Kayla's Cowboy

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“Oh? I bet a few days ago you would have sworn Morgan was an only child.”

She had him there, as the dull red on his neck could testify. To think she’d once felt lucky because he’d asked her out. Jackson McGregor might have been the biggest heartthrob of the high school, but that didn’t excuse her teenage self from being an idiot. After all, she’d seen her mother in action for years and should have known better.

As for the adult Jackson?

Kayla didn’t particularly like him. He was more attractive than ever but still seemed to be the same stubborn jackass who’d gotten her pregnant and left her high and dry. It wasn’t that she’d expected a romantic marriage proposal, but to be accused of sleeping with half the boys in school?

“All right,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I didn’t have sex with most of the other girls.”

“Most of them?” Kayla let out a mock groan. “Damn, that means Marcy and I were among the few who were foolish enough to fall for your line.”

A muscle twitched along the edge of Jackson’s jaw.

“What’s the matter?” she taunted. “You can dish it out, but not take it?”

“Look, can we just talk about my son? To be frank, I called your grandparents because I thought you might take Alex away without telling him about me.”

Kayla narrowed her eyes. A hot temper was one of her weak points, and right now she wasn’t motivated to keep it in check. “I told you that I’d explained everything to Alex. You thought I was lying?”

“Not exactly, but I couldn’t be sure you were telling the truth, either. Marcy proved how many ways a lie can be told. Since then, I’ve encountered more than my share of women who do the same thing and—”

He cut off his words, possibly because he’d realized how sexist he sounded. Obviously it wasn’t people in general he distrusted, it was the opposite sex.

“Let me guess,” she said. “I’m a woman, so my integrity is automatically in question.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Growing up with a misogynist must be delightful for your daughter.”

Jackson glared. “I don’t hate women.”

“No, as long as they stay in their place, follow special rules and have a man vouch for them.” She folded her hands and assumed a meek expression. “Please, Mr. McGregor, I’ll have my grandfather testify that I told my son the truth.”

“Oh, God,” Jackson muttered.

“I’ve missed Schuyler,” Kayla continued, ignoring him, “but now I realize how lucky I am to be raising my children in the twenty-first century. I’d recommend restraining your macho attitudes if Alex ever agrees to see you. His best friend is a girl and he firmly believes she’ll be president someday—of the United States, not the ladies’ guild.”

“Fine, I’ll vote for her. In the meantime, what upset Alex about a simple conversation?”

Kayla fought a new surge of temper. The memory of her son’s worried eyes was hard to forget. As soon as she’d returned to the house he’d asked if they could go back to Seattle immediately. The reason? Because he didn’t want to meet the guy who’d “ticked off Grandma on the phone.” And that was all he would say.

So she’d asked Grams about the call. Elizabeth had muttered something about Jackson wanting to be sure Kayla hadn’t run off with Alex to Washington and how he’d talked about his rights as a dad, so she’d put him in his place.

It had been a revelation. Apparently Elizabeth Garrison shared her granddaughter’s quick temper, at least when it came to defending her family.

Just then a food server came by with menus and a flirtatious smile for Jackson.

“Just decaf coffee,” Kayla said.

“Plain cherry pie and coffee,” Jackson ordered. “Thanks.”

Neither of them said anything until their cups were filled and the pie delivered. As the server walked away, Jackson shoved his plate to one side and leaned forward. “Kayla, what’s going on with Alex?”

She gazed at him for a long minute. Her grandmother and son had probably overreacted, but Jackson had only phoned in the first place because he’d assumed the worst of her.

“Alex asked if we could go to Seattle today or tomorrow,” she explained reluctantly. “I talked him into staying, but it wasn’t easy.”

* * *

A LEAD WEIGHT settled in Jackson’s stomach. It was a damned poor introduction to his son, provided Kayla was accurately relaying Alex’s reaction.

“Why is he worried about meeting me?”

Kayla sighed and pushed her rich auburn hair away from her face. The motion drew attention to the delicate curve of her cheek and brilliant blue of her eyes and he wondered if it was a deliberately provocative gesture, intended to distract him.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I know he’s disconcerted because you aren’t what he’d imagined his birth father would be like.”

