Home with the Rodeo Dad
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Jeannie Watt
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17,7K
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16
HarlequinCHAPTER ONE
“EASY, BUTTON. We’re almost there.”
Troy Mackay glanced in the rearview mirror of his Ford F-250 as his six-month-old daughter’s warning cry became a full-fledged howl. His shoulders tightened in response, but he didn’t panic like he would have only a few months ago.
Livia hit a particularly high note just as the headlights shone over a mailbox with a crooked flag, at which point he was supposed to turn left, according to the directions his new landlord had given him.
“Just another mile, kiddo.”
Livia hiccupped, sucked in a breath and then howled again. Troy winced as he fought with himself to keep from stopping the truck right there.
An eternity later, which showed as four minutes on the dashboard clock, he rolled to a stop in front of a dark house and turned off the ignition. Livia went quiet, as if sensing that a big change was taking place.
It was.
Troy Mackay, former career rodeo rider was now Troy Mackay, single dad and full-time farrier. Or he would be full time as soon as he hung out his shingle and got Livia enrolled in the local daycare center.
Troy opened the rear door of the truck and unlatched the baby carrier. He was debating about whether to leave Livia strapped in or take her out and hold her when the porch light came on behind him.
He whirled toward the light, wondering if a place this old had motion sensors, then he saw movement in the reflected light on the windows. There was someone in the house. Quickly, he relatched the baby carrier, closed the door and stood protectively in front of the truck. This house was supposed to be empty, so what was he facing?
A squatter taking refuge, maybe?
Livia let out a howl that shattered the stillness of the night.
Get in the truck and drive. Come back in the morning.
The need to protect his daughter was paramount, and Troy was about to do just that, even though he had no place to go. Then the front door opened, and a young woman stepped out, hugging her long sweater around her body.
“Hi,” he called in the friendliest voice he could manage. “Maybe I’m at the wrong place. I’m looking for Littlegate Farm.”
“Why?” The woman pulled her sweater more tightly around her, and her chin lifted as she spoke.
Troy shifted his weight, perplexed by the woman’s tone. “Because I rented it.”
Her back stiffened. “I don’t think so.”
He frowned. “I have a contract.”
“No.”
“You want to see it?” he asked.
“No need. It’s not valid.”
Troy cocked his head stubbornly. “How so?”
“I own Littlegate Farm, and I promise you that I haven’t rented it to anyone.”
IF IT WASN’T for the baby crying in the pickup truck, Kat Farley would have called the sheriff and told him there was a guy standing on her driveway pretending that he had a right to be on her property. She still might do that, but first she was going to get more information, like who was this guy, and why did he think he’d rented this place?
Was he scamming her? There was no law saying scam artists couldn’t have babies.
Kat took an unconscious backward step. She might have taken another if the guy hadn’t kicked the dirt in front of him in frustration. He planted his hands on his hips and looked back at the truck as if he had no idea what his next move might be. Was he a great actor? Was this part of a bigger plan on his part? After recent events, she no longer trusted her judgment when it came to sussing out people’s true agendas.
“I don’t understand,” he finally said in a voice that did not smack of subterfuge. “I signed a contract to rent a place called Littlegate Farm for six months. This—” he pointed at the ground in front of him “—is Littlegate Farm?”
“There’s only one.” Kat wrapped her cardigan more tightly around her midsection as she took a cautious step forward to better see the guy, who stood just inside the pool of light cast by the bulb over her head. He was of average height, whipcord lean, but his shoulders indicated he was no stranger to physical labor. She couldn’t see his face beneath the felt cowboy hat, but she had a sense of angles.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Troy Mackay.” He jerked his head toward the truck. “My daughter, Livia.”
“Who rented the property to you?”
Her heart started beating a little faster as she waited for the reply that would hopefully clear up this mess.
“A work acquaintance of mine. Arlie Stokes.”
Kat stared at him for a frozen moment, then she tipped her head back with an exasperated exhalation. Arlie was the opportunist of the family, and it appeared that he’d come up with a way to earn some side cash.
“You know him?” There was a note of hope in Troy Mackay’s voice.
“He’s my cousin. His mom sold me this place. It isn’t his to rent.”
