Home on the Ranch: The Rancher's Surprise
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Pamela Britton
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Chapter 1
Some days Charlotte Bennett just wanted to chuck it all and become a professional dog walker. Today was one of those days.
“Is it over yet?” she muttered, rubbing her temples.
“I know, right?” Susan, the receptionist at Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services, peeked her head into Charlotte’s office. “And it’s about to get better.” She paused for effect. “He’s here.”
Charlotte released a deep sigh. “Already? That was fast.”
The brows above Susan’s blue eyes lifted. “I know.”
At least he’d shown up. “What’s he like?”
Hard to sum up a man after meeting him just one time, Charlotte knew, but Susan had a sixth sense when it came to people. Maybe it was her gray hair—she claimed she’d earned every strand. Maybe it was her nurturing nature, perfect for someone who dealt with the heartache and chaos of rescuing children. Susan liked to say the eyes were the windows to a person’s soul, and she was pretty good at peeking through the glass.
“He seems...nice.” Susan tipped her head, her pageboy hairstyle brushing her shoulder. “Upset, but nice.”
Maverick Gillian had every reason to be upset. It wasn’t every day that a man discovered he was the father of a little girl.
“Go ahead and bring him in.”
Susan nodded, but there was an odd tinge to the woman’s half smile, one that reminded Charlotte of someone right before they delivered a punch line. She wondered about it, but only for a moment, because a few seconds later their guest stood in her office doorway and she knew the root of Susan’s bemusement.
Maverick Gillian was hot.
The thought, so unprofessional, so completely out of character for her, jolted her like the sudden jerk of a roller coaster ride. He stood there, hesitant, looking out of place in his light blue shirt and denim jeans—as if he’d just ridden in from the range and his horse was tied up outside. Just staring at him made a flush spread up her neck and into her cheeks, and she realized he was waiting for her to invite him in or to do something other than stare up at him, frozen, and silently gawk.
She shot up out of her chair. It flew backward, colliding with the window behind it. The heat in her cheeks had likely turned into crimson stains of humiliation at the seriously amateurish display. She grabbed the chair, rolled it toward her, turned and pasted a smile on her face.
“Mr. Gillian. Come in,” she said as she sat down.
“Miss Bennett.” He took off his straw cowboy hat, sat down and then settled the hat on his lap, but she noticed he fiddled with the edge. She knew how he felt. Thank goodness for the buffer zone the desk provided.
“Thanks for coming down so quickly.”
“Of course.” His eyes were wide. He fidgeted for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about it the whole way here and, like I said on the phone, this has to be some kind of mistake.”
Dark hair and eyes that weren’t just blue—they were shock-you-with-their-intensity blue—stared at her imploringly. A day’s growth of beard surrounded a mouth far too sensual to belong to a man. The razor stubble chased his jawline and dipped partly down his neck. His brows were so low and thick and his eyelashes so dark they added even more punch to the color of his eyes.
“I know this must come as a shock.” She forced herself to take a deep breath. “But I assure you, it’s no mistake.”
She absently reached for the file resting on her desk. The name Olivia Gillian was spelled out in Arial font across the tab and she stared at it for a moment, recalling the home they’d pulled the child out of two days ago. That must be why she felt so off balance. Lack of sleep. As the director of Via Del Caballo Child Protective Services, she’d seen some bad situations before, but Olivia’s living conditions had been one of the worst. Rotting food. Drug paraphernalia. And a stench of filth that had clung to the toddler when they’d removed her from the home. It had broken Charlotte’s heart.
“From what we’ve been able to glean, Rebecca Templeton, Olivia’s mom, was in the process of filing a paternity suit against you, but she never completed the process.”
“But...that’s impossible. I mean, we never... We didn’t.” He stared at her for a moment, clearly trying to gain control of his emotions. “I swear I never touched Becca.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard words like that. She answered them with the same question she always asked. “So why do you think she named you as the father of her child on the birth certificate? And why does the child have your last name?”
“I don’t know. Desperation, maybe?”
“Did you know Rebecca?”
What a stupid question to ask. Of course he’d known her. She’d verified that this morning. She felt her chest flush in embarrassment.
