Reunited with the Cowboy (2 page)

Heather folded her arms over her chest. “Sure. Okay.” With a tight nod she climbed back into the truck, then moved over, closer to Adana, so he could swing in beside her.

It was a little too close for comfort, he thought, as he shut the door.
You'll have to help me through this, Lord
, he prayed as he turned up the fan in the truck.
Help me remember that Adana is my priority. Help me to remember Sandy and my promise to her to keep our daughter safe. Help me not to be distracted by Heather and her crazy life.

It had happened too many times in the past. He hoped by now he had learned his lesson. Heather was like candy. Sweet, attractive, but with no staying power. And as he glanced over at his daughter, he caught her watching him with her bright blue eyes, so like Sandy's it made his heart ache. Adana was his responsibility and she was all he needed in his life.

He felt Heather's arm brush his as she settled into the seat, her arms crossed, eyes resolutely ahead.

She couldn't look more uncomfortable if she was on her way to an execution.

He shifted closer to the door, reminding himself that Heather was a complication he just had to deal with until she was gone. Because she would leave. In spite of how excited her sister and mother were about her returning home, he knew she wouldn't stay as long as they believed she would. Leaving had been the story of her life and the refrain of their relationship. She couldn't have changed much in six years.

Chapter Two

H
eather tried not to panic as she stood on the road watching her car, resting on the flat deck of Dwayne's tow truck, head back to Saddlebank.

It'll be okay, she reminded herself. How damaged could a car get from hitting a ditch? She chose not to think about the whine she'd been hearing since Rapid City, South Dakota. The car would be fine.

She was staying at the ranch until the weekend. That should give them enough time to fix it. Then she could head out to Seattle for her job interview.

A prayer hovered on the periphery of her thoughts, a remnant of a youth spent going to church. But she brushed it aside. She'd sent out many prayers the past few years. None of them had been answered, and she doubted any would be now. She had learned the hard way that she was on her own in this world.

A quick glance back showed her that John had already moved Adana's car seat to the middle of the cab, putting the little girl between the two adults.

As Heather got back in the truck, Adana reached out to her dad. “We see Grammy?” she asked.

“No, honey. We'll see Grammy another time,” John said as he started the engine and made a U-turn on the road.

“Wanna see Grammy,” Adana whined. “See Grammy.”

“Sorry, honey.” He gave Heather an apologetic look. “We were on our way to Sandy's parents for dinner. They're leaving on a trip and had hoped to see Adana before they went.”

Heather felt guilty. She remembered all too well the first time Sandy, taking pity on the new girl at school, had taken her home with her. Kim Panko, Sandy's mother, had been friendly enough, but Heather had an innate ability to read people—a necessary skill developed as a result of the constant moves she and her natural mother, Beryl Winson, had made the first ten years of Heather's life. Over the course of the two girls' friendship, Sandy's mother had reminded Heather often how fortunate she'd been to be taken in and adopted by the Bannister family. She suspected Kim wouldn't be pleased to find out her return to Saddlebank was the reason John and Adana hadn't come for supper.

“I could have called my dad to pick me up,” she said. “Or Keira.”

“And it would have taken them half an hour to get here. It's fine.”

Heather folded her hands in her lap, looking directly ahead, wondering if waiting in the chilly wind would have been preferable to riding with John and his daughter, feeling guilty because her mistake had prevented them from visiting Sandy's parents.

“Your mother is excited to see you,” John said, his own eyes on the road. “That's all she's been talking about since she found out you were coming.”

“I'm excited to see her and Dad, too. It's been so long.”

“So why—” John stopped himself there. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“Why was I gone so long?” Heather blamed the sharp note in her voice on the delayed reaction to plowing her car into the ditch. It had nothing to do with seeing her old boyfriend again.

John gave her a direct look, his blue eyes seeming to bore into her. Then he glanced away.

“I couldn't get the time off. I would have come if I could.” The words sounded lame, even to her.

“Pwease, have earrings,” Adana said, reaching for the feather-shaped baubles tangled in Heather's long hair.

“Those are too dangerous for you to play with,” she replied.

“And probably too expensive,” John added. He was smiling, but Heather caught the faintest hint of reproach.

