Untamed Cowboy. Maisey Yates
“It’s about your son, Mr. Dodge.”
Bennett frowned, no immediate emotional reaction bubbling up to the surface. Mostly because the guy was just plain wrong. He had to be.
“I don’t have a son,” Bennett said.
“The paperwork I have says you do. You’re welcome to contest that. But what I have is a kid that’s going to end up in a group home if he can’t stay with his father.”
As if on cue the door to that SUV opened and a woman in a severe-looking outfit got out, followed by a teenage boy. Fifteen years old or so, Bennett figured.
Brown hair, tall, lanky. And he looked up at Bennett with simmering fury in brown eyes that matched Bennett’s perfectly.
“Hi, Dad,” he said. “I guess it’s been a while.”
“YOUR MOTHER IS Marnie Claire?”
Bennett was sitting at the kitchen table across from the boy and the social worker. The police officer was outside. Apparently, he had been required to act as an escort because the social worker wasn’t confident in her ability to keep the boy from running off. The boy. Dallas.
Dallas Dodge.
That was his name. His legal name. Though, Bennett had had no idea of his existence. In fact, Bennett had been told that the pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage. He had lived with it like a weight ever since. Everything he had heard about Marnie, what had happened to her, the kind of life she had fallen into. He had blamed himself. She had been so distraught when she had broken up with him. When she had left and he had been convinced that any dire straits she was in was partly his fault. But if any of this was true, if this was his son... Then she had lied to him. She had lied to him almost sixteen years ago.
And he was a father.
To a teenager.
Dammit to hell.
“That’s right,” the social worker, who was named Grace, answered the question for Dallas.
“How old are you?” Bennett said, addressing the kid straight on. Talking around him was insulting, and even if he did seem like he was a little punk, Bennett wasn’t going to treat him like he was invisible. He knew what that was like.
When his mother had died that was what everyone did. They talked over his head like he was stupid, like he couldn’t possibly understand what was happening. Addressing all manner of sympathy to his father, to his older brothers, and treating Bennett like he had no idea what was happening in his own life. “Fifteen,” the kid said.
“There isn’t a foster family that has been able to cope with him. And he’s extremely lucky that the owner of the last store he robbed didn’t press charges.”
“It wasn’t robbery,” Dallas said. “You make it sound like I had a gun.”
“That’s armed robbery,” Bennett supplied.
“Well,” Dallas continued. “It wasn’t as badass as that. It was shoplifting. Shoplifting would be a pretty pussy thing to go to jail for.”
“But it is something you could have gone to jail for,” the social worker said, clearly well versed in Dallas’s brand of attitude, and pretty damned fed up with it too.
Which was fair enough, he supposed.
“What happened to your mom?” Bennett asked.
“I don’t know.” Dallas shrugged. “She used to come around sometimes, but I haven’t seen her in a few years.”
“His mother lost custody a few years ago,” Grace explained.
Bennett rounded on her. “If this is my kid then why didn’t anyone contact me then?”
“Because we didn’t know,” she said. “There is no father listed on Dallas’s birth certificate. We didn’t know where the last name Dodge came from.”
“How did you find it now?”
“It was in something of my mother’s,” Dallas said. “Something that I kept.”
“He showed it to me when I told him about the group home,” the social worker said.
Bennett just sat there, shock making him numb. And it was probably a damn good thing.
But on some level, this angry, feral-looking kid wanted to be with him. Or at least, he wanted to be with him more than he wanted to be in a group home. But...it was clear he didn’t want to be here that much. And... Bennett couldn’t close the gap that he felt. With the facts in his brain, the words that had been planted there and the feelings in his heart.
This was his son. In all likelihood it was.
Not only did he look quite a bit like a combination of the Dodge brothers, the timing matched up. For Marnie’s pregnancy. The one that she had said she lost.
That had been a lie. Clearly.
“You didn’t know you had a son,” Grace said.
“No,” Bennett responded. “I didn’t know. Do you honestly think that if I knew there was a kid out there that was mine, that had gotten taken from his mother and put in foster care... Do you honestly think I would’ve left him there?”
“I’ve seen everything,” she said, her eyes exceedingly weary. “There is nothing in the whole world that would surprise me at this point. Nothing at all. Actually, what surprises me most of all is finding you here in a house with a career and a semblance of a normal life. Unless you have drug paraphernalia hidden underneath that very nice-looking sectional in the living room, it seems like you might actually be the best thing that could have happened to Dallas.”
“He’s sitting right there,” Bennett said. “Maybe we should talk right to him, instead of just about him.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother me,” Dallas said, smart-ass grin tipping his lips up. “What’s the point, anyway? You don’t want me to stay here. I didn’t have any idea my dad was living in such a fucking fancy place.”
“It’s not that fancy.” The word dad was echoing in Bennett’s head, and it was making him feel a little bit dizzy.
“Fancier than where I’ve been, believe me.”
“You’ve been with some nice families,” Grace said.
“Yeah,” Dallas snorted. “Too nice for me.”
“So let me get this straight,” Bennett said, resolutely keeping his focus on Dallas, almost unable to keep his eyes off him. This kid that looked like a mirror image of him nearly sixteen years ago. This kid who was a year younger than Bennett had been when he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant and had thought he had to face up to becoming a father.
It hadn’t happened. Then.
But it had all come home to roost in a really strange way.
“You’ve been in trouble with the law.”
“Just a little.” Dallas smirked.
“Yes,” Grace confirmed.
“What else? Why won’t they keep you in the houses?”
“I run away. I cuss a lot. I was with a church family a few months ago and I taught one of the little kids the F word.”
“That was a dick move,” Bennett pointed out.
Dallas grinned. “Yeah.”
“What else?”
Dallas shrugged. “Nothing really. I mean, they want to control me, or turn me into what they think a good kid is, so that