Texas Ranger Dad (8 page)

And that was what he'd been afraid of all these years. That what she'd felt for him had really only been misplaced emotions due to his protector role.

Only after his near-death experience had he finally decided he had to find out. And so he'd come to Mule Hollow to see if what they'd had was real. His second chance had turned into so much more. God had given him a chance to know Max. But his resentment of Rose lingered and with it that undeniable connection that he couldn't shake.

Rose was coming out of the pasture, so he used her approach as a way not to continue the conversation. What could he say?

She moved with the quick grace of a woman who had things to do and places to be. Without preamble, she set the bag on the table near him, her gaze touching his like the quick sting of a wasp before lighting on Max. She had purple juice splattered all over herself, across her goggles, her cheek and down her neck.

“I'm going to go work in the kitchen. If you need me, just call,” she told him then strode toward the house.

It was clear that she was tolerating him for Max's sake—just like he was doing.

So why couldn't he pull his gaze from her?

“Sure thing,” Max said, not giving away to her that he'd just taken Zane to the mat. He poured some sad-looking fruit out onto the table.
“Mom,”
he said, laughing. “What happened? You
killed
them.”

She cringed. “Sorry.”

Zane chuckled unexpectedly and drew a pointed look from her. It only made Max's grin widen broadly as she cut those eyes back to him.

“I'll need those as soon as you can get them to me,” she said coolly before heading toward the house at a brisk gait.

Max lifted one shoulder. “She gets like that when she has stuff on her mind.” He pulled his goggles down and picked up his torch. “I better get a move on.”

“Sounds that way.” Zane's attention was drawn back toward the house where Rose was removing her equipment. As he watched, she lifted both hands and smoothed her hair as if smoothing the tendrils would smooth her nerves. Unexpectedly, she glanced his way and caught him watching her. She froze, then yanked open the door and stalked inside.

“I better do the same. It's time for me to relieve Brady from duty.” He started to go then stopped. “Max, I honestly never meant to hurt your mom.”

Max looked somberly at him. “I don't think she knows that.”

He squeezed Max's shoulder, wanting to hug him instead, but not sure if now was the right time. “I'll see you later.”

“Yes, sir. Later.”

Zane's heart felt like lead as he climbed in his truck and headed back toward town. For a man who'd always seen things in black and white, his entire world suddenly seemed washed in gray.

“S
on, ya got a long row ta hoe,” Applegate said the next morning. He lifted a bushy brow. “Ya know that, don't ya?”

Zane frowned into his coffee. “Yes, sir,” he said, resigned to the fact that he was about to get plenty of free advice. With his dark mood he probably should have skipped the diner and headed straight to the office, but he wasn't thinking completely straight today.

Sam leaned a hip against the counter. “I know yer upset 'bout her not telling that boy you were his dad, but from what we've been told, that little gal has been through enough to break most folks.”

“Yep,” Stanley said, talking loud as he and App usually did. “She's a scrapper. It's hard to believe all she's been through. To look at her you'd never believe it.”

“So now what?” Applegate boomed, walking over from his forgotten checker game. “You gonna fight fer yourself.”

“I'm going to fight for my son,” Zane said.

Stanley grunted. “A smart man would fight fer yor
family
.”

“I don't have a family.” There was still that resentment for what he'd missed—unbelievably strong this morning.

“Oh, phooey!” Applegate exploded. “Don't be a fool. Ya know good and well ya could have a family. If you were a big enough man to get past feelin' sorry fer yourself. You goofed. She goofed. Get over it and on with it.”

“Now, App, he don't know that, and neither do you,” Sam said. “Rose has a mind of her own. She might not want him after what he did. She might not want to forgive him.”

“He could make her want him if he had a mind to,” Stanley said, spitting a sunflower seed into the spittoon. “A man's got ta know when ta fight fer what he wants.”

Sam glared at him. “And I'm saying he kin fight all he wants, but if Rose don't want him then he ain't got a chance.”

Okay, that about did it for him in the advice department. Zane pushed away from the counter. “I'm standing right here, fellas, so would you stop talking about me like I'm not.” He'd struggled with his next move all night.

