Daddy's Home

Jasmine stepped back, surprised, then broke into a tired laugh, serving as a valve for the release of her anger. Gram was right, of course.

She hugged her grandmother as hard as the older woman’s frail bones would allow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her heart contrite. “I’m just confused. I’m sure I’ll be all right after I pray about it.” The words slipped out of her mouth from years of training, and she just wanted to bite her tongue. Pray about it, indeed.

Gram nodded, not appearing to notice the grimace Jasmine made. “I’ll pray, too. It’s the best we can do. The first thing, and the best. It’ll all work out. In God’s way, and in God’s timing. We just have to look to Him and trust that He knows what’s best.”

Well, on that point, anyway, Jasmine couldn’t agree more. God, if there was one, must certainly have something spectacular planned, or else He had a very peculiar sense of humor. If only she knew what He had in mind—and what role she was to play.

Christopher pulled a hard right off the gravel mountain road and drove into the brush, not caring that the pine trees were probably scratching the truck’s exterior. When he was in far enough that he couldn’t see the road, he slammed the gear into Park and shut down the engine.

This wasn’t the way he’d meant it to be. He thumped a closed fist against the steering wheel. He hadn’t meant to alienate Jasmine with the first words out of his mouth. What a big lug he was. Talk first, stick his big, dirty boots in his mouth afterward. He could certainly add his first encounter with her in a year to his ever-growing list of failures.

This one, however, he had to take full credit for. Much of what happened to him wasn’t in his control, a part of God’s will he couldn’t understand. But this was completely his own doing, and he’d blown it big time. Not exactly a surprise, with his track record.

He’d been so certain he was meant to come back to Westcliffe. What else could he do? He loved Jasmine. He always had. To think of living without her—and Sammy—was unbearable.

But if his first encounter with her was anything to go by, he had a long way to travel to get back in her good graces. Her closed attitude left him shaken and unsure of himself. She didn’t even try to hide how much she loathed seeing him again.

He lifted his hat and raked his fingers through the short ends of his hair. Frustration seethed through every nerve ending until his whole body tingled.

All he wanted to do was see Sammy, not run off with the boy like some criminal, though that’s how he’d been treated. And Sammy had been in that bungalow. He’d heard the baby’s cry and the soothing sounds of Jasmine’s grandmother coming from the other room. What kind of a fool did she think he was?

The point of it—and that’s what hurt—was that Jazz didn’t want him to see the baby.

He understood her hesitance. He’d done a lot of things that needed explaining. But in the meantime, he’d hoped their years together would count for something.

He wasn’t foolish enough to expect that he would be able to knock on her door and resume their relationship, where it had broken off before she’d gone off to med school, but couldn’t she at least listen to him?

“Ha!” he said aloud, the sound echoing in the small cab of his truck. She hadn’t listened to him then, and she wouldn’t listen now.

Especially now. She wouldn’t trust him any more than any other of Westcliffe’s residents did. Far less, even, for she had more reasons to doubt him than the small town that virtually shunned his existence now that he was back.

The neighbors he could live without. Jasmine, he couldn’t.

He’d hurt the woman he loved most in the world, and the knowledge sat like lead in his stomach. It was a burden he’d been carrying since the day she’d turned away from him and walked right out of his life. The day the world discovered he would soon be a father.

Jasmine thought he’d betrayed her, and mincing words didn’t change anything. Pain seared through his chest.

He wasn’t denying his actions, no matter how questionable the whole thing was in his mind. What else could he have done, under the circumstances? He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought Jasmine would understand, that she’d want him to take the actions he’d decided on for Jenny’s sake.

But she wouldn’t even listen. What she’d learned, she hadn’t learned from him, and he would regret that for the rest of his life. He should have made the trip to Denver as soon as he found out about Jenny. But there was so much to do, and not much time in which to do it.

He’d been so wrapped up in the tailspin his life had taken that he’d put it off, thinking he’d approach Jasmine when the ruckus had died down. After he’d taken care of the necessities, and before she’d heard the truth from someone else.

She still didn’t know the truth. He’d hoped to tell her today.

He’d even hoped she’d forgive him. It was part of what drove him back to town—to ask her forgiveness for his part in the tragedy that had become their lives, and to ask for a second chance.

It was obviously not going to happen that way. He clamped his teeth together until he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. What he wanted didn’t matter. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

He had another responsibility—Sammy, the baby he’d never seen. He wasn’t going to let that boy down. And if that meant postponing the inevitable confrontation with Jasmine on personal issues, so be it.

His resolution did, however, present a unique set of circumstances, since he had to go through Jasmine to get to Sammy. Emotional issues aside, Jasmine was a formidable woman. If she decided to make things rough for him, there was no doubt in his mind she would succeed.

Which meant he had to convince her otherwise. Make her see reason. They needed to put the past aside, sit down together and discuss the issues like the adults they were.

This wasn’t some high school spat they could just ignore and expect to go away. They were dealing with the welfare of a child. For all intents and purposes, his child.

His throat tightened. He had actually been relieved to hear Jasmine had been appointed Sammy’s legal guardian, though he would never tell her so. He couldn’t think of a better mother for the boy. He could depend on her to take care of Sammy as if he were her own.

And he could leave.

He recognized that the moment he’d seen the determination on Jasmine’s face. He could turn around, walk right out of Westcliffe, and never look back, knowing Sammy was in capable hands. Loving hands.

And he would be doing no less than what everyone expected.

Maybe that would be best. How was he to know? He wasn’t ready to be a father. What did he know about babies? He hadn’t planned to be a father for a few years yet, after he and Jasmine had settled down. Blast it anyway, he didn’t even know how to change a diaper.

What kind of hole had he dug for himself? And all because he was trying to do the right thing.

He blew out a breath and started the engine, gunning it into Reverse and making the wheels spin as he pulled back onto the dirt road. He shifted into gear and put the pedal to the metal.

Heading back toward town.

He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t go without Sammy, even knowing he was in Jasmine’s capable hands. And though he knew he would cause a lot more pain before he could start mending hurts, it had to be done.

He had to go back. He needed Sammy in his life.

Sammy—and Jasmine.

Chapter Three (#ulink_72e809a3-8600-5183-87d5-135f74f656a9)

Three days later, Jasmine stared over the rim of her coffee cup at the soft-spoken cowboy across from her. The term cowboy used loosely, she thought wryly. Christopher had been born and raised in this mountain town, but he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. Ranching wasn’t in his blood.

He looked the part, though, with his form-fitting western jeans, snap-down western shirt and a steel gray cowboy hat. Of course, he’d taken off the hat when he’d entered the café, exposing his thatch of windblown brown hair.

Another cowboy trait.

Her mind was being perversely obtuse this afternoon, she thought. How she could find anything humorous to laugh about in her present state of mind was beyond her comprehension. It was as if her subconscious were seeking to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

The determined gleam in Christopher’s eyes and the hard set of his jaw gave him away. Why else would he have asked her to meet him in a small café in Wetmore, a half hour’s drive from their home town and well out of the public eye?

She’d been surprised when he’d called yesterday and asked to meet her, but now she was as prepared as she’d ever be for whatever he would throw at her, though she still couldn’t come up with a single acceptable reason for a man to abandon his wife and unborn child. And then return to claim his son after Jenny was dead. If he didn’t want the boy before…

The familiar swell of anger rushed through her, but she tamped it down. She would listen. She owed him that much, whatever sort of torn and twisted man he’d become. He claimed he wanted Sammy, and today he would attempt to explain why.

Not that his words would make any difference. She already knew what her answer would be, despite anything he told her.

He couldn’t have the baby. Not in a billion, trillion years.