“What sort of man did he think I’d be?”

She shrugged and Jackson averted his gaze from the movement of her breasts against the emerald-green T-shirt she wore.

“Somewhere between Seattle and Schuyler Alex got the notion that his biological father was an artist or something similar. It’s quite an adjustment to go from envisioning you as an artist to discovering you’re a big tough cowboy his grandmother has to fight off.”

“That isn’t what happened,” Jackson growled, unable to think why Elizabeth Garrison had implied such a thing. Well, she had gotten irate, so maybe it was understandable.

“I’m just saying how it sounded to a kid hearing one side of the conversation. Alex has an active imagination, and there’s no telling what else he might be thinking.”

Massaging the tense muscles at the back his neck, Jackson decided to try a new approach. “I apologize, but try to understand where I’m coming from. Less than twenty-four hours ago I found out I have a son. Then I had to explain it to my daughter and—”

“Frankly, any sympathy I might have had vanished when I had to deal with a freaked-out teenager,” Kayla interrupted.

He had no one but himself to blame. It had been stupid to imply to Elizabeth Garrison that Kayla might have failed to explain the situation to Alex. As for rushing her son back to Seattle? Kayla could have done that before talking to him in the first place.

“Okay,” he said. “What can I do to make Alex more comfortable?”

“I’ll try to find out, for his sake, not yours. At least he’s still asking questions, such as what sort of person you are, what you like and dislike, if you get mad easily. That sort of thing.”

“I don’t...uh, usually don’t get mad easily,” Jackson said. It was mostly true; it had taken months of Morgan’s resentful rebellion to turn him into a crazy person with a hair-trigger fuse.

“I’m sure that’s debatable,” Kayla observed wryly. “But tell me about your hobbies, or something that Alex can relate to.”

“I raise horses.”

She hiked an eyebrow. “Not helpful. Alex has a cat and grew up in the city, so horses aren’t something he normally encounters. Sandy—that’s his best friend—went on a ranch vacation last year and fell in love with riding, but Alex hasn’t shown any interest. Anything else?”

Jackson tried to think. How did he connect with a kid who attended science fiction conventions? Maybe the biggest thing he shared with Alex was being nonplussed that they had so little in common.

“I enjoy baseball,” he said finally.

“That’s good. What team?”

“I’m partial to the Cubs. Oh, and I’m not crazy about the designated-hitter rule in the American League.”

“Alex will look forward to trying to convert you.”

“When do I get a chance to be converted?” Jackson asked.

She made an exasperated sound. “A shred of patience would be helpful. I need to give Alex more than baseball to make him comfortable. Have you seen any of the Star Trek movies?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Star Trek. Great film.”

Kayla gave him a stern look. “Don’t say something just because you think that’s what we want to hear. Alex can spot a phony even better than I can.”

“Fine, I didn’t pay that much attention when Morgan watched the last Star Trek flick,” Jackson admitted. “But I’ll put it on again if it will help.”

Rolling her eyes, Kayla nodded. “What about art? Any likes or dislikes?”

“Some. M. C. Escher is interesting. But have you raised Alex to only get along with people who are exactly the same as him, or am I the only one who has to fit into a box?”

“No, but it’s one thing to make a friend who doesn’t enjoy the same things, another to meet a complete stranger who’s actually your birth father. He doesn’t know what you expect or think and he’s nervous.”

A second food server approached their table. “Are you sure you don’t want dinner, Jackson? The chili is real good today. I’ll get Walt to slice a few of those fresh jalapeño peppers you like.”

Jackson smiled tightly; normally he appreciated the attentive service at Ryan’s, but not tonight. “Thanks, Cora, we’re fine.”

Kayla cocked her head as Cora retreated to the front of the restaurant. “She seems familiar. Was she in high school when we were there?”

“She was. And no, I haven’t dated her.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking, but at least I can leave Cora off the family reunion invitation list.”

Finishing his coffee, Jackson reminded himself that he only had himself to thank for the current mess in his life.