Applegate scowled. “I gotta say, I ain't so sure you're all here. I mean, if you cain't look at that little woman and see a jewel to be won, then thar must be a hole in yer head.”

Zane blinked back his sudden irritation. He hadn't known these old guys long, but it was obvious they didn't pull punches. “I guess I have a hole in my head.” He slapped a buck on the counter and stalked to the
door. He could feel steam boiling and would have welcomed another hole in his head to relieve it.

He wasn't sure about anything at the moment except that he wanted to build a relationship with Max. Sure, he couldn't deny that despite everything there were feelings battling inside of him where Rose was concerned.

Outside, he glared toward the dress store as he walked down the sidewalk to the office. He had too much time on his hands. So far, fixing Mrs. Lovelace's flat had been his most eventful day. He'd had far too much time to dwell on Rose. He hated to wish for something to happen at work, but even something small like another flat tire would give him a momentary reprieve. Maybe then some of the confusion would dissipate.

But this was Mule Hollow, making the odds slim that he'd get any distraction. He kept reminding himself that his job being boring was a good thing for the quiet little town.

To his amazement, the phones started ringing the instant he walked into the office. For starters, a loaded-down cattle hauler had blown a tire, hit a tree and tipped over out on the north side of the county. There were stressed-out cattle running loose up and down the county road. This time they called Prudy's wrecker service to haul away the truck while he and Brady rounded up the cattle until new transportation could be arranged. Needless to say it was a chaotic morning that lasted through lunch. No sooner had they gotten that taken care of than a call came in on a grass fire. As he turned on the lights of the patrol vehicle and fell in line behind Brady's truck, heading toward the fire, he decided maybe wishing for something to take his mind off Rose had been a bad idea.

 

Rose had just locked the door for the day when Zane walked across the street and stepped onto the sidewalk. He looked tired and hot as he scooped his hat off and held it limply in one hand. She had never seen him looking rumpled and was startled to see him this way. There was mud caked to his boots and the bottoms of his jeans and his shirt was damp. His short hair clung to his forehead. She'd heard about the cattle truck and the fire.

“Hello, Rose.”

“Hi,” she acknowledged, and tried hard not to notice how good he looked even rumpled. “Even if I hadn't already heard, I could look at you and tell you've had a busy day.”

He gave her a tired smile. “I was under the false assumption that nothing ever happened around here.”

“We have our moments. I'm glad the man driving that cattle hauler is okay.”

He nodded. “Word spreads quickly around here.”

“Surely that doesn't surprise you.”

“Not really.” They studied each other as an awkward moment of silence ticked by.

“I was just about to leave. Is there something you needed in the store?”

“No.”

Okay, then, she thought, and headed toward her car. “Rose,” he said, catching up to her. “I think we need to talk.”

“We've been talking.” She was evading the issue and she knew it.

“I mean
really
talk. This situation isn't going to fix itself if we don't figure some things out. Peacefully.”

“Talk about what? You trying to get custody of my son?” The words were out before she could stop them. Ever since seeing him and Max laughing together yesterday, she'd been fighting off horrible visions of being left out.

“
Our
son,” he said firmly.

She stiffened, feeling volatile. “Our son,” she amended after a moment.

“We need to find a way to get along. For Max's sake,” he added. “Can we do that?”

“For
Max,
I'll do anything.” No matter how hard.

“Even talk to a snake like me,” he asked, with a hint of a smile.

“Don't push your luck,” she warned. “So, what do you suggest?” she asked. He hadn't answered her question about custody, but she was under no illusion. He'd probably avoided answering the question on purpose. If he was going to try to get custody of Max, then maybe her best defense was to let him see her and Max in their home environment.

He surprised her by leaning past her and opening her car door. He smelled of smoke, reminding her that he'd spent all afternoon helping the men in the fire department to stop a grass fire from getting out of control. When his arm brushed hers, she shivered. Even after everything that had happened between them she'd never felt so aware of any man in her life as she did with Zane.

Fool.

“I have a question. I was wondering if you'd mind if I took Max with me to look at a piece of property I'm considering. Haley left the key for me so I could look at it tonight.” He held up a key.