“I mean, she must have had some reason to think...”
“No, she did not. I assure you. Yes, I was with her at a bar once upon a time, but that was, gosh, at least two years ago, and that was the last time I saw her. She got a little too drunk. I drove her home, but that was it. Nothing happened.”
She’d heard that before, too. It remained to be seen if it was actually true. “We found your cell number in her phone.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, we went to high school together. She was a friend, at one point my best friend, but that was a long time ago.” He grew more flustered, looked down at his hat and spun it around in his hands in the manner of a man who sought words he couldn’t find.
“Your best friend?”
He looked up, nodded, regret in his eyes. “We were pals up through grade school.”
She leaned forward. “Mr. Gillian, did Rebecca Templeton ever try and contact you in the past two years? We looked through her phone but didn’t see any recent calls.”
She watched him carefully. He might make her feel small and ridiculous and wholly feminine, but he was just a man, and she knew firsthand not to trust them.
This man looked her straight in the eye when he said, “Once. After the bar. It was clear she wanted to hook up.” She watched him grow more and more tense with each word. “But I told her no. Never heard from her again.”
If only she had a dollar for every man who’d denied paternity who turned out to be lying she’d be a rich woman. But this man seemed to be genuinely distraught. His eyes had lost focus for just a split second as he looked back through time, but it was long enough for her to see sadness in his gaze.
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are named as the father.”
He leaned back as if the weight of the world had been suddenly thrust upon his shoulders, and she supposed in a way it had. He toyed with the hat again.
“What’s her name?”
“Whose name?”
“The child.”
“Olivia.” She fiddled with the sheet of paper in front of her. “About a year and a half old, so the timing fits.”
“Yeah, but like I said, there’s no way.”
She nodded. “We’ll have to perform a paternity test. In the meantime, you’re Olivia’s dad, according to official documents.”
“But I’m not.”
She gave him her most professional smile. She’d dealt with this type of situation before, too.
“I’ve done a preliminary record search. Rebecca’s mom and dad are both deceased. No siblings. There’s nobody to take care of the child.”
“But you can’t just name someone as the father of your child when it isn’t true.”
“Unfortunately, you can, Mr. Gillian, but it’s your word against Rebecca’s—or Becca, as you call her—and so until we sort it all out...”
“I’m on the hook?”
She pressed her hands against her desk. “Not exactly. We can keep her in emergency foster care for now. I’ll ask for a dependency court judge to order a paternity test. It’ll involve going to court, but I’m afraid there’s no way to avoid that.”
“So I’m gonna be dragged into this whole mess whether it’s true or not?”
“Pretty much.”
“Son of a—”
She moved the file closer to her and opened it. “But if you’re refusing custody, that’s okay. I can take care of it from this end.”
Why had she said the words that way? Like a challenge. Her job must be getting to her. Too many children and not enough foster parents to go around. They’d had to put Olivia with an older woman only ever used as a last resort. It wasn’t that she wasn’t an authorized caregiver, just that she wasn’t as spry, and it was getting harder for her to care for kids, especially little ones. She’d assured Mrs. Johnson it would be temporary. Clearly she’d been wrong.
“I think...” he said and took a deep breath. “I think I should maybe consult a lawyer.”
“You’re certainly welcome to do that. I even have the number of a family counseling center. In the meantime, I’ll try and find permanent lodging for little Olivia.”
“So what happens now?”
She shrugged. “I’ll make some calls. But you don’t need to worry. We’ll handle it.”
She hoped. It was anyone’s guess these days if they’d find someone to care for Olivia, and the realization that she had yet another kid in need filled her with frustration.
“What happens if you can’t find someone?”
“That won’t happen. Worst-case scenario, she’ll go to a group home.”
“You mean like an orphanage?”
“Not exactly. Those don’t exist anymore. But like I said, you don’t need to worry about it, Mr. Gillian. The next time I see you will be in court.” She didn’t mean to alarm him, but the muscles in his neck grew tense. “It’s standard procedure. You’re denying paternity. That’s your right. You’ll have to go to family court to prove it. You should receive a subpoena within the next few weeks.” She stood. “Thanks for coming in.”