She could have told him that she'd picked these up on the cheap from a street vendor at Herald Square as she'd been hurrying to an interview for yet another low-paying job. But saying so would require an explanation as to why she was forced to work in a retail job—any job, actually—when she'd made so much money modeling. Which would mean delving into the sorry state of her finances and her relationship with Mitch.

Your new job is the start of your new life
, she reminded herself.
Only if you can get to Seattle. Only if your car gets fixed in time.

Adana yawned loudly, then laid her head back against her car seat, blinking slowly. She looked tired, but turned to Heather again, softly smiling and reaching out to touch her arm.

Sorrow lacerated Heather's soul at the contact, and she felt as if her breath was sucked out of her body. Seeing this little girl up close brought back painful memories of her own loss.

“Are you sure you're okay?” John asked her. “You look like you're in pain. Did you get hurt when your car hit the ditch?”

Heather fought for composure, slowly breathing in and out. “No. I'm fine.” The aches in her body would go away. The one in her soul would be with her always. She'd thought she had buried it, but Adana was a reminder of what she had lost.

“I hope she sleeps a bit,” John was saying. “She's been out of sorts the last few days. Getting shuffled around too much.”

“My mom takes care of her when you're working, doesn't she?”

“She did. But after your mom broke her neck, your mom's friend Alice has been helping out. She's a good person, just...” John stopped there.

“Not the same as her mother,” Heather finished for him.

He nodded at her comment. “No. And I can't give Adana that.”

Heather heard the sorrow in his voice and felt a glimmer of envy for the person he was grieving.

“Your daughter looks a lot like Sandy,” she couldn't help saying.

“That's what everyone tells me,” John replied, his features softening as he smiled at his little girl. “Thankfully, she has Sandy's sweet personality, too.”

“Lucky her. Sandy was a wonderful person and a good friend. I'm sure...I'm sure you miss her.”

John laid his hand on Adana's legs, curling his fingers around them, as if reinforcing the connection between them. “Thankfully, I still have Adana.”

Heather knew his comment was a simple statement of fact, but she couldn't help feeling a gentle reprimand. She should have sent a sympathy card after Sandy's death, but Heather and John had had a complicated history. Too many missed opportunities.

Too many wrong choices.

Heather stopped herself from delving into the past as she stared at the road ahead. This visit to the ranch was a chance to catch her breath. Connect with her family before she headed out to a job that she felt would give her some control over her runaway life.

She glanced at John's profile. In spite of the tension that seemed to have settled between them like a silent visitor, she felt that curious twinge of attraction that was always between them.

His features were even, well proportioned. His narrow nose, angled cheekbones and strong chin with the faintest hint of scruff all combined in perfect harmony. Even his tousled blond hair added to the look of a man who commanded attention everywhere he went.

Aware of her scrutiny, he sent a puzzled glance her way. “What's wrong?”

She laughed. “Nothing. I was just thinking you'd make a good model.”

His eyes narrowed. “That's not the kind of life I'd like.”

The harsh note in his voice seemed like another reprimand of her previous lifestyle.

Modeling had made her a lot of money, but had also brought her a lot of grief. It had created a false sense of what had value and what didn't. And from the frown on John's face, it had caused an even larger chasm between them.

“It isn't for everyone,” she admitted quietly.

“Did you enjoy it? Modeling?”

She easily heard his unspoken questions.

Why did you quit college? Why did you choose Mitch over me?

“I don't think I would have chosen that career if it wasn't for Mitch,” Heather responded, trying not to sound defensive.

“He got you your first job, didn't he?”

She gave a curt nod, remembering too well Mitch's promises of big money that had made her quit college when things got hard. And the money had come those first few years. She had been able to repay the Bannisters the sum they had put up for her college expenses, which had made her feel she'd repaid her debt to them. But even as she'd experienced some success, it all came to a crashing halt when Mitch had made some bad investments. The first thing he lost was the fancy apartment, the second, his control over his temper.

Regret, Heather's constant companion, shivered through her.

“I was sorry to hear about your divorce,” John said. “I'm sure...it's been hard.”

“It's okay. I'm over the worst of it,” she told him, with a careful shrug.

Which was a lie, she thought, unable to keep herself from glancing at Adana again. Heather had thought she was over the worst, until she saw John and his perfect little girl—both stark reminders of what she had given up to seek a life she'd thought she'd wanted.

She looked ahead, drawing on old survival skills, tricks she'd learned to get through whatever faced her.