Rose's heart skipped a beat. The fact that he wanted Max to help him pick out a new home increased her
apprehension. “If he wants to go, I won't stand in his way,” she said. What else could she say?

“Thank you. He tells me he wants his own ranch one day.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head. Max was sharing his dreams with Zane. It was normal and she had to be glad for Max. He had his dad in his life. She was happy for him. “Yes. He loves everything about life here. Look, I'm going by to see Dottie before I head home, so you can just run out there and pick him up. I'm certain he's getting a new batch of fruit ready for me to cook. Tell him I'll be a little late and to go with you and have a good time.”

“I hoped we could talk after I bring him home.”

She slid behind the wheel, feeling sick. He draped one arm over the door and bent slightly as he looked down at her. It was too cozy for comfort as she looked up at him. “Sure,” she lied.

His gaze softened. “Thank you. Do you think after we get back you could show me some pictures of Max?”

Pictures meant sitting down, thumbing through albums! It meant sharing her past. It meant exposing her and Max's special moments to his scrutiny.

But…how could she deny him? “Yes, certainly. And, um, we can have copies made of anything you want.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, looking as if she'd just promised him the world.

Him looking like that was a dangerous thing!

“Be careful,” he said, tapping the top of the car before closing her door.

Be careful?
Ha! If she were being careful, she would never have invited her worst nightmare to come and sit on the couch and casually thumb through her and Max's life.

R
ose had just added a cutting board piled high with fruit into one of her four stockpots, when she heard Zane and Max drive up. “Stay calm,” she muttered, blotting her damp forehead with the back of her sleeve. “Everything will be okay.”

Will it?

How was she supposed to think positively when that voice in her head contributed statements like that?

“Yes, it will.” If there was one thing she was good at, it was making lemonade out of lemons. Not just lemons, but rotten lemons. And this was just about as rotten as it got. Zane would not take her son.

He just wouldn't.

If he was as
lovely
a man as the entire town believed—Dottie included—then he wouldn't!

She'd thought Dottie would help her figure out a game plan to keep the man away from her and Max, but she'd been sadly mistaken. Dottie had been curious about how she was handling Zane's arrival, but infatuated, just like Ashby was, with the entire situation.
Everyone's romanticism of her and Zane's past was wearing thin.

“Hey, Mom,” Max called, bursting through the doorway.

He came straight to her and gave her a quick hug, which was very much needed.

“Hey yourself, kiddo.” She met Zane's gaze over his shoulder.

He'd stopped just inside the doorway and looked as uncomfortable as she felt. It gave Rose a wicked sense of satisfaction—this one-sided stuff was the pits.

“Mom, how about if Dad stays for supper?”

Rose's heart clutched at the title and any pleasure she'd felt disappeared. “Sure,” she managed, lifting one corner of her lip in a semblance of a smile, but her hand shook as she reached for the hot pads. It was normal for Max to want Zane to stay. Normal for him to call him Dad.

What do you mean, normal! Nothing about this is normal.

Rose shoved away the hysterical voice. It was just going to have to learn to cope.

Cope. Cope. Cope. She let the word roll through her like a mantra. She could cope. She could cope right along with the best of them. “Why don't you go get washed up,” she said to prove it.

“Great,” Max said, draping his arm over her shoulders as he was prone to do since he'd grown taller than her. “I'm starved, and after the day Dad's had, I'm sure he is, too.” He'd turned them both so they were facing Zane.

Zane was still standing just inside the door and despite her trepidation about the entire situation she felt her heart tug.

Not good. Not good at all. The handsome, hard planes of his face did nothing to dispel the fact that he looked to her like a kid hovering on the outskirts of something he wanted very much to be involved in. Whether she wanted to or not, she felt for him.

“We can look at the pictures you wanted to see of Max after dinner. Please stay.”

He shifted his weight from one long, booted leg to the other and nodded. “I'd like that.”

“All right!” Max shouted. “I'll be right back.”

They both watched him disappear down the hall. Her heart pounded as she turned toward the stove—which seemed to be its normal pace when Zane was around. Of course it could be fear of what he could take from her that drove the pounding…not that long-ago attraction. This was a possibility, she reasoned.

