Cowboy Daddy. Carolyne Aarsen
of her father’s foundation and it became her armor now.
Her gaze ticked over Kip and moved to the man sitting on the other side of the desk. He certainly didn’t look like any lawyer she had ever met with his open-necked twill shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots. She was definitely not in Toronto anymore. “My name is Nicole Williams, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“Ron Benton.” He stood, gave her a slow-release grin and shook her hand. At least he looked friendly, which was more than she could saw for Kip Cosgrove with his deep scowl.
Ron sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “I understand we have a problem that we need to resolve.”
Nicole shrugged as she set her briefcase on the floor beside her chair. “No problem as far as I can see. I have a will from Tricia Williams giving her parents, Sam and Norah Williams, full custody of the boys, Justin and Tristan Williams. Norah Williams has passed away, but Sam is very much alive.” Nicole took out a copy of the will and placed it on the wooden desk in front of Ron. “You can keep that for your records.”
Ron glanced over the papers. “This will hasn’t been filed with any legal firm, or put together with the help of a lawyer?”
Nicole shook her head. “No, but it is witnessed and dated.”
“By whom?” Ron kept his eyes on the papers, flipping through them as he frowned.
“I don’t know the woman. Apparently it was someone that Tricia lived with.”
Ron’s slow nod combined with his laissez-faire attitude grated on Nicole, but she kept her temper in check. She had to stay in control.
Then Ron sat back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head. “We could easily contest the legality of this will.”
Now it was Nicole’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
“How do we know this is Tricia William’s signature? And who was this friend? Anyone could have put this together.”
Kip leaned forward and she couldn’t help glancing his way, catching a gleam in his eye.
“So you’re saying this isn’t as cut-and-dried as some people think?” Kip asked.
Hard not to miss the pleasure in his voice. Nicole fought back her concern. She had too much riding on this situation. Sam was expecting her to bring these boys back. It was what she had to do.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“So that makes things a bit easier,” Kip said with an obvious note of relief in his voice.
“We have our own lawyer working on this case,” Nicole added, just in case Kip thought she was simply rolling over. “We have copies of Tricia’s handwriting and photographs of the boys.”
“Birth certificates?” Ron asked, his chair creaking as he leaned forward, glancing over the will again.
Nicole had to say no. “Again, that’s something our lawyer, James Feschuk is working on.” Dropping James’s name, however, got no reaction.
“So things are still in limbo?” Kip asked. He tapped a booted foot on the carpet, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Nicole wasn’t surprised.
He looked as if he was far more at home on the back of a horse than sitting in an office.
Which made her wonder why he wouldn’t let the boys on the horses. He seemed so unreasonably angry with her when she took them to the horse corrals.
And why did she care? The boys were leaving this life as soon as possible.
Ron tapped his fingers on the desk, shaking his head as if to negate everything Nicole had said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think anything can happen until we get all our questions answered.”
“Great.” Kip got to his feet. “Then we’ll wait.”
“Not so fast, Kip,” Ron continued. “The other reality is we can’t completely negate Ms. Williams’s claim on these boys. She does have some rights for now.”
Nicole’s frustration eased off. She had been ready to do battle with this small-town lawyer.
Kip had already grabbed his denim jacket but clutched it now, his grey eyes staying on Ron, ignoring Nicole. “What rights?”
“Visitation, for one,” Ron said.
Kip blew out a sigh and shoved his hands through his hair as he glared at his own lawyer. “How will that work?”
Time to take control. “I would like to visit the boys every day,” Nicole said.
Kip finally turned his attention to her. “Every day? For how long?”
“I think that’s something we can settle here and now,” Nicole said. “I was thinking I could come and pick up the boys and take them for a visit either morning or afternoon. Whichever is convenient.”
Kip made a show of looking at his watch, as if he was the only one in this room with a schedule to keep. Then he sat down and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, I’m thinking something else. I’m thinking you can see the boys every day, but the visits have to happen on the ranch and under my supervision.”
Nicole frowned at that. “Why?”
Kip held her gaze, his frown and piercing gaze giving him a slightly menacing air. “I only have your word that you are who you are, and until Ron is satisfied, I’m not letting Justin and Tristan out of my sight.”
His antagonism was like a wave and for the briefest moment, fear flashed through Nicole. He reminded her of a wolf, defending its pups.
Then she pushed her fear down.
“And how would these visits be apportioned?”
“I’m guessing you mean how much time and when?”
“Precisely.”
Kip raised an eyebrow and Nicole knew she was putting on her “office” voice. She couldn’t help it. She felt as if she needed the defense.
“You come from 2:30 until 5:00 every afternoon. That’s what works best for me.”
She bit back her anger. Two and a half hours? Was that what he considered a visit?
“Take it or leave it,” he added.
She didn’t have much choice. Right now she may hold a legal will, but until it was proven legitimate, he had the right of possession—if that was the correct way to term guardianship of the boys.
“Those terms are…fine with me,” she said, trying to sound reasonable. She wasn’t fighting him over this. Not yet. In the end, she knew she would be proven right, but in the meantime the boys were in his care and on his ranch and she could do nothing about that.
“So we should draw something up,” Ron said, pulling out a pen. “Just in case there are any repercussions.”
Fifteen minutes later, papers were printed up and signed and everyone given a copy.
Kip folded his over and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans. She put hers in her briefcase.
“There is one more thing,” Nicole said quietly. “My father insists that we do a DNA test.”
“What?” The word fairly exploded out of Kip’s mouth. “What do you think this is? CSI Alberta?”
“It’s not that complex. There is a test that can be ordered, and I’ve checked into the locations of the clinics where they can be brought. We would require your mother to take a test and my father, given that the parents of the boys are dead.”
“Is this legal?” Kip asked his lawyer.
Ron leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his chin. “Might not be a bad idea. It could bolster your