Accidental Father. Lauren Nichols
Why did she feel she’d let him down? Was it reflected guilt? Did she subconsciously feel that withholding the truth about Kylie from him entitled Jake to something else?
Sarah put Kylie into her car seat and climbed behind the wheel. The man scrambled her mind and made every nerve in her body vibrate. If she slept tonight, it would be a miracle.
Tossing and turning, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed, Jake cursed a blue streak and tried to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. He couldn’t believe he was paying someone to stay here. A bedroll on concrete would’ve been more humane. Every few seconds, the Twirling Spur’s neon cowboy boot flashed under the too-short drapes, striping the carpet with fluorescent orange, and adding to his misery.
Vaulting from the bed, he snatched the alarm clock from the nightstand. Three-forty? Could that be right? He plunked it back down and pulled his hands over his whiskery face. Between the bed, the boot and fantasies about Sarah Harper, he didn’t have a prayer of getting any more sleep tonight. Not a prayer.
But, he thought hopefully after a moment, there was a foldaway cot in his office, and if Deputy Joe Talbot wasn’t in it, he might be able to sleep for an hour or two before his shift started at seven. If not…well, he could review applications for a deputy to replace Maggie. She’d phoned him earlier in the evening to tell him about her pregnancy.
Orange light flashed across his bare feet.
And flashed.
And flashed.
And flashed.
Jake clenched his teeth and headed for the shower, masochistically picturing the comfortable beds Sarah had to have in her pink house.
By the time he’d swung his Mountaineer into his parking space, doused his headlights and hailed Joe Talbot, who was just pulling away from the office, Jake’s mood hadn’t improved much. Probably because he’d had to drive past Sarah’s home with its welcoming glow and pretty candle-lights in the windows.
His burly blond deputy called to him through the Jeep’s open window. “Something going on?”
“No,” Jake returned with a rueful smile. “Just can’t sleep.”
“Still no rooms in the paper?”
“A few houses for sale, but I’m not ready for that yet.”
“Well, the cot’s free,” Joe called with a sympathetic grin, and eased off the brake. “I’m just making rounds. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“See you then.” With a wave to Joe, Jake got out, unlocked the door and let himself inside. He wasn’t on the cot long when a ridiculous thought that wouldn’t go away had him calling himself an idiot and rolling to his feet again.
Jake tore through the files behind the desk out front, found nothing, then berating himself even more, went to the back room where old files were stored. He’d never done anything like this before. It was stupid, and sappy and sophomoric. But he couldn’t stop himself.
A few minutes later, he was staring hard at the police photo in his hand. What in hell had Sarah ever seen in this guy?
The cocky grin and pretty-boy features that stared back at him reminded Jake of the young studs the girls from his old high school used to go nuts over. Lots of rock-band hair and more brass than the New York Philharmonic.
He scanned the accompanying description. Vincent Charles Harper had been a white male, five foot eleven, with sandy brown hair, no distinguishing marks and…
And information he hadn’t even been looking for jumped out at him. Brown eyes.
Jake’s heart broke into a full gallop. Slowly, he slid the file back into the cabinet.
He remembered enough about a genetics class he’d taken in college to know that two brown-eyed parents could still have a blue-eyed child. But at the same time, Kylie had his coloring and had been born nine months after he’d been with Sarah. That was just too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence.
Kylie Harper was his daughter.
The wind kicked him full in the face that evening as Jake took Blackjack on a flat-out run across the long, pale pasture, inhaling the energy around him and letting the stallion’s hoofbeats drum out the nagging thoughts in his head. Chokecherries, pines and golden aspens blurred in his side vision. The cloudless blue sky above all but disappeared. They didn’t slow down until they’d gone nearly as far as wooden posts and barbed wire would permit. Then Jake reined the horse in and eased him into a blowing, cooling-down walk.
He couldn’t yet see the big white main house where Jess and Casey Dalton lived with their little daughter. But corrals and outbuildings lay ahead, and to his far right, a row of pines marked the long access road to the ranch.
Jake frowned as he pointed Blackjack toward it and the barn beyond, realizing that the ride had given him only a temporary respite from his tension. He was as churned up now as he’d been this morning when he’d read Vince Harper’s description.
He was almost to the road when two riders cut through the trees on horseback.
With a jolt, Jake recognized Sarah and Maggie Dalton, both astride chestnut mounts with white blazes.
“Jake! Hi!” Maggie called as they rode toward him. Both women were dressed in jeans and boots, but while Maggie wore a navy blue sweatshirt, Sarah wore a faded denim jacket over her white blouse. Both collars were up and her top two buttons were undone, creating a deep V from her long, smooth neck to the top of her chest. She rode well.
“Hello,” Sarah said with a cautious smile.
Jake smiled back and returned the greeting, thinking that she was probably wondering if he was still irritated because she’d refused his invitation to have coffee. Well, yes, he was. He was also irritated because he was sleeping on a medieval rack, acting like a jealous kid because of her, and being kept in the dark about the daughter he knew was his.
But this was another opportunity to smooth the friction between them and gain her trust, and he wasn’t going to get impatient this time and blow it.
“Starting your ride or finishing?” Maggie asked.
“Finishing. I was just heading back.” He relaxed in the saddle, looping his reins around the saddle horn. Underneath, his blood pumped hard. “Nice day.”
“And if you believe the forecasters,” Maggie said, “tomorrow could be even better. I was supposed to ride with Ross, but he apparently got busy so I invited Sarah to join me.” She laughed. “She brought me an instruction sheet. I’m going to attempt to make a quilt.”
“You’ll do fine,” Jake said, then remembered their phone conversation last night. “Should you be riding?”
“According to Doc, I can do anything I normally did.” She shrugged. “I’ve always ridden. Now that I know about the baby, I’ll take it a lot easier, though.”
“That’s good.” A flock of noisy blackbirds sailed past them and landed some distance away in a field of winter oats. Jake gave them a cursory glance before continuing. “How would you feel about staying on for a while?” he asked. “Not as a deputy, but as the office manager. I never did get around to considering anyone for the position. Joe’s agreed to work full-time, and I’ll hire a part-timer to take his place.”
Maggie broke into a beaming smile. “I’d love it. Until the baby comes, there really isn’t much to keep me occupied.” She turned to include Sarah in the conversation. “Except quilting, if I can get the hang of it.”
“You will,” Sarah assured her.
“Wait, now,” Jake said. “Before you accept, see what Ross thinks.”
“Ross thinks I should be in a wheelchair with nurses attending me twenty-four hours a day. In fact, he doesn’t even want me riding. Which could