But whatever it was it was trouble.

“Max told me you had a lot of work to do tonight,” Zane said, coming to stand near the stove. He leaned forward and peeked at the magenta concoction in the pots. “From the looks of things, I feel bad intruding. I know you must not have time for this.”

“No. I have it under control.” She glanced at the large pots on the burners and then the other fruit she'd begun to prepare that was waiting its turn. “You can wash up at the sink if you like or follow Max.”

“This is fine,” he said, picking up the liquid soap and dispensing some into his palm.

The kitchen suddenly seemed too confining, and she wished Max would hurry up. She didn't really know what to say, and so she said nothing. Just found herself staring at Zane's back as he scrubbed his hands at the sink.

“It smells good in here,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Sweet,” Rose croaked, startled at being caught staring. “Sickeningly so after a while,” she blurted out. Snatching up the hot pads, she fumbled to open the oven and seriously considered keeping her head inside—she was so embarrassed.

Thankfully, Max came back into the kitchen moments later as she pulled out the casserole, saving her from having a full-blown breakdown.

“You should see the place Dad is thinking about buying. It's real nice.” He explained which property Zane had shown him as he grabbed three plates, then set them on the small table in the corner. The house wasn't big enough to have a dining room and normally the small table was enough. But as Rose set the casserole on a hot pad in the center, she was very aware how cozy one extra place setting made the seating arrangement.

“I know that place,” she said. “It has lovely oaks surrounding the house.”

“You like it?” Zane leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his impressive chest.

She nodded. Struggling not to stare, she gave a pot of fruit a stir.

“I liked it, too,” he said. “But I'm going to take my time. Hey, put me to work. What can I do?”

“Grab the forks for me,” Max said, snagging three glasses. “Since you're leaning on the drawer they're in and nobody else can get to them.”

Zane chuckled. “Hey, kid, watch yourself.”

Rose laughed. It startled her and she proceeded to reach for the tea and filled the glasses after Max put the ice in them. He and Rose had a little routine they followed getting their nightly dinner on the table. It
came from time spent in homes with other families and everyone pitching in to help. There was nothing different about what was going on now…except everything.

Max was chattering away, calling her Mom and Zane Dad. And if Zane felt there was anything uncomfortable about the situation, he didn't act like it anymore. The man suddenly acted right at home—which was the last thing she wanted him to be feeling. Wasn't it?

And it didn't stop with him placing forks and a serving spoon on the table. When they sat down, Max, who always blessed the food for them, passed that honor to Zane. Rose fought off the uneasy feeling that was building inside of her. Max was getting a little too cozy with all of this. But she didn't know what to do about it; she was completely confused.

“So Max tells me you've already got orders for your jelly.”

She set her fork on her plate, feeling the familiar tingle of excitement she felt just thinking about her business. She grabbed the topic like a lifeline. “Yes. Several of the specialty shops that stock candy from the candy store have agreed to try my jelly. And I'm selling it at the concession stand that the candy store sets up at The Barn Theater tomorrow evening and Saturday afternoon. Since many of the people who are driving in for the show are tourists they might be interested.”

“It's small potatoes right now,” Max added. “But we've got plans.”

Rose explained. “Max and I are coming up with our business plan so we can get some financing to go larger.”

“That's right,” Max said. “We're trying to get some sales figures together and have future orders in hand before we approach the bank for a business loan.”

Rose felt a bubble of pride expand in her chest as she looked from Max to Zane. He looked just as proud of Max as she felt and their eyes locked as they shared the moment.

“I don't know if you've noticed, but your son is driven to succeed.” She said the words
your son
before she even realized it. Zane's eyes widened slightly, letting her know he was as surprised by her use of the term as she was. She knew he took it as acceptance. She, on the other hand, wasn't sure what it was.

“I could tell that,” he said. “When we were out looking at my prospective ranch, he was already negotiating the use of a cactus patch on it.”

“Max,” Rose gasped.

“Hey, Dad's not the only one I'm hitting up. If we want to expand this jelly business, we're going to need more fruit than these few acres can give us. Isn't that right?”

