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Then she was gone.
Just like she’d been gone the morning after their night of passion.
He’d awakened as she’d dressed, but he’d known they really hadn’t had anything to say. He was going out on the circuit again. She would be staying in Fawn Grove. He didn’t know when he’d be back. So he’d let her leave without a word.
And that had been that.
But the receptionist’s question stuck with him.
The Mommy Club? What did Marissa have to do with that? Every once in a while he checked in on Fawn Grove’s Chamber of Commerce’s Facebook page, just to see what events were going on, what was happening in the town he’d grown up in. He vaguely remembered seeing postings about The Mommy Club.
As soon as he got back to the ranch, he’d have to check it out.
* * *
As Ty opened the newly painted white wooden screen door and stepped into the Cozy C’s renovated kitchen, he was barely mindful of the smell of new paint and coffee. Yet he couldn’t miss the sight of his uncle Eli sitting at the oak pedestal table nursing a mug of a dark brew.
“You’re leaning on that cane pretty heavy. Tough workout?” his uncle asked.
If it were up to Ty, the cane would be tossed into the recycle bin. He rarely used it now, though his physical therapist wanted him to. But after today’s exercises, he needed to ice the muscles around his knee before getting along with his day.
“No tougher than any other,” he assured his uncle, leaving the cane by the door and hanging his Stetson on the hat hook. There were four of them there now, for any of the dude ranch’s guests who came to visit the main house’s kitchen.
“Still smells like paint in here,” his uncle grumbled.
“You wanted to keep the wooden door. It needed a facelift.”
“And that stainless-steel stove and refrigerator make me want to close my eyes when I come in here in the morning. It’s so damn bright.”
That was an exaggeration if Ty ever heard one, but he could tell his uncle was in a complaining mood.
“You like the new touch faucet, though, don’t you?”
His uncle glanced at it and scowled. “I liked that old white porcelain sink just fine. And in my day, a spigot for hot and a spigot for cold was all I needed. Now we’ve got that fancy sprayer and a filtered water tap.” Eli shook his head.
“Any complaints about the new guest cabins?” Ty asked, amused by his uncle’s rant.
“If somebody wants to stay here, they should be happy with the bunkhouse,” Eli muttered.
“You can’t expect a family to stay in a bunkhouse, even if we did give it an overhaul and a more refined look. Single guys who come for the ranch experience can bunk with the hands there. But what if we get a couple who wants to explore the area on horseback for their honeymoon?”
“So you want to provide a love nest?” Eli sounded aghast at that thought.
“I want to provide a cozy cabin where they’ll be happy so they spread the word to their friends and we get even more guests. Instead of all these changes, would you have rather sold the Cozy C?”
They’d had the conversation many times since Eli had confessed the state of the ranch while Ty was still in Houston. Ty supposed his uncle hadn’t wanted him to return and be shocked by what he found. And Ty would have been. When he returned two months ago, the place had been sorely run-down. The tax collector had been on Eli’s doorstep for the past year. With his bull riding winnings tucked into a bank account, Ty had been able to think, plan and move fast—from his rehab facility in Houston. He and his uncle had spent long sleepless nights over this decision before renovations started, but there really had been no other choice but to turn the Cozy C into an income-generating ranch.
Now Eli took a long swig of coffee, then set down his mug with a thump. “I still don’t like the idea of using all your winnings for this. You could have had a sweet retirement fund.”
“That’s a long way off.”
At twenty-nine, Ty had plenty of years to worry about retirement. If they could make a success of the Cozy C, he and his uncle would both be set.
“This place is going to be great, Unc. You’ll see.”
Eli pushed his chair back, stood, and went to the new sink. “All I see is you working day and night when you should still be recuperating.”
“I’m done recuperating. Haven’t you noticed?”
Eli turned and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know if you’ve ever started.”
Ty wasn’t even going to ask what that meant, though his uncle was probably referring to his childhood, not just the bull riding accident. Ty had spent the first few years of his life in Texas. Vague memories that had to do with dust and heat and hills sometimes shadowed his dreams. His dad had ridden the circuit and his mom, well, she’d gotten tired of the whole thing—the dust, the heat, as well as being alone and taking care of a child all by herself. One weekend, when his dad had come home between rodeos, she’d announced she was leaving. Not only leaving, but she was leaving Ty with his dad.