But he didn’t stand up and she found it hard to breathe all of a sudden, because there it was again, the sadness.
“What happens if I take her and then later, when we verify I’m not her father, what happens then?”
Surprise held her hostage for a moment. She slowly sank back down. He couldn’t possibly mean...
“Well, that’s up to you. You could give her back to us, or you’d have the option of adopting her, but there’s no need to go through all that. If you’re not her father there’s no sense in involving you any further.”
She’d seen so many people like him over the years. Aunts. Uncles. Fathers. Mothers. People tasked with the choice of caring for a child or sending those children into the foster care system. Once upon a time she’d been one of those children. She always tried to remain impersonal, and usually she did a good job, but for some reason she held her breath as she waited for Maverick to respond.
“Becca was a friend,” he said, looking down at his hat. “Once upon a time a really good friend. I knew she was in bad shape. I should have done something that night when I ran into her in the bar.”
“Mr. Gillian.”
“Maverick,” he absently corrected.
“Maverick, none of this concerns you if what you say is true.”
His head shot up. “How hard would it be to take care of a child?”
She almost laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
His eyes had narrowed in seriousness. “No.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Yeah, but what if I have help? I have a lot of family.”
“It’s still a huge responsibility, Maverick. And if you’re serious, I would encourage you to take some time to think about it.”
He went completely still, and she felt like she was being scanned by infrared. “How does it all work? I mean, I assume you don’t just hand children over.”
“Well, I’d have to approve you as a nonrelated extended family member. There are forms you’d need to fill out and questions I’d need to ask, and I’d need to sign off on your place of residence. It’s a process.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “What kind of questions?”
Was he really ready to go down this road? What kind of man would do that? If what he said was true, if he really wasn’t the father, it made no sense. And if he really was the father and he was willing to take the child, why didn’t he just admit to paternity?
“Well, where would you live with Olivia?”
“I have a home. It’s on our family’s ranch. Gillian Ranch.”
Her spine snapped upright. Gillian Ranch? Holy... How had she not made the connection? This man was Via Del Caballo royalty. Part of the Gillian family, locals who’d made themselves famous in the sport of rodeo. For the first time she began to wonder if maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he really wasn’t the father. His family money would be powerful motivation to name him as dad. She’d seen it before. Charlotte struggled to remember what else they did. Horses, she thought. They raised them. And grapes. They had a vineyard. Money. Lots and lots of money.
“Do you have a job?”
“Of course.”
“Doing what?”
“I work the family ranch.”
Of course he did. “Steady income?”
“Yup.”
“Any felonies, convictions...?”
“Nope.”
This was silly. “Look, if you’re really considering this, why don’t I give you the next twenty-four hours to think about it? Then I can grill you.”
“Twenty-four hours.” His intense blue eyes held her own in a way that made her want to look away.
“Do you need more than that?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, breaking eye contact and looking at the ground. “I honestly don’t know what the hell I’m thinking.”
But he wanted to help. That much was clear. Good-looking and bighearted.
She took a deep breath. “Would it help if you met her?”
“When?”
“Today, if I can arrange it.”
He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, hat still dangling from his fingers. “I think I should.”
She’d give the man points for going the extra mile, but she doubted he’d actually go through with it. No man in his right mind would take on the task of caring for a child who wasn’t his own. Unless there was a chance he was lying. But, no, she’d begun to think he really wasn’t Olivia’s father. Then again, she’d been fooled before.
“Just give me a minute to make some calls.” She forced a smile.
“How about you let me know when she’s here?” He played with the hat again and she noticed his sleeves were rolled up, a dusting of thick hair atop his hands.
She felt her heart do that odd little flip again. “Sounds good.”
He stood up and turned, leaving in his wake a masculine musk that brought to mind brown sugar, oatmeal and hard work. She sank back into her chair, clutched the arms of it.
He’s just a man. A good-looking, softhearted, do-the-right-thing kind of man. Nothing unique about that. Except they were rare in her world.
For the first time she wondered if she might have found a man she could actually like.