She couldn't help but give in to his charming grin. “I just didn't know you were already getting the ball rolling.”

“Mom, believe me, I have everything under control.” He looked from her to Zane. “Everything.”

She concentrated on her food, finishing it off, then picked up her plate, more than ready to get this evening over with. By bringing Zane into their home, she was unintentionally giving Max false hope that they could become a family. She steadied the butterflies of unease in her stomach and rose a few minutes later. “I guess if we're done we'll go into the living room and look at those pictures.”

“That sounds good,” Zane said hesitantly. “Are you sure though that another night wouldn't be better since you have so much to do tonight?”

“No. Tonight is fine.” She needed to get this over with. Get him out of her house and give him no other reason to enter it again.

“I'll go pull them out,” Max offered and left the room.

Rose stared after him. He hated looking at pictures. Then again, it wasn't every day that you got to show your dad your life for the first time. That familiar pang of guilt rang through her at the insight and drove her to keep her composure. She would manage the next hour, because this was for Max.

 

“I look like a conehead,” Max said, leaning over Rose to view the picture Zane had just chuckled at.

“You do not,” Rose protested. “You're beautiful.”

“You are supposed to say that. You're my mother.”

“So you had a pointed head,” Zane said, his heart warm with affection as he teased Max. “But I have to agree with your mom. You were a beautiful baby.”

“Hey!” Max exclaimed. “I don't call
you
beautiful!”

Zane laughed. “Forgive me. You're about as ugly as a hound dog. How's that?”

“Much better. I've had my cheeks pinched more times than I want to think about.”

“It's true,” Rose said. “He suffered for his beauty everywhere we lived.”

Zane tried to keep the mood lighthearted, but he was struggling. Every picture he looked at of Max and of Rose reminded him that he hadn't been there. Every remark like this one reminded him that they'd
lived like vagabonds, moving across the country from shelter to shelter. It also reminded him that Rose had denied him the right to be there for them.

“Hey, I promised Gil I'd call him before nine,” Max said, suddenly jumping up from the couch. “Mom, y'all should have some coffee out on the porch or something,” he offered amiably before jogging from the room.

The little sneak. Zane hadn't missed the kid's smooth move when they'd come into the living room to look at photos. Despite Rose's protest, Max had worked it out so that she was sitting on the couch between him and Zane. Now she scooted quickly to the spot Max had vacated and let the album slide in between them. Fine with him. He'd been more than aware of her for the past hour. He looked from Max's retreating back to Rose. Embarrassment etched her beautiful face. Yep. He'd found himself drawn to look at her over and over all evening. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that anymore.

“I've taken up too much of your evening,” he said, standing, needing to get away from her. He wondered whether she was aware that Max seemed to be trying to get them together.

She stood, too, and headed toward the kitchen, where the air was heavy with sweetness from the cooking fruit. He'd intended to leave straight away but as she moved one large pot from the stove to a hot pad and quickly placed another pot in its place, he found his boots weren't doing any walking. Nope, they were stuck to the floor, even though she hadn't taken Max's suggestion and invited him for coffee on the porch. That alone should have been his prompt to get lost. “I could help if you needed me to.”

“Oh? No.” She was pouring a colander full of prickly pear into the pot of water and glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don't need to do that. You have work tomorrow so you should go ahead and go.”

“You have work tomorrow, too.”

She reached for another loaded-down colander. “I can manage.”

When she didn't look at him he felt like he'd just been dismissed. There really was nothing else to keep him hanging around. He grabbed his hat from the hat rack. “I guess I'll head out, then. Thanks for showing me the pictures. And for dinner.”

She turned, her face flushed from the heat of the stove. “Have a good night.” Her voice was soft. Her eyes liquid.

His gut tightened looking at her and he stepped back feeling the screen door behind him. “You, too.”

She nodded with a faint smile and turned back to her cooking. Zane really took a step toward her, but whirled and put some distance between them as fast as his bum leg would let him. His mind was reeling—all he was thinking about was how kissable she'd looked. Since learning about Max, he'd gone through a stunning array of emotions from anger to this…this need to hold her. To feel her heart beating next to his.