Rancher Daddy. Lois Richer
That’s what comes of keeping secrets.
“You’re a good sport, Holly. I like that about you. Though I can’t say I have such high regard for the man you chose to marry.” Luc’s voice tightened. “Ron Simard was a first-class jerk to walk away from you like that.”
“He had his reasons.” If Luc knew what she’d kept hidden from her fiancé until a few days before her wedding, Holly was pretty sure he’d have agreed wholeheartedly with Ron’s decision to turn tail and run.
Luc had lost his family and frequently spoke of his desire for an heir. How could he ever understand her decision to give away the infant she’d birthed while she was in training?
“So your new sewing room doesn’t have anything to do with Ron?” he pressed, nudging her from the past with its guilty secrets.
“Not at all! Sewing is my hobby, Luc, a way to be creative and a total change from my work,” she explained. “It lets me achieve some of my dreams. Aside from the cost of the renovation, it shouldn’t impact the ranch budget too much. Okay?” She stared at him, one eyebrow arched.
“If you’re asking my permission, I certainly think it’s okay if you make a sewing room out of your extra bedroom,” he said, pushing away his empty plate.
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” she shot back, irritated that she’d felt compelled to explain but even more annoyed that she’d let him get to her. He knew it, too, judging by the smile flickering at the corner of his lips.
“If that’s what you want. I might even offer to help you do the renovation.”
“Really?” She frowned. “I thought you’d be too busy with ranch stuff. You keep asking if I’ve done it yet, but you’ve never actually offered to help me clean out Dad’s trunk.”
“That’s different.” Luc had the grace to look embarrassed. He turned, grabbed a napkin and wiped Henry’s syrup-spattered cheeks. “I don’t want to push in on your personal affairs,” he muttered.
“Luc, you already know everything there is to know about Cool Springs Ranch,” Holly pointed out, surprised by this sensitivity.
“There might be something personal in there that you don’t want to share. Did you ever empty it?” He did look at her then.
“Not yet.” Holly couldn’t shake the feeling that Luc was hiding something. “I’ll get to the trunk. Eventually.”
“Good. Anyway, renovating is different than going through personal stuff. Sort of.” He nodded then shook his head. “Or maybe not.”
“Definitive answer,” she teased as she studied him, confused by his response. Luc was never uncertain. “You’ll help me with the renovation and I suppose you’ll expect me to help you with something in return. What?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He tilted his head just the tiniest bit to the left where Henry sat silently watching them. Holly frowned, prepared to push for an answer but Luc shook his head.
She shrugged. Let him have his secret. Goodness knew she had her own and she hated it when anyone tried to push her into saying something she didn’t want to.
“Can we get my family now?” Henry asked.
“It won’t be that simple, Henry,” Holly warned. “It’s a long process to find a family. Besides, we’ve got another fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to meet the mayor.” His sad expression touched her. He must be very lonely. With a spurt of inspiration she asked, “Where did you live before, Henry?”
“In Calgary. In a shelter. My brother took care of me.” For the first time the boy’s composure fractured. A big tear plopped onto his cheek. “Finn can’t take care of me anymore because he’s in prison. He told me he didn’t do it but I think he did steal the money from the store and it’s my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” Luc asked, touching the boy’s shoulder gently.
“My teacher said I need new glasses. But I shouldn’t have told Finn because he didn’t have any money to buy them.” Henry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I asked him anyway.”
“You couldn’t know what Finn would do,” Holly said, hugging Henry close for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”
When Luc didn’t add his voice to the comment, Holly glanced up and found him staring at her and Henry, his brown eyes almost black with intensity.
“What?” she murmured, discomfited by his look.
“I just had an idea.” A slow grin moved across Luc’s face, accenting the handsome ruggedness. “Henry, here’s some money. Could you go pay the bill?”
Delighted by this sign of trust, Henry scooted out of the booth and across the café.
“Why did you do that?” Holly liked that Luc was an open book. He didn’t hide his thoughts or pretend to be anything but what he was—a cowboy. He was honest and straightforward and she knew she could count on him. So when he leaned toward her, Holly smiled, expecting a joke.
“In return for helping you with your renovations, I would like your help,” Luc said.
“With what?” Surprised when he beckoned to her to move closer, Holly leaned toward him.
“With adopting Henry.”
* * *
Luc winced when Holly’s eyes widened then flickered with disbelief. What was so surprising about him wanting to adopt Henry? She studied him until Henry came back then turned her focus on the boy, watching as he first handed Luc the change and then began scribbling on his placemat with the pen he’d given him earlier.
“Henry,” she said softly. “Mrs. Brewster has some toys over there, in the box under the window. Would you like to play with them for a few minutes until it’s time to leave?”
“Okay.” Henry shifted out of the booth, paused to study them through his big round glasses. “You and Luc should make a family.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Holly avoided Luc’s glance until Henry walked over to the toy box. “Where did he get that idea from?” Her beautiful blue eyes now had silver sparks in them which shot his way. “Never mind. Were you kidding about adopting him?”
“Why would I?” Irritated that Holly would think he’d joke about such a serious subject, Luc clenched his hands on the leather bench. Why shouldn’t he be a father to this needy boy?
Holly’s glossy brunette curls, caught up in the ponytail she always wore to work, shone red-gold glints in a flash of sunlight coming through the window. She always looked lovely to him, but with the pink flush of annoyance now staining her cheeks, she was stunning. And she distracted him.
“You can’t adopt Henry.” Her voice had the sharpest tone he’d ever heard.
“Because?” Luc leaned back in his seat and waited, formulating arguments in his mind, ready to shoot hers down while wondering what was wrong with the usually happy Holly.
“You make it sound like it’s a done deal, just because you’ve decided. Adoption’s not that easy.” Holly fiddled with her teacup.
“How do you know?” Funny how she didn’t look at him now. Instead, she hid her gaze by staring at the uneaten food on her plate. Luc’s radar was alerted, but he waited for her to speak.
“I’ve seen and heard stuff at Family Ties. There are procedures to go through. Isn’t it time to leave?” Holly sounded almost desperate.
“We’ve still got several minutes,” he said, wondering why she hadn’t looked at her watch. It hung from a gold pin near her shoulder. Luc knew she did that because she’d once told him she disliked wearing anything on her wrist. He knew a lot about Holly. “What kind of procedures do I need to go through,