“I don’t snore,” Connor said, surprising himself with his defensive tone.
Amelia turned to Dahlia who’d managed to find a new spoon and was now shoveling ice cream into her mouth so quickly, it was a wonder she didn’t have brain freeze. “Mommy, does Connor snore?”
He lifted a brow at her, daring to admit in front of her ex-husband and the eavesdropping teenaged ice cream scooper that she’d already spent the night with him.
“Okay, everyone,” Dahlia said after she swallowed a final gulp of mint chip. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Connor is going to stay at his house on the Rocking D. Amelia is going to stay our apartment above Big Millie’s. And Micah is going to stay...wherever he finds a place to stay that isn’t the Rocking D or Big Millie’s. And I am going to go home right now before I keep stress eating ice cream and barking orders like my mother usually does.”
“Don’t let Sherilee hear you saying that,” Micah said, then chuckled. Because of course he was already privy to all the inside jokes about the King family. “Alright, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby girl.”
Amelia grudgingly told her father good-night and when Dahlia disconnected the phone, she shoved it into her jacket pocket. As though she was shoving from her mind all the drama the little device had just conveyed.
“So I guess this is what you meant by complicated?” Connor offered, trying to make light of the situation.
“What’s complicated?” Amelia asked.
“Life, Peanut,” Dahlia answered truthfully, then shook her head as if to clear it. “Anyway, tell Connor thanks for the pizza and the ice cream. Let’s get Andy Pandy home so you can read him a book before bed.”
Amelia picked up the stuffed bear and gave a dejected sigh. “Thanks for the pizza, Connor.”
He walked them home, which was only a block away, and then spent the next twelve hours trying not to think about how one phone call had steered him so thoroughly off course.
The following morning, his phone vibrated in his back pocket and his senses went on full alert when he saw his mother’s contact info on the screen.
They usually only talked on Sundays, so it was pretty out of character for her to be calling him in the middle of the week. “Hey, Ma. Is everything okay?”
“Well, I guess that depends. I went to see the dermatologist and he removed the mole to test it for cancer.”
“Did you get the biopsy results already?”
“No. But that’s not why I’m calling. When I was in the waiting room, I ran into someone.”
Connor put the call on speaker and set the phone down on the workbench so he could talk while repairing the sliding mechanism on the trailer door latch. When his mom didn’t continue talking, he asked, “You still there?”
“Do you remember when we lived in that apartment off Melville?”
“I remember living in a couple of places off Melville.”
“The one by the park where you played Little League?”
“Oh...yeah, sure.”
“Do you remember playing on that baseball team with the coach named Greg? He...uh...he and I went out a few times?”
“Of course. I loved Coach Greg. He had all those cool stories about being a Marine. He was probably the biggest influence on me enlisting.”
What Connor didn’t say was that the months his mom had dated Greg had been the best of his childhood. The guy had been easygoing and treated his mom right and would’ve made a great stepdad.
Of course, his parents weren’t divorced at the time, which posed a problem. Whenever Connor’s dad would be in jail, his mom would swear she was going to leave him for good. That year, he’d hoped that she would keep her promise because he really liked Coach Greg. But then Steve got released, and just like every other time when his old man was fresh out of jail, he’d sworn he was going to stay sober, and his mom had gone back to him.
“Well, that’s who I saw at the doctor’s office. I guess he had a few sunspots he was getting checked out. But we started talking and one thing led to another and, well, he asked me out to dinner this weekend.”
“That’s great, Ma. What’s the problem?”
“I wasn’t sure if you would approve or not. You were pretty mad at me when I broke up with him.”
“I was twelve back then. I’m thirty-two now. You don’t need my approval to date anyone.”
“It probably won’t work out, anyway. I can’t believe he even recognized me with all my gray hair. Maybe I should just call the whole thing off.”
“Ma,” Connor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stop being so cynical all the time. What do you have to lose by going out with Greg? You deserve to be with a nice guy.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before she finally sighed. “Okay. Then I’ll meet him for dinner. He asked about you, you know? You should’ve seen him smile when I told him you’d joined the Marines. He said he’d always known you’d do big things.”
Hearing his mom repeat Greg’s words made Connor’s rib cage ache with the gratification he’d never gotten to hear from his own father. How could a man who’d only been in his life for six short months have made such a big impact on him?
After he hung up with his mom, he sat on the stool and stared emptily at the workbench. Wow. How much different would his life have been if she’d stayed with Greg instead of going back to Steve?
How much different would Amelia’s life be if Dahlia dated Connor instead of going back to Micah?
Not that she was going back to her ex. Just because the man was coming to town for a few months didn’t mean that Dahlia would throw Connor over for him. Or that Micah didn’t deserve a chance to win his family back.
Great. Now he was sounding like his mom, focusing on everything that could go wrong. Still. He knew all the signs of what was coming and he didn’t want to influence what was ultimately Dahlia’s decision. She alone needed to figure out what would be best for Amelia. In the meantime, maybe he should distance himself a little while they sorted out what Micah’s return might mean to all of them.
