Home on the Ranch: Unexpected Daddy

by Pamela Britton

  But he’d bend over backward for Olivia. He was that kind of man.

  Chapter 11

  That Sunday, as Charlotte drove out to the Gillian Ranch, she wondered at the way her hands shook and her belly tightened.

  She passed between acres and acres of pasture, the valley opening up in front of her revealing the vineyards on both sides of the road and then, beyond that, the stables to her right and the homes up on the hills behind them. He’d told her his father had the place on the right and so she kept to the left, cresting a small hill and then dipping into another small valley before she began to climb up another hill. When she reached the top, the trees opened up and a single-story Spanish-style home sprawled out in front of her, one with thick, square columns along the front and large windows whose panes of glass were divided by wood frames. Parked outside were a number of vehicles, mostly trucks, all of them probably at least a dozen years newer than her own beat-up old Ford car. She spent her money on things she probably shouldn’t pay for—like diapers and baby formula and clothing, things the state paid for, too, but there never seemed to be enough.

  “Alrighty.” The word sounded like a sigh even to her own ears, and she clutched the steering wheel for a moment before taking a deep breath and slipping into the warm spring air.

  She’d had no idea just how high she’d climbed until she caught a view of the valley out behind the house. Off in the distance, to her left, she could see Maverick’s father’s home; it was lower and partially shielded by trees. Down below her the vineyard looked like a bumpy lawn. The leaves were a vivid green compared to the grass-covered pastures that surrounded it, the oak trees that dotted the horizon nearly a gunmetal gray. It was like a giant puzzle from her vantage point, a key-shaped vineyard, a rectangular pasture, the zigzag lines of rock wall, all that open space shaded in different greens.

  “There she is,” said Crystal, the woman she’d met with at Maverick’s home, and in her arms was Olivia, the little girl having put on so much weight in such a short amount of time that Charlotte barely recognized her. “Say hello, Olivia.”

  The little girl eyed her curiously, but there was something different about her eyes, and it took her a moment to pinpoint what it was.

  Happy.

  The eyes were no longer dull and lifeless. Now they seemed lit up from inside, as a world of curiosities had presented themselves and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it all.

  It made her want to cry.

  “Say hi,” Crystal repeated.

  The little girl lifted a hand and then said as clear as day, “Hello.”

  This...this was why she did what she did for a living, why she made so many sacrifices, the reason she’d dedicated her life to helping children.

  “Well, hello,” Charlotte said right back, closing the distance between them. “May I hold her?”

  “Of course,” Crystal said. “But be careful. She’s a wiggle worm these days. She’s learned how to run, or maybe she always knew, but she refuses to slow down now.”

  Charlotte wondered if Olivia recognized the woman who’d found her amid such squalor, if maybe she would associate her presence with her past. It happened sometimes. But the little girl had clearly put the past behind her because she smiled and willingly sank into her arms.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said softly. “How are you?”

  “Come on in,” Crystal said.

  She was grateful for Olivia’s presence when she walked into a home as spacious and beautiful as she’d imagined—like the lobby of an upscale hotel with its tile floors and lush plants that crouched in corners. The little girl was like a shield that she held tight because Maverick’s family wasn’t just big, it was huge—at least half-a-dozen pairs of eyes turned toward her when she walked in. A massive kitchen opened up to her left, a waist-high island in the middle where two dark-haired men sat.

  “Everyone, this is Charlotte. She’s the social worker we were telling you all about.”

  There was a chorus of hellos before Crystal turned back to her, long gray hair falling over one shoulder. She pointed to the family room that opened up in front of them. “So, sitting on the couch is my husband, Bob, and next to him is my niece, Jayden, and her daughter, Paisley. On the couch opposite her is her husband, Colby. And next to him is my nephew Carson. His wife, Ava, is working, but his daughter, Bella, is around here somewhere.”

  “She’s down at the barn,” said Carson. “Flynn will be bringing her up later.”

  “Well, that figures,” said Crystal with a smile. “Flynn is another nephew of mine. And over there in the kitchen are two of my sons.”

  She pointed to the kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine with its granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. “That’s Tyler there on the right with the cowboy hat on. And opposite him is Terrence. And of course, you know Maverick there by the fridge.”

  Her body reacted in a weird way when she met his gaze, not that he seemed to notice. She clutched Olivia even closer. The little girl had spotted him, though, and leaned toward him, arms outstretched.

  “Want.”

  “You want something to drink?” he asked the little girl, smiling at her. “What about you? You want something?”

  “Uh, sure.” It seemed as if all the moisture in her mouth had gone away. He wore a blue-checkered shirt that matched the color of his eyes and jeans cinched tight by a leather belt, a gold-and-silver buckle catching the light. “Water.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said the one named Tyler.

  “Same,” said Terrence, his blue eyes catching on the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Here.” Maverick brought Olivia a sippy cup, but she batted it away.

  “Want.” She held out her arms and it was clear what she wanted. Maverick.