His father hadn’t had a clue how to take care of a four-year-old, so he’d called his brother Eli. In no time, the two had moved to Fawn Grove, California, and the Cozy C. Once they had, his dad had gone on the circuit again. He’d been killed by an ornery bull a few years later. Maybe Ty had gone into bull riding to prove he wouldn’t have the same fate.
No, not the same. A different one.
Needing to change the topic of conversation, Ty went to the coffeepot and filled his own mug. Standing there as casually as he could, he said offhandedly, “I ran into Marissa Lopez in town.”
“That gal who turned your head when you were in high school?”
“She didn’t turn my head. She was two years younger and—”
Eli cut in and waved his hand. “Never no mind. Just stay away from her. She had a baby with no dad in sight. You don’t want to get tangled up in that kind of complication.”
She’d had a baby? That’s why she was involved in The Mommy Club.
“How old’s her baby?” Ty asked.
“A year, maybe a couple of months more. It’s not like I keep track of everybody in town.”
A year? Fourteen months? His heart pounded in his ears.
His uncle acted as if he didn’t keep track, but Eli often drove into the diner for breakfast, and he and his cohorts gossiped as much as any women’s group. They knew the comings and goings. They knew the old-time residents. They knew who was new. They just knew.
Making quick calculations in his head, Ty didn’t like what he came up with. If her baby was a couple of months over a year old, and it took nine months to have a baby...
That would put the night of conception right about when he and Marissa had hooked up after the wedding.
He hoped he was totally mistaken. The thing was, he had to find out...and soon.
* * *
Ty didn’t like the looks of the apartment building at all. It was shabby, like the landlord could care less about it. Its pale yellow stucco had seen too much sun. The pavement was cracked under Ty’s boots as he walked around the back of the building to the apartments on that side. Checking the address on his phone again, he saw that Marissa’s apartment was the middle one, on the second floor. He mounted the stairs and the finish of the railing came off like powder on his hand. Sure, maybe he’d stay in a place like this on a long rodeo stint, but it was no place for a mother and a child. He imagined Marissa was living here because she could afford the rent. Still...
Just where did Marissa work? Did she make enough money to support her and her baby? Was there a guy in the picture now?
He remembered again the wedding they’d attended in nearby Sacramento. They’d been on opposite sides of the aisle in the church, he on the groom’s side and she on the bride’s. But he’d ended up behind her in the receiving line and they’d taken seats at the same table at the dinner. They’d talked some, laughed at high school escapades they’d remembered. They’d shared the bride and groom’s happiness as the couple had exchanged pieces of cake and then danced. That’s when the real night had started for him and Marissa. He’d asked her to dance.
That dance...
It had started the rest of the night.
At the top of the stairs, he stood at her door, which was decorated with a wreath of autumn leaves, nuts and gourds, not knowing exactly the right way to handle this. Maybe there was no right way.
He pressed the doorbell, but when he didn’t hear it ring, he knocked. It was after six. She should be home having dinner, taking care of her baby.
When she opened the door, he saw that she’d changed from the beige slacks and cream shirt into worn jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed JORDAN’S MOMMY.
So she had a son, and his name was Jordan.
She looked horrified when she saw him glancing down at her T-shirt. Her face went pale. But he had to give her credit. After a deep breath, another second and a lifetime later, she produced a smile.
“Hi, Ty. I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. What brings you here?”
She was holding the door three-quarters of the way closed behind her, but he could hear sounds coming from inside the apartment. They sounded like baby squeals.
He motioned behind her. “Can I come in?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s not a good time.”
“When would be a good time?” he asked in a compromising tone.
“I don’t know. I’m fixing supper, and then I have work to do. My to-do list is pretty full this week.”
No matter what she did or said, he was determined to have a talk with her.
“Invite me in, Marissa, for old time’s sake. I won’t stay long.”
With another glance over her shoulder, she gave a huge sigh, opened the door and motioned him in.
He couldn’t read the expression on her face. Was it dread, nervousness, regret? He’d love to know what was going on in her head.
He walked in and saw the baby right away. On the rodeo circuit Ty had talked with kids and horsed around with them. He liked their innocence and naïveté and optimistic outlook on life. They made him laugh. But he’d never been around babies.