* * *
Dahlia was foolish to think she could simply get Connor out of her system after just one night together. If seeing him with her daughter these past couple of months wasn’t enough to make her fall for him, seeing him sharing common interests with Woody and then putting Jay Grover in his place would’ve cemented things for her. In fact, she’d wanted to invite him back to her apartment instead of going to the Frozen Frontier with him. Amelia already referred to him as her boyfriend, so would it be a stretch to explain that Connor wanted to have breakfast with them when her daughter saw him at the kitchen table the following morning?
She’d been hoping to ease everyone into the idea of Connor becoming a part of their lives, but then Micah announced he was returning to Teton Ridge, which immediately threw them all into a tense discussion she hadn’t been ready for. Then Micah made that stupid crack about the possibility of them not getting along and Connor had snapped back, and Dahlia wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to take on the role of mediator.
When she saw Connor at the bank on Thursday, Dahlia asked if he wanted to grab some lunch at Biscuit Betty’s or even take a sandwich over to the park. She’d hoped that spending a few minutes alone together would help her get a feel for how he was handling the recent development. Although he was friendly, his eyes didn’t quite meet hers when he said he had Goatee in the truck and needed to get him home. Everyone knew that he took his dog to “socialization” classes at the dog park at least once a week.
She couldn’t read his mind, but it didn’t take a fortune-teller to see the writing on the wall. While she had no intention of getting back together with her ex-husband, they were also navigating what had become a multi-pronged relationship. Micah was the father of her child, and if that wasn’t enough, he was also good friends with several members of h
er family—Duke and Marcus, not Finn—and they’d grown up in the same town. Hell, they were friends with many of the same people. Of course, Connor would have doubts about where that left him.
Maybe he was pulling back to protect himself. And maybe she should let him.
As Dahlia was finishing the inventory in the stock room on Friday morning, a task she always did before taking off for the weekend, the motion sensor at the front door of Big Millie’s chimed. When she went to see if it was a delivery, she was shocked to see Sherliee King standing right inside the door, her knit suit and Italian leather pumps looking completely out of place in the Wild West–styled bar.
Aunt Freckles slammed into the back of her sister-in-law. “Something wrong with your legs, Sherilee? You’re holding up traffic here.”
Now, there was a woman who looked completely at home in a honky-tonk. Freckles’s jeans were painted on legs that weren’t quite as slim as they had been thirty years ago, and her black leather jacket boasted a motorcycle club patch that was probably as authentic as she was.
“Well, I’d move, Freckles,” her mom snapped, “but your tacky rhinestone belt buckle is now stuck to the back of my knit jacket. You should be more careful. I mean, this is St. John, for God’s sake.”
Dahlia sprang into action and came around the bar to help her mother disentangle the tiny crystals snagged between the delicate knitted fibers of the silk. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
“I figured it was finally time I come check out this place for myself.” Her mother had never been shy letting Dahlia know exactly what she thought about the family heritage behind Big Millie’s. Sherilee nodded at the ornate staircase that led to a remodeled balcony with only five feet of the original railing remaining. “I see you got rid of all those doors upstairs where the former residents used to entertain their customers.”
“Not totally rid of them. I just walled off everything past the balcony and turned them into our private apartment.”
Her mom’s cosmetically sculpted nose barely quivered as she sucked in a deep breath of indignation. “Really, Dahlia. You’re as bad as Finn sometimes.”
Freckles winked at her as she bit back her smile. It was a King family pastime to shock the normally unflappable and tightly reserved Sherilee King. Dahlia was glad to know she hadn’t lost her touch since moving off the ranch.
“Since you’re here, can I get you a glass of wine or a vodka soda or something?”
“I’ll take a margarita if it’s no trouble,” Freckles replied.
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” her mom said. “What kind of self-respecting establishment sells liquor at this time of day?”
“Luckily, I know the owner,” Dahlia replied as she walked behind the bar. “And if you’re real nice, I’ll give you the family discount.”
Her mother rubbed at a nonexistent crease on her Botox-enhanced forehead. “Fine. I’ll take a vodka martini. Extra dirty.”
“Ooh, change my margarita to one of those.” Freckles snapped her fingers, the long nails painted the same shade of coral as her lipstick. “We might need the big guns to get through this.”
Dahlia grabbed the stainless-steel shaker from the shelf under the bar. “What happened?”
“I found out I’m receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom this weekend,” Sherilee said the same way one might say that they found out the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. “Several of the representatives from the charities I’ve worked with will be there.”
“Wow!” Dahlia blinked. “That’s an incredible honor, Mom. Why are you so worried about it?”
“Because we’ve got a lot riding on this plan.”
Dahlia was afraid to ask, but couldn’t help herself. “What plan?”
Freckles then went into detail about an elaborate scheme she and Sherilee had plotted to get Tessa to the White House, where they’d have Grayson Wyatt, the Secret Service agent her sister had fallen in love with, waiting there to propose.
“Yeah, I can see why you’d think that something like that could totally backfire on you.” Dahlia was tempted to pour herself a martini, as well. “So you came here to have me talk you out of it, right?”
