him of their first encounter. “Did you mention I fell flat on my bottom in front of a stadium full of people?”
“Sort of, but I took full blame for the accident.”
“Oh, that is so reassuring.” Jordan marched past him.
He admired how cute she was when she blushed. Putting the brakes on the directions his thoughts were going, he shook his head then proceeded into the kitchen a few steps behind her. Friends—that was all they could be now.
“Where have you guys been? I’m starving.”
“Did you wash your hands?” Jordan asked as she sat across from her son.
Zachary diverted his path to the sink and made sure he did exactly what Jordan had asked Nicholas. He had to set a good example for his son.
“Yes, I did. I know how important good hygiene is. So many of our germs are spread by hand contact. That’s why they stress washing so much during flu season.”
Zachary listened to his son launch into the health risk when people didn’t follow that simple rule, even quoting a medical source. That was when he knew he was in over his head and drowning.
Two days later on Saturday afternoon Jordan turned into the ranch to pick up her son after he’d spent another night at Zachary’s. When Nicholas had returned home after the first time, all he could talk about was how neat it was to own a ranch. He had her take him to the library and he got every book he could find on the subject of horses. As she pulled up next to Zachary’s Ford F-150 truck near the barn, she wondered how the joint grocery store trip went last evening. He had wanted Nicholas to go with him so he got all their son’s favorite food.
As Jana strolled with Alexa toward an SUV, Jordan climbed from her Camaro and waved. With quick steps she covered the area between them. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
Alexa grinned. “I hear you’re taking the plunge and homeschooling Nicholas.”
“Yeah, and I’m suddenly freaking out. What if I don’t do a good job? What was I thinking that I could teach my child? I haven’t had any training at all. This week was my first, and I felt so out of my comfort zone.”
“You aren’t alone. Ian told me he felt the same way when he first started. Probably still does.”
“But he has you. You’re almost through with your education degree.”
Alexa leaned close as Jana climbed into the front seat of the SUV. “I have my doubts at least once a week. It’s a big decision to become solely responsible for a child’s education. The fact you don’t take it lightly means you’ll do fine.”
“I was hoping to catch you today. I want to sign Nicholas up for Ian’s new class.”
“Great. I’ll tell him. It starts next week on Wednesday at one.”
Releasing a sigh, Jordan relaxed. “At least that’s one worry taken care of. But then I’ll have to relearn algebra all over again in order to help him. I bought a book this morning. It’s been years since I had any.”
“If you get stuck, I’m sure Ian will help you.” Alexa opened her door and settled behind the steering wheel. “You could even take the class with Nicholas.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about that.” Jordan headed forward. That was one problem she could mark off her long list. She’d started reading the curriculum she’d borrowed from Nancy. If it fit Nicholas, she would purchase the books and use them as a framework to teach him. Having a structure at least made her feel better—like a pilot having a flight plan.
Inside the barn she paused at the entrance to scan the area for her son. Out the back double doors she glimpsed him with Zachary. As she ambled toward them, Zachary demonstrated how to rope a steer by using a bale of hay with a cow head made of plastic stuck in one end.
When Nicholas took his rope and swung it over his head from right to left, Zachary said, “Keep swinging, but bring it out in front of you and remember when you release it to point your finger toward the steer.”
Nicholas let go and the loop landed on the hay. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Yes, you can. It just takes practice.” Zachary released his rope, and it sailed over the horn and around the fake steer’s head.
“And why would you want to do it?” Jordan asked as she came up to the pair.
Eyes round, Nicholas stared at Zachary. “It’s part of being a cowboy.”
“A cowboy? Since when did you want to be one?” The last time she’d talked with her son, he’d wanted to be an engineer. Of course, that was before he’d found out Zachary was his father.
Her son straightened, his shoulders back. “I want to help Dad on the ranch. I’ve got to know these things.”
The second Nicholas said Dad Zachary beamed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I was showing him how to throw a rope. He was asking me about s
ome of the activities I’ve done in a rodeo.”
“Rodeo! No, sir. You won’t go near a rodeo.”
“Why not? Once I learn to ride, I can do all kinds of things. I’ve seen some videos on the Internet. There’s barrel racing, for one.”
There were those words again. What was it about dangerous sports and men? The time Zachary had flown off his horse, racing, and crashed into the dirt flashed through her mind. For long seconds he hadn’t moved, and it seemed as if her heart had stopped beating for that time. When he finally had stirred, he’d broken his arm. Jordan stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets to still their trembling. The image of Zachary injured blurred with a similar picture of her son, lying still, in pain. She couldn’t separate the two in her mind. The insight stunned her. Did she still have deep feelings for Zachary?
He clasped Nicholas on the shoulder. “I think that’s enough practice for today. Why don’t you go say goodbye to Chief?”
Her son peered from Zachary to her then back. “Sure. I’ll mosey on over to the paddock. Let me know when you two finish jawing.”
Jordan’s mouth fell open at the sound of Nicholas trying to imitate some cowboy from a B movie. “What have you done to my son?”
“Nothing. He wanted me to show him the ropes of being a rancher today. He rode with me to check some fences, helped me fix one section. We stacked hay bales. He learned to muck out a stall.”
“Muck out a stall? Nicholas?” He rarely got down and dirty.
“Yep, little lady, you’ve got that right.” Hooking his thumbs in his waistband, Zachary winked at her.
“I can’t believe…” Her words spluttered to a halt like a runaway calf roped by a cowboy.
Nicholas was a scholar. He lived in books and loved to read and study. Yes, he should do some physical activity, but mucking a stall and stacking hay bales was hard work. Filthy work. “I agreed that my son could learn to ride a horse, but that was all. Nothing else beyond that and certainly nothing that might lead him to believe he could perform in a rodeo. Look what happened to you.” She gestured toward Zachary’s leg that had been broken while riding a bull, bred to buck and twist and trample anyone in its way. At least that was what Nicholas had told her.
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