  “Here, let me take her,” said his aunt.

  No. She didn’t want to give Olivia up.

  “Come to auntie, sweet pea.” Crystal smiled at her. “If I don’t get her out of here soon, she’ll have a full-on meltdown. The poor thing is head over heels for my nephew, but I’m not surprised. He spoils her rotten.”

  Maverick’s brows lifted beneath a black cowboy hat. “I do not.”

  “You do, too,” Crystal said, taking Olivia from her.

  Charlotte had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. The two good-looking men at the counter went back to talking about grapes and barrels and something else. Someone laughed in the family room, Jayden’s husband. She’d never been in the presence of such a huge family in her life. The Gillian men weren’t like ordinary men. Each of them was tall and broad shouldered and so tan you could tell they spent their lives out of doors. For the first time she understood the appeal of cowboys. They seemed to ooze raw masculinity.

  “Here.” Maverick smiled as he handed her a bottled water. She took it, twisting off the lid and taking a sip all the while wondering if there was a way to slip outside. Even though the house was huge, it felt crowded inside.

  “Want!” Olivia cried, the word startling everyone in the house into silence.

  “See,” Crystal called. “This is what happens when you spoil a child. I swear, Maverick. You’re going to turn her into a daddy’s girl if you’re not careful.”

  Charlotte was staring right at him, and so she saw the way his eyes flickered and the way his mouth flinched. She knew the word daddy had hit a nerve. When their gazes connected, he smiled at her sheepishly.

  “I guess I should go hide.”

  “Actually, I was kind of hoping we could talk privately?”

  He nodded. “Sure.” He motioned for her to follow. “Guys, we’re going to the lookout. Be back.”

  “Good,” said his aunt. “Take your time. Maybe I can get her put down for a nap with you out of the way.”

  She would never have expected Olivia to take to Maverick like she had. It
made her wonder why it surprised her so much. Probably because he’d been so reluctant to take her at first and Olivia had been so clearly traumatized by her past. But maybe that was why the little girl had become so attached. He was probably the first person to shower her with love, and the thought made her throat thicken all over again.

  “This way.” He headed past the parked vehicles and toward a path off to their left, one that led up a slight incline. They faced west, the hill the home sat upon eclipsed by a slightly bigger one behind it. Trees dotted the hillside on their left and right, the path she followed worn down by countless feet. She could see the imprint of boot heels in the dirt.

  “So, does the whole family work the ranch?” she asked.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked. He smelled like leather and talcum powder, and it made her blush that she’d even noticed it.

  “Yep, my siblings work for the ranch and my cousins the vineyard. Everyone but my sister.”

  “Oh?” She took another swig of her water. “Ranch life not for her?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He kicked a rock, the thing bouncing ahead of them. “Jayden was never into working cattle or growing grapes. She loves horses, but then she had a baby right out of high school and it was this whole big deal.” He stared at the dirt path in front of them. “Some low-life scumbag knocked her up, and it upset my dad enough that he kicked her off the ranch.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I know, but that was right around the time my mom died. Tough time for us all. I don’t think my dad was in his right mind. But then he had heart problems and it sort of changed his whole outlook, I think.”

  “So they patched things up?”

  “Yup. It’s not often Reese Gillian admits he’s wrong, but he did last year. By then Paisley was two years old.”

  A massive oak tree loomed ahead, one with branches that hung heavy with age, the tips of the leaves touching the ground. It was so huge it had to have been growing in that spot forever. Valley oaks, they were called—the Spanish had loved them for the shade they provided. It sat atop the hill like the crown jewel of the ranch.

  “My sister met a man where she works. She married him earlier this year.”

  “Do they live on the ranch, too?”

  “No-ho-ho-ho.” He was smiling. “She still stubbornly refuses to work here even though my dad told her she could start her own therapy program at the ranch. That’s what she does for a living, hippotherapy.”

  “That’s horse therapy, right? For people with PTSD and stuff?” she asked.

  They’d reached the tree, its shade providing welcome relief from the sun, and—oh, boy—the vista in front of her was a sight to see.

  “Wow,” she said.

  He perched on the corner of the picnic table, leaning back and staring out at the view below them. “Something else, right?”

  From atop the hill she could see Via Del Caballo in the distance, the buildings and streets patches of gray set in the middle of green grassland. The Gillians’ property line could be seen, too, ducking in and out from between the hills, and she realized they owned far more land than she’d thought. The rock wall that encircled the property went on for miles and miles.

  “How much land do you guys own?”

  “Enough that caring for it is a full-time job. And, yeah, hippotherapy is done with horses. My sister works with disabled vets at Dark Horse Ranch right down the road.”

  She sat down next to him on the top of the picnic table, resting her feet on the bench that peeked out from beneath it, staring down at the patches of green and brown beneath her and marveling.

  “I’ve always wondered if it really works,” she said.