This little fellow was seated in a high chair, playing with little round cereal pieces on his tray. Ty barely noticed the yellow-and-white kitchen curtains, the skillet simmering on the stove with what looked like barbecued beef. The smell wafted through the kitchen but it didn’t even make his stomach growl. He couldn’t take his eyes off the little boy.
“My uncle told me you’re unmarried and you have a baby.”
Marissa kept silent.
“How old is he?”
As if Jordan wanted to answer for himself, he pounded his tiny fist on the plastic tray, squealed and gave a lopsided toothy grin to Ty. Ty’s heart turned over in his chest.
“He’s fourteen months old,” Marissa said.
Ty’s gaze swung to hers. He could see she was trying hard to hold it together, to act as if nothing were the matter, acting as if that hadn’t been the most important question in the world.
“We used protection,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Not in the middle of the night,” she reminded him softly.
How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten they’d reached for each other, half-asleep, come together as if they’d been lovers for years and rocked the bed as if lightning was striking all over again?
“He’s mine.”
She only hesitated a moment, and then he saw what he’d sensed about her from the very beginning—from the time they were in high school. She was honest and wouldn’t lie.
“Yes, he’s yours. His name is Jordan.”
As if he was drawn by a very powerful magnet, he crossed to the child and stared down at him, trying to let the implications of it all wash over him. The little boy was pounding on his tray again, gleefully burbling, kicking his legs. He had Ty’s brown hair, a much lighter shade than Marissa’s. But the baby had Marissa’s dark brown eyes, sparkling and shiny with new life and expectant hope.
Suddenly the gravity of what was happening hit Ty in the solar plexus. He swiveled on his boots, faced her and said, “You should have told me.”
She looked dumbstruck for a second.
He held up his hand, knowing they both needed to take a few deep breaths. “I need some air. I’m going for a walk, but I’ll be back. Don’t leave.”
“You can’t order me around, Ty. This is my life, not yours.”
“That baby is our life, Marissa.”
With that, he left her kitchen. With that, he took a few gulps of fresh air. With that, he hurried down the steps of the shabby apartment building.
He had a son. Somehow he had to wrap his mind around the idea that he was a father—and then quickly decide what to do about it.
Chapter Two (#ulink_ecb6534d-d9f1-5543-acd6-fb0eef79b080)
Marissa’s hand shook as she warmed Jordan’s baby food and scooped it into a dish for him. Her own barbecued beef supper would be sitting in that skillet and serve her for the rest of the week. She had no appetite.
Would Ty come back tonight? Or had he just said that to keep her on alert, to keep her off balance? She was already way off balance. What was she going to do?
As she dipped the spoon into Jordan’s food and made noises like an airplane to coax him to eat it, she wondered what Ty Conroy was going to do.
She’d seen the thunder in his eyes when she’d confirmed the fact that Jordan was his. That thunder was anger that she hadn’t told him. She was pretty sure of that. With his lifestyle, she’d concluded he’d want nothing to do with a baby. She’d concluded he might never be back in Fawn Grove again. The circuit could take him anywhere, including to his best dreams. When he had enough money to fund his dreams, why would he want to come back to Fawn Grove? He could do or be anything he wanted. He could travel. He could have a different girl in each town and never get bored.
Ty had had a following of girls in high school. He’d been a wrestler and won a state championship his senior year. However, the book on him was that he didn’t date much. When did he have time with wrestling practice and chores on the Cozy C? But when he did date, he dated a different girl every time. The thing was, the girls he dated only once still spoke highly of him. They still liked him. They said he was polite and charming and made them laugh. He was a good time.
Marissa knew for certain that he was a good time. She looked at Jordan and she remembered that night with Ty explicitly.
The knock on her door came less than fifteen minutes later. She answered it quickly, wanting to get the issue over with, wanting to get it resolved. If it was resolvable.
She’d wiped Jordan down. Somehow he always managed to dip his fingers into the bowl and then smear the gravy all over his face. Now he was sitting in his play saucer with its activity center, bouncing a bit, manipulating the buttons on a ring on one side of the play table. There were activities the whole way around the circle. His attention span was the strongest when he was playing there. Her attention span right now was zilch.
Her heart thudded hard as she let Ty in and wondered again what he was going to say. More important, what he was going to do.
“Would you like coffee?” she asked, maybe trying to postpone the inevitable. “I don’t have any beer.”