The sale had gone through so rapidly that Arlie could have been unaware, but he still had no right to rent his mother’s property.
“Then...”
She didn’t answer because she had no answer other than to send this guy on his way. This wasn’t a situation of her making, and she’d promised herself upon moving home that she wouldn’t get sucked into family drama, even as a small voice had whispered, “Fat chance.”
Score one for the small voice.
“I don’t have Arlie’s number,” she said.
“I do.” He pulled out his phone and searched his contacts, then he held the phone to his ear. The seconds ticked by, and his expression grew grimmer. Lowering the phone, he shook his head as the baby gave a heartrending cry from the interior of the truck.
Troy turned on his heel, strode to the truck and reached inside to fiddle with some straps. A moment later, he gently eased out a baby wearing a fuzzy sleeper and trailing a blanket, which dropped to the ground. He expertly balanced the baby against his hip and bent to pick it up.
Okay. This was his baby, not a prop in a scam.
He lifted the little girl to rest against his shoulder, murmuring to her while Kat watched. She wondered if he was taking advantage of the moment to garner sympathy or if he was a concerned dad comforting his baby.
The baby eventually quieted, but Troy kept rubbing her back through the fuzzy sleeper as he turned to Kat.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
She had the feeling that if it had just been him, he would have driven away and hunted down Arlie, but with the baby, he was honestly searching for answers.
“There’s some decent motels in town.”
“That’s an option,” he agreed.
“But...”
“But your cousin pretty much emptied me of cash.” He stared past her in the general direction of the house as he confessed, “I’ve had a run on my finances lately. I don’t want to drop a hundred bucks on a room for ten hours if I don’t have to.” He glanced back at her. “Do you have any idea how much diapers cost?”
Kat slowly shook her head, hating the corner she felt herself being backed into. She was not going to open her home to a stranger. Not even one with a baby.
A thought struck her.
“You can stay at my parents’ ranch on the other side of the valley.”
“I don’t think—”
“Trust me. They embrace this kind of stuff.” But Kat could understand his hesitation, and she didn’t want to send him on the twenty-mile drive across the valley with a tired, crying baby. Town was closer. “I’ll loan you the money for the motel room. We can meet tomorrow to talk about this.”
“Thanks, but no.” Troy turned and headed back to the truck. He opened the front and rear doors, and once again settled his daughter in the carrier.
“Where did you work with Arlie?”
He turned to look at her. “Michaels Short Haul Trucking. Kalispell.”
That sounded right. Arlie had been in Kalispell the last she’d heard, and he did contract trucking.
“The owners sold out and retired,” Troy added. “Arlie offered me this place before we parted ways.”
“When was that?”
“Last week. Arlie said something about going on vacation before looking for his next contract, which might be why I can’t raise him.”
Kat could see that Troy believed that theory about as much as she did. Arlie was probably lying low.
“All right.” The words left Kat’s lips before she could stop them. Troy frowned, and so did she. “You can stay here for one night, but I don’t have any beds.” She folded her arms over her midsection. “Yet. I’m in the process of moving in.”
He studied her from where he stood next to the truck, apparently weighing options, making her realize that he might be as cautious about this as she was. After all, he had a baby to look out for.
“The bedrooms have locks.” The old-fashioned kind with keys, and the solid wood doors were sturdy.
Troy hesitated and then pulled Livia back out of the carrier and settled her against him. “I hate to impose, but... I’m in a spot here.”
A spot her cousin had put him in. How was she supposed to send him on his way in the middle of the night?
“It’s the sensible thing to do,” she said. “It’s late, and your baby needs to get in out of the cold.”
Once again Troy hesitated as if desperately searching for an option that didn’t involve her or her family or dropping some of the little cash he had left. Apparently, he came up empty, because he reached inside the truck and pulled out a folding contraption that had to be a baby bed, then he and his daughter headed up the walk to the house that he’d thought would be his for the next few months.
When Kat saw her elusive cousin again, she was going to do him some harm. In the meantime, she’d call her family, apprise them of the situation in a voice loud enough to let Troy know that she had backup if necessary.
Several minutes later, after Troy had set up the baby bed and she’d found a pan in one of her still-unpacked kitchen boxes for him to use to warm baby formula in, she interrupted her mother’s late-evening oil-painting session and explained the events that had just unfolded on Littlegate Farm.