  “You should talk to my sister about it. She swears by it. I’d bet her program would be great for troubled kids, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Horses have an amazing effect on people.”

  “Do they?”

  Blue eyes the color of the ocean stared back at her. “I think it’d work wonders with some of your kids.”

  She swallowed, looked away. Now that she was faced with actually posing the question she’d come out here to ask, it seemed like such a far-fetched idea.

  “I actually have another favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  She took a deep breath. When in doubt, dive right in. “I was wondering if you’d like to take Olivia permanently.”

  He drew back in surprise, but then his face softened as he stared into the distance. “To tell you the truth, Charlotte, I’ve been kind of wondering about that myself.”

  Her heart stopped beating in her chest. She couldn’t stop from touching him. “Oh, Maverick, if you did that...”

  She couldn’t speak over the emotions just the thought of it did to her insides. She’d never, not ever, felt the urge to kiss a man, but she did right then, and it made her turn away, stare at her hands.

  “I think if you did that Olivia would be one very lucky little girl.”

  “Not sure how I’ll manage it, but what parent does, huh?”

  “You’re so right. No one ever really knows what they’re in for, but somehow they always manage it.”

  “And I’m already doing a good job. I think.”

  She pulled her hand back, but only because she suddenly realized she’d kept it there and that she’d wanted to clasp his hand and she shouldn’t do that. She had to ball her hand into a fist.

  “You’re doing a great job.”

  He smiled. “Thanks.” Then his smile faded, the flicker of emotions on his face telling her he grappled with what he’d just offered.

  “When would I have to let you know if that’s what I decide to do?”

  Her hands were clenched so tight she felt her nails digging into her palms. “By the first court date, when the judge officially rules on her parentage.” She swung toward him again, having forgotten about the paperwork she’d received. “You did get a copy of the DNA results, didn’t you?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I did. Not that I didn’t know already, but it was good to see it there in writing.”

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I’m not surprised you did.” His smile turned rueful. “In your line of work, I’m sure men and women lie all the time.”

  She nodded. “They do.”

  “I hope you decide to do it, Maverick. I really do.”

  Something changed in the air, something that made her heart beat faster as he stared down at her. A warmth began to build, and a tingling in her limbs and extremities made her breath catch. She saw his gaze drop to her lips, just for a heartbeat but long enough that they warmed in anticipation of something that had her looking away again, and that made her fingers clench even more and had her insides doing cartwheels.

  “Why do you do that?” he asked softly.

  “What?”

  “Look away from me all the time.”

  She met his gaze square on then. “I don’t.”

  He smiled softly, and the cartwheels inside her turned into a free fall that made her want to do exactly what he accused her of. He was right. She had a hard time holding his gaze.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  The question was so on point, so close to the truth that she held on to her obstinacy with both hands. But she wasn’t afraid of him.

  “No,” she answered honestly.

  She was afraid of herself.

  Chapter 12

  She reminded him of the kittens that had been born in the barn. One wrong move and they’d dart away.

  “What happened to you to make you so shy?” he asked.

  “I’m not shy.”

  Maybe he’d used the wrong word, he thought, pulling his gaze away and staring out at the view that he’d always taken for granted. Sure, he
recognized its beauty, but it was in the same way one would admire a painting one passed in a hallway every day of their life. It was just there.

  “You’re so committed to kids, but you don’t have any kids of your own,” he said.

  “I don’t need kids of my own. I have dozens already.”

  “But don’t you want a family? Your own family?” Her eyes were cast down again, and he knew he’d struck a nerve somehow.

  “My work is my family.”

  She really was a beauty, he thought, her skin as smooth as his favorite silk shirt. It glowed as if a professional photographer had chosen the lighting. And her eyes. They were brown, but earlier he’d spotted bits of green in them, and her lashes were so long they were like dark webs against her cheeks. But in the depths of her gaze he spotted an insecurity that belied the confidence she tried to exude.

  “Whoever he was, he really did a number on you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her brows had lifted, and she leaned away from him in a way meant to stop him from questioning her further.

  “We’re not all bad, you know.”

  Her chin flicked up as if he’d challenged her sanity. “My dedication to kids has nothing to do with a broken heart, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She’d left her hair down, a lock of it blowing across her face. He was tempted to tuck it behind her ear, a gesture he knew she wouldn’t welcome.

  “You were a foster child, weren’t you?”

  Another bull’s-eye. Her mouth flattened, eyes narrowing. She wanted to look away. He could tell by the way her chin trembled as she forced herself to face him head-on. His estimation of her went up another notch.

  “And it wasn’t a happy home, was it?”

  “We should be getting back.”

  She started to stand. He clasped her hand. When she tried to pull away, he held on to her, like it was a lead rope and an unbroken mare on the end. Her eyes grew big.

  Fear.

  He let go of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Her chin trembled, and it felt like his stomach rolled over in his belly. It started a chain reaction, his throat thickening and gut kicking. She’d been abused. Badly.