The Cowboy's Return

He glanced at the street, then back at her, almost as if he was resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting past her doorway. “That’s where you’re wrong. I think we have a lot to talk about. If you want to have this conversation out here, well, I guess we can.”

She glared at him for forcing the issue, but stepped aside, knowing she might as well get this over with. “You’ve got five minutes, Mr. Daniels.”

He lifted an eyebrow at that. “Tripp, please.”

She’d always thought that was a strange name to give a child. But it had been his mother’s maiden name. Leona was the last of the Tripps and she wanted the name carried on.

They walked into the living room and Camila quickly moved the baby eyelet quilt in the quilting hoop from the sofa. She’d planned on finishing it tonight. As she turned, she bumped into him. She hadn’t realized he was so close behind her. His body was hard and firm, and his tangy aftershave jolted her senses, reminding her of that night. She jerked away. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t be that close to him and not remember.

Was there a look of sympathy in his eyes? That was the last thing she wanted from Tripp Daniels. He eased onto the sofa and she perched on the edge of a chair and waited. She knew what was coming.

Suddenly the living room seemed small, way too small. He looked out of place on her beige sofa and colorful throw pillows. She had trouble breathing and she didn’t know why, but something about having a Daniels in her home was unnerving.

He placed his hat beside himself and clasped his hands together. “I was surprised to see your daughter the other day.”

Your daughter. No mention of Patrick. Her jaw clenched tight.

“I told you that won’t happen again.” She kept her back straight, her hands folded in her lap.

“Obviously she believes we’ve slighted her.”

“As I said—”

He cut in. “Jilly looks a lot like you.”

Camila stiffened even more. “Yes.”

His gaze locked with hers. “This might be out of line, but I’d like to know if she’s Patrick’s?”

She sprang to her feet. “If you have to ask that question, then I don’t want you in my house. Please leave.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “I’ve been away for a long time and I was surprised to find my parents in such bad shape.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have stayed away so long.”

He inhaled deeply. “If Jilly is Patrick’s, she could be what they need to give them a will to live. I’m asking a yes or no question.”

She bristled even more. “Jilly is not a dose of medicine. She’s a loving young girl and I will not have her hurt. Your parents have not shown the slightest interest in her.”

“I said that badly. I apologize.”

Camila marched to the door. “Mr. Daniels, Jilly is my daughter and no concern of yours or your family.”

He didn’t budge. “I’d like to have a DNA test done.”

She whirled around. “What?”

“Patrick could be the father. I want to know for sure.” His blue eyes turned to the color of steel.

Could be. Could be. Her blood pressure soared.

“Never. Now get out of my house.”

Tripp slowly stood, knowing he’d stepped over the line of good manners, but something about being this close to Camila made him act and do things out of character. When Patrick had brought her out to the ranch, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. People had called her trash, but he’d seen an unbelievably beautiful young woman with dark eyes and hair who moved with a sensuousness he’d never seen before.

Looking at her now, he saw the same thing, but a mature version. The years had been kind to Camila. A clip held her long hair away from the clean lines of her face and her olive skin was touchable perfection. In jeans and a T-shirt, her body was more riveting than a starlet in a skimpy three-thousand-dollar gown. But the eyes were always what got him—dark as the night, as deep as the ocean and as mysterious as the Marfa lights, yet there was a hidden pain in them that she couldn’t disguise.

Thirteen years and she still made his heart race, and his body… He cleared his mind, searching for the right words to apologize again.

Jilly walked into the room. “Mama…” Her voice trailed away when she saw him. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hi, Jilly.”

Jilly glanced at her mother then back at Tripp. “Hi.”

“Mr. Daniels was just leaving,” Camila said.

Tripp turned back to the sofa and retrieved his hat. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t frighten you the other day.” The excuse sounded lame to his own ears, but he found he couldn’t say anything that would hurt this young girl. He’d have to sort this out with Camila, but at the moment, her dark eyes were about to sear him into a pile of ashes.

Jilly reached down and picked up her dog, who was making soft noises at her feet. “No. I’m fine.”

Tripp nodded. “Good.”

He headed for the door.

“Mr. Daniels?” Jilly asked.

He looked back. “Yes.”

“Are Mr. and Mrs. Daniels okay?”

Tripp was taken aback for a second. “Their health’s not very good but they’re okay.”

“Do they need anything?”

This time he didn’t know what to say. He’d never met anyone like Jilly before, except… For a moment he was shaken by the thought.

“Because I run errands for a lot of people,” Jilly informed him. “And if they need anything, I can pedal it out there. It doesn’t take long.”

Don’t do this, Jilly. Baby, don’t do this. Camila’s heart broke at the entreaty in her daughter’s voice. Jilly wanted to help the Danielses. It was very evident Jilly wanted to know her father’s family and Camila had to let it happen. But she would fiercely guard her daughter’s feelings.

“I’ll remember that,” Tripp said and placed his hat on his head. At the door, he spoke to Camila. “I’m sorry if my visit has disturbed you