Her mother and aunt exchanged a look before her mom shook her head. “No, the plan is in place. But we need all you kids there so Tessa doesn’t get suspicious.”
“This Sunday? As in less than forty-eight hours?”
“Actually, we would need to take the Gulfstream over to DC tomorrow so we can get everything in place.”
Dahlia shook her head. “No can do. Micah is supposed to arrive first thing tomorrow morning. Amelia is spending the day with him.”
“Perfect.” Her mom clapped her hands together. “That means you’re free to go with us.”
“You want me to leave my child behind?”
“No, I want you to leave her with her father. Micah Deacon is perfectly capable of taking care of his daughter for one night. Possibly two if things go sideways and we have to chase after Tessa.”
“But she’s never stayed anywhere without me, other than at the Twin Kings with you guys. Even when I take her to visit Micah in Nashville, we usually stay together in the guesthouse on his property.” Oh, jeez. Hearing the words coming out of her own mouth, Dahlia realized she sounded exactly as controlling as Sherilee. Was she really that much of a helicopter mom?
“You could have Micah stay with her here. I mean upstairs.” Sherilee shuddered as she said the word. “Where she’ll have her own bed and toys and everything is familiar to her.”
“No, Mom. I don’t want my ex-husband sleeping in my bedroom.”
“You only have the two bedrooms upstairs now?” Freckles looked up at the ceiling. “I could’ve sworn there used to be at least eight of them up there back in the day.”
Her mother threw back the rest of her martini. “Then have Micah stay with her out at the ranch. Only the staff and a small security detail will be there since we’ll all be in DC. Amelia’ll be comfortable and it has a ton of extra bedrooms that were never used for illicit purposes.”
“Not as far as you know,” Freckles murmured into the rim of her glass. She swallowed, then added, “Honestly, darlin’, I don’t think lil’ Amelia is gonna want to go to DC. Could you imagine having to sit through that boring presentation and all the ridiculous speeches?”
“Hey!” Her mom shot her aunt a pointed look. “I’m making one of those ridiculous speeches.”
“My point exactly.” Freckles made a saluting motion with her martini glass. “Let her stay in Teton Ridge with her daddy and enjoy some one-on-one time with him.”
Dahlia slowly felt her resolve slipping. Then Sherilee played her final hand. “Even Duke will be flying into DC for the occasion. Hopefully, Tom won’t have any surgeries scheduled and can drive over from Walter Reed to meet us.”
Not only did Dahlia miss her big brother, she needed to find out what was going on between him and his husband. “Fine. I’ll ask Micah if he’s okay with it when I talk to him tonight. But you better not let Finn know he’s staying at the Twin Kings.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Her mom held up her empty glass. “This was one of the best I’ve ever had. And for what it’s worth, I really do like what you’ve done with the place. It’s got both charm and that bit of Western rustic chic that probably makes it a big draw for all those people on social media trying to post whimsical old-timey pictures. In fact, you know what would look great right there on the wall by that picture of Big Millie? That portrait of your dad’s grandma. I’m thinking of redecorating and, needless to say, it really doesn’t go with my vision.”
“You mean the portrait of Little Millie?” Dahlia scrunched her face. Her great-grandmother might’ve been an excellent businesswoman and gambler, but the painting of her hanging over the fireplace at the Twin Kings was equal parts gawdy and intimidating. She al
ways seemed to be watching everyone. “No, thanks. Aunt Freckles, maybe you and Uncle Rider would want it for the cabin?”
“Are you kidding?” Freckles shook her head so hard the loose skin around her neck jiggled like Gobster’s. “That woman scared the hell out of me when she was alive. I don’t want her mean, judgy face looking over me and Rider when we’re getting naked on the bear skin rug in front of his fireplace.”
“For the love of God, Freckles!” Sherilee slapped both of her palms over her eyes like a blindfold. “I’ll never be able to unsee that image.”
“I’m serious, though,” Freckles said. “Ol’ Grandma Millie gives me the creeps. Did you know that Rider once told me she still talks to him? Gives him advice and such?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sherilee scoffed, right before she shoved three blue cheese–stuffed olives in her mouth in quick succession. “She’s been dead for fifty years now. If the talking portrait of a dead woman was giving advice in my home, don’t you think I’d know it?”
Freckles tsked. “She probably doesn’t talk to you because she knows you wouldn’t listen, anyway.”
Dahlia was still chuckling when her mother and aunt walked out of the bar a few minutes later, bickering as much as they had been when they’d first arrived. She finished her inventory, then spoke to Micah after his procedure. Even though he was still a bit loopy from the anesthesia, he was looking forward to having Amelia with him for the whole night. He’d also suggested that Finn not know he would be staying at the Twin Kings, but that could’ve just been the aftereffects of the pain meds talking.
That night, even though things were still awkward between her and Connor, she didn’t feel right leaving town without talking to him. She dialed his number, and he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“Yes, why?” she asked, pulling her small suitcase out of the closet and hefting it onto her bed.
“Because you’ve never called me before.”
Making Room for the Rancher Page 16