* * *

MORGAN CLICKED THE Internet Explorer icon and watched it come up on the computer screen. Flora had enabled her access at exactly nine o’clock, the hour ending the no-internet part of being grounded.

Her dad had gone out, saying he had an appointment at Ryan’s Roadhouse. It had to be a date. He never brought anyone home that he’d hooked up with, and he never spent the entire night away, but she knew the score. She’d called to ask about going the lake again, just to annoy him, then hung up when he started repeating that crap about different rules. It wasn’t as if she’d expected a different answer.

Morgan logged on to Facebook to see if her new half brother had an account. She searched for an Alex Anderson in Seattle, Washington, and scrolled through the list until she saw a face that was eerily familiar.

Morgan gulped.

Cripes, he looked an awful lot like her dad. She clicked on his profile and saw the stuff he’d entered about his interests. Her dad had said he was a science fiction and baseball fan, but Alex had also listed art and computers.

For a second she kept the curser away from the friend request button. It would be a bummer if Alex didn’t want to be her friend, and she was already sick inside from not being wanted, but...no. She wasn’t going to be a stinking coward.

Morgan lifted her chin and punched the request button. Then she went on to chat with her buddies, though the really cool ones had already left for the lake and didn’t seem to be logging on. After a while she saw a post from Alex pop up on the screen.

Hmm. He’d confirmed her request. Now she wondered if he’d recognized her name or merely always accepted friend requests. Did Alex know who she was? Curious what he thought about being in Schuyler and finding out about his birth dad, she clicked on his page and read through his recent posts.

Nothing. He’d written about being in Montana and meeting his great-grandparents, saying they weren’t that ancient and were really awesome. But not one word about his birth father, or a new sister.

Then a message popped up—it was from Alex. She noticed he didn’t write in shorthand texting language, so she didn’t, either.

Hi. Are you who I think you are? Alex wrote.

Yeah, unless you think I’m Xena the Warrior Princess.

Are you a Xena fan? he asked.

Morgan hesitated for a moment before entering, Used to be.

Do you like Star Trek?

Yeah, except maybe the Enterprise series. Morgan had never gotten into Enterprise, though she liked Scott Bakula, who’d played the captain.

Into Darkness is the best movie ever. Thought I’d die laughing when Spock talked about attitude, Alex wrote back.

Yeah. Which Khan do you think is best?

That’s like comparing apples to dogs.

I guess.

It was an odd conversation and not as fast as talking on the phone, but it gave her more time to think. She hadn’t told anyone at school that she was a Trek fan—the cool kids weren’t into it.

They went back and forth awhile longer about Star Trek, then Alex said he needed to watch a Mariners baseball game with his little sister and great-grandparents.

Since her dad always ordered the cable sports package, Morgan was able to find the Mariners game on her TV. She wasn’t sure what to think about becoming Facebook friends with Alex, but she thought it might be okay, even if he was a geek from Seattle and she was a cowgirl.

Later that night when her dad came home, she came out of her room. “When are we going to meet Alex?” she asked.

“I’m still not sure, Morgan. I’ll let you know.”

* * *

FOR HOURS AFTER she’d gone to bed, Kayla lay awake, trying to sort out her feelings.

She’d come home from Ryan’s Roadhouse to find everyone cheering on the Mariners. But once the game was over, she had reassured her son that Jackson knew the choice to meet was Alex’s decision, not his.

Now it was past midnight and she couldn’t sleep. Granted, she was a chronic insomniac, but usually it wasn’t this bad. Punching her pillow, Kayla rolled over, closed her eyes and tried not to picture anything, but Jackson’s face kept intruding. Once he’d been the cutest guy she’d ever met, and now he was even better looking, his archaic views notwithstanding.

She squirmed, not wanting to find any man handsome. Some of her friends kept saying she didn’t have to make a career out of being a divorcée. That wasn’t what she was doing, or at least she hoped not. They couldn’t understand, and the blind dates they set her up on were lame, to use her kids’ language for it. Maybe she just had bad luck with men, or maybe she couldn’t stop making lousy choices about them.