“Put him on the line,” Emily Farley said.
“What? No, Mom. I can handle this.” She lowered her voice to hiss into the phone. “I understand your concern, but I have this under control.” She raised her voice to a normal level and glanced toward the kitchen as she said, “I just wanted to tell you what was going on and to ask if anyone had heard from Arlie lately.”
“I haven’t, but I’ll check with your brothers. Andrew’s close to Kalispell. He might know something. And Kent always seems to know stuff no one else does.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep you posted.” She cleared her throat and then added in an undertone, “Don’t worry.”
“If you say you have this under control, I believe you.”
She had good reason. Kat was the Farley child who thought things through and considered consequences before acting. The one who’d built a safe and predictable life crunching numbers and putting money into a retirement fund. Not that she was a wimp. No one who’d grown up on the Farley Ranch could be considered that, but Kat was the only one in her family who felt the urge to freak out over situations that, well, required a freak-out.
Her mother was blessed with a personality that allowed her to face with equanimity the various inappropriate creatures her sons regularly brought into the house, the occasional fire or minor explosion, and the random broken bones.
The ranch stumbled along with no real plan of action other than a certainty that everything would turn out all right in the end. The ridiculous thing was that, so far, it had. Farley luck, her dad called it. He believed in it, as did her brothers. That belief was as much a part of her brothers’ personalities as was their need to push that envelope just a little further than sanity deemed safe.
Kat did not believe in Farley luck, nor did she have the unwavering belief that everything would work out in the end. Kat’s recent experience with Derek Cashman spoke to that. Although, upon reflection, she had to admit that things had worked out in a grim sort of way. Discovering the truth about the man she’d hoped to marry had the unexpected effect of kicking a long-dormant Farley gene to life. Instead of retreating and considering options, Kat had done the opposite. She’d made a move.
A Farley-esque move.
An in-your-face-Derek move.
She’d bought Littlegate Farm, and she’d done it without properly vetting the situation—something she never ever did. She’d managed to squish the doubts and misgivings that had arisen in the days following her rash decision instead of mulling them over to see if they were valid. Of course they were.
She’d impulse-bought a farm to teach a lesson to the guy who’d lied to her and manipulated her. A guy who’d told his brother that he’d have no trouble bringing her around to his way of thinking because she always gave in to him eventually. That was one thing he liked about her. She was compliant.
Kat’s jaw muscles tightened at the memory, and she forced herself to relax, to take a long deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a technique she’d learned during childhood.
She’d thought she and Derek were building a life together, but he’d celebrated the fact that he could manipulate her into doing what he wanted. The kicker was that she had given in to Derek’s wishes too often in a misguided effort to be a good partner, rarely rocking the boat when differences arose. Now she knew he’d taken advantage of her and candidly discussed it with his brother. She felt stupid and angry and utterly determined to never let anything like that happen again.
She hadn’t a clue Derek was playing her until her Aunt Margo offered her first refusal on Littlegate Farm before it went on the market. Buying had seemed like a no-brainer, but Derek had immediately tried to dissuade her. At the time, she’d been perplexed. She had the funds to make the down payment and plans to lease the place, thus making it self-supporting.
After overhearing Derek’s phone call to his brother, Dane, she’d pieced things together. Dane was a real estate hotshot in Larkspur, and he wanted the property. Kat didn’t know if he wanted it for himself or to sell for the commission, but it didn’t matter. She loved Littlegate Farm, and she wasn’t going to let it slip away from her.
Her first instinct after overhearing the conversation was to walk into the room where her supposed beau was plotting on the phone with his brother and have it out with him. Instead, she’d let herself out of the house as quietly as she’d come in and set about buying Littlegate Farm.
For two days, Derek had worked on her, and for two days, she’d silently seethed over his duplicity and her poor judgment. She’d waited for the money to transfer and her aunt to countersign the agreement, and the way Derek placated, charmed and gently coerced had taken on a whole new look. He was a master of making her think his concern was centered on her when he only cared about himself.
Why hadn’t she seen this earlier?