You're on your own, Heather
,
she reminded herself.
Only you can take care of you.

* * *

“Thanks for bringing our girl home,” Monty said, taking one of Heather's suitcases from John as he stepped off the back of his truck. “How badly is Heather's car damaged?”

“Not sure. Dwayne said he would tell Alan to call you and let you know,” John said as he set a second suitcase on the ground. “But from what I could see, the front end was badly dented up and the tires had come off the rims.”

Monty frowned as he digested that information. “Well, we're glad she's okay.”

John nodded, then glanced past him to where Heather stood, hugging her sister. The lights from the ranch house spilled out, casting them in stark relief.

Ellen stood to one side, her arm around Heather's shoulder, her neck brace preventing her from doing more than that.

When the two girls drew apart, Heather kissed her mom carefully on the cheek. Then John saw Ellen gently wipe her adopted daughter's face, her own features looking pained. “Oh, baby girl,” he heard her say. “We missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” The broken note in Heather's voice troubled him. She had never been one to share her emotions. To see her so vulnerable created a push-pull of tangled emotions. He shook his head, then turned back to Monty.

“I better get going. Adana is still sleeping, but she's probably hungry. Never did make it to Saddlebank for dinner with Kim and Rex.” His in-laws were leaving on a cruise and had hoped to see him and Adana before they left tomorrow. It was too late to go back now.

“Would you like to join us?” Ellen asked.

Heather's head swung toward him the same time he looked her way. It wasn't too hard to see the alarm on her features. Seemed as if she was as anxious about spending time with him as he was with her.

“It's okay,” he said, holding up a gloved hand. “I'm sure you have lots to catch up on with Heather. I don't want to impose.”

“Oh, since when are you imposing?” Ellen protested. “You eat here plenty.”

“And that's why I should let you have some time alone.” Sitting with Heather in the truck had been harder than he wanted to admit to himself. She was part of his youth, his past. She'd only ever been his girlfriend, unlike Sandy, who had been his wife.

“Thank you for that,” Monty said. He leveled John a steady look, and behind that gaze John sensed an unspoken question.

Was Heather's presence going to cause a problem?

Monty had always been very protective of Heather, a legacy of her troubled past, most likely, and John had always tried to tread carefully where she was concerned. That's why, back in high school, he had waited to date her. That Mitch had beat him to it was poor luck and bad timing. However, when John had finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, it was with fear and trepidation of what Monty would think. Whether he was worthy enough to date the boss's daughter. But once he did, he and Heather had fallen hard for each other. And started making plans.

He had always wondered if the Bannisters had encouraged Heather to go to college precisely to forestall their plans.

Adana's wails from the truck reminded him of his other obligations. His main priority.

“I better get her back to the house,” he said, taking a step away.

He caught Monty's nod of approval, and as he walked to the truck John found he had to stifle his frustration. Did Monty still see him only as the foreman's son?

But in spite of his feelings, in spite of their time apart, he couldn't help glancing back at Heather.

Their eyes met and held, John feeling the too-familiar ache in his heart.

He shook it off, turning his attention to Adana. He had his little girl to think of and she needed security and stability in her life.

Heather represented anything but that.

* * *

“Got clean tights, diapers, sippy cup, pacifier.” John marked off the checklist as he went through the diaper bag. Though his home wasn't that far from the main ranch house, he always liked to make sure Adana had enough provisions for the day.

“Want to go,” his daughter said, as he packed up. She scooted away from him toward the back door, as if she knew exactly what was happening next.

“Yeah. I know, munchkin. I'm coming,” he said. They were running a little later than usual this morning. After breakfast John had cleaned up the house, did a load of laundry and organized the diaper bag. All in an effort to put off going to the main house.

Monty and Ellen always invited him in for coffee when he brought Adana over, and he always accepted, but Heather was there now.

He hooked the bag over his shoulder, scanning the house to make sure that everything was in order. This was the home he had grown up in, as the son of the foreman. It was compact and simple, and it was home for him and Adana.

It was a cozy place, he reminded himself. Sandy had never wanted to move back to Saddlebank after they got married, preferring their life together in Great Falls. However, there were times he'd imagined the two of them living here, after Monty had offered him a job working on the ranch. But Sandy never wanted to live in their hometown, so the dream had never materialized.