Because she was used to honest people who said what they meant? Or because she lacked insight? The evidence was before her. She’d totally misread Derek. It didn’t help that even though they’d never said anything, she sensed that her best friends, Whitney Fox and Maddie Kincaid, had never fully embraced Derek. She’d told herself they didn’t know him, but she’d come to find out that was her issue.
In the end, after she’d told him she’d purchased the farm, she’d had the satisfaction of telling him they were done. He’d shown no regret and told her she had no idea what she was getting into. That she would regret her headstrong behavior. That things could happen that she wasn’t in a position to handle.
Kat went still at the thought and then craned her neck to study Troy standing at the stove with his daughter on his shoulder. Could it be?
No.
Not Derek’s style. Definitely more of an Arlie move, and Kat had a feeling that after the sting wore off, the Cashman brothers wouldn’t bother her. She hoped so anyway. Derek wasn’t used to being shut down or found out, and she’d done just that. Would he engage in petty revenge?
If he does, you’ll deal with it. Right now, you have a situation.
As if on cue, Troy stepped into the living room, cradling his daughter in one arm as he fed her. She patted the bottle as she drank. He smiled down at her and then indicated the packing boxes along one wall of the living room with a lift of his chin. “You haven’t been here long.”
“Nope. Our positions could have easily been reversed.” She could only imagine how she would have reacted if she’d found Troy and his baby in residence when she’d arrived.
A rustling sounded overhead, and they both glanced up, Troy frowning.
“I have an uninvited roommate,” Kat said. The house had lain empty for the better part of a year, allowing the local critters to take advantage. Thankfully, the mice hadn’t yet found their way in through the many caulked cracks, but the attic was another matter.
“Appears that way.” Troy slowly paced as his daughter ate. “I guess,” he said slowly, resignedly, “if something appears to be too perfect, it’s wise to consider the possibility that it might be.”
“Do you have a job here?”
“I will.” He kept his eyes on his daughter, who stared back at him over the bottle. “My previous job, the one where I met Arlie, came to an unexpected end. The owners got a buyout offer and took it. Thanks to their recommendation, I got a job here with L&S Sand and Gravel, but it doesn’t start until September, when one of their drivers retires.”
“And Arlie offered this place?”
“Like I said. Perfect. I was going to spend the summer shoeing horses, then go to work full time for the gravel operation after Labor Day.”
“You’re a farrier?”
“I am. Farrier, truck driver.”
He sounded a lot like her brothers and their friends—guys who worked with their hands and took pride in what they did.
“You?” he asked politely before readjusting the bottle so that Livia could get the last little bit.
“Paper pusher.”
Nothing to be ashamed of, but her secure, safe job with excellent benefits and a 401(k) was not exactly colorful...and it was a touch boring. Maybe too boring in and of itself. She’d suspected for some time that she’d made a mistake in her career choice; that all of her planning and careful reasoning, done in the name of being the responsible Farley child, had led her down the wrong path.
She’d told herself it was normal to feel restless, and that all she needed was a hobby. But hobbies didn’t help, and the feeling of restlessness grew, making her suspect that she was more like her wild brothers than she’d once believed. Maybe the occasional explosion was a good thing.
Kat’s phone rang, making her jump. She checked the screen and then stifled a groan. “My brother,” she said before answering.
Troy took the hint and carried the baby into the kitchen.
“Mom called. I’ll be right over,” James said without bothering with a hello. Loud country music played in the background, telling Kat that her brother probably wasn’t at home.
“No, you will not.” It was close to eleven. “I’m fine. He just fed his baby, and all is well.”
“Did Mom get the name right? Troy Mackay?”
“Yes.”
“Medium-size guy, dark hair?”
“Do you know him?”
“He’s areally decent bronc rider. Or he was. He’s pretty popular with the ladies.”
“Right now, I think he’s only concerned about one lady. His little girl, who’s about to be put down for the night.”
Did kids her age sleep through the night?
She’d undoubtedly find out in short order. The last thing Kat needed was for James to wake everyone up if they did manage to go to sleep.
“Thanks for the offer. You can stop by for breakfast.”
From the kitchen, she heard Troy emptying the pan of water into the sink.
“I think—”
“Please do not come by and wake up this baby,” Kat said. “None of us will thank you. Mom and Dad know the situation, and so do you. My bases are covered.”
For being people who laughed at fate, her family seemed ridiculously protective of her, as if she couldn’t handle anything out of the norm.
Well, she could. She had a vagabond cowboy and a baby in her kitchen, and she was handling the situation just fine, thank you very much.
LIVIA SIGHED IN her sleep, shifted positions and then settled again, and Troy’s taut muscles relaxed an iota.
Having a child changes everything.
Tiff had said that before their marriage had gone rocky, which had been almost immediately, calling him baby crazy for simply having suggested that they start a family after he retired from rodeo. When the sad truth about their union became apparent, he’d dropped the idea, and within a year, he knew that his impulsive marriage was not going to last. He’d loved Tiff, and Tiff loved herself, and that was that.
When she’d discovered she was pregnant after their divorce, she’d told him. She’d carried Livia to term with the understanding that for all intents and purposes, she was a surrogate. Tiff did not have a maternal bone in her body. She’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl and handed her over to a terrified Troy before heading across the country to start what she called her new life. He hadn’t heard a word from her since, nor did he expect to.
It was him and Livia against the world. And the world had just taken a swing at them. Thank you, Arlie Stokes. Troy fought back a surge of anger. Hating on Arlie wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
Tough. He was going to hate on the guy anyway. Anger felt good. Cathartic.
Justified.
He pulled in a deep breath, frowning through the darkness at the rustling sounds overhead. Too big for mice. Possibly a raccoon. He took hold of the leg of the bassinet and pulled it closer to his bedroll.
Tomorrow, he would hunt down Arlie and demand his money back. Somehow. Montana was a big state, and Arlie had a truck he contracted out. Who knew if he was even still in the state?
Troy scowled at the ceiling. The odds of finding Arlie were slim. The chance of getting more than a promise to pay Troy back were probably even slimmer. Troy had witnessed firsthand Arlie’s lack of care with his finances. If a shiny truck accessory caught his eye, the man bought it. Round of drinks? On him.
Getting his money back was going to be a process, and he didn’t have enough of the stuff to search for the man who’d cheated him.
He muttered a curse at the ceiling.
If it wasn’t for Livia, he’d be after Arlie in a heartbeat. Until his daughter had come into his life, he’d had no qualms about stepping into the unknown.
Those days were gone for the next eighteen years. He was a dad, and he had a daughter to care for, which meant that he needed to find a place to live and a job—any job—plus a sitter he trusted while he worked at that job, all in a community where he knew no one, except for the woman who’d taken pity on him.
A woman related to the man who’d cheated him.
Troy brushed the thought aside. Should he call his dad? His stomach knotted at the idea. Not only would he have to crawl on his belly, but odds were good that his dad would also take delight in hitting the Deny button, as he had when Troy had made a stab at amends five years after the fight that had ended their relationship.
That had stung, and Troy’s pride wasn’t up for taking another hit.
He would try again if things got too hairy, for Livia’s sake—and it would only be for her sake. Maybe the parent gene and the grandparent gene were not connected...except that when he’d texted his dad the news of Livia’s birth, all he’d gotten back was a terse “Congratulations” and not one word since.
His parents were no more interested in grandparenting than they’d been in parenting.
He rolled over onto his side, wincing a little. Years of bronc riding had made it tougher to sleep on a hard floor than in the past, and he needed to sleep. If Livia made it through the night, she’d be up early, hungry and wet. And he needed to have a clear head if he was going to figure a way out of this mess.
His mind strayed to the woman who’d been unwittingly involved in her cousin’s scheme. Kat. He hadn’t caught her last name because his brain had been busy scrambling for a solution to his immediate problem. But he had noted the somewhat wild state of her long curly brown hair and the direct way her aqua eyes met his.
Aqua.
Not a word he normally used, but it was the word for those eyes.
He tucked a hand under his head, shifting mental focus. What was his next move?
A part of him longed for the days when not knowing his next move wouldn’t have interfered with his sleep or his peace of mind. The days when he’d had faith that he’d come up with something.
But now he had a little girl, and he owed her—and himself, really—a secure life. He’d promised her that the first time he’d held her and stared down into her amazing little face.
Six months in, and he was going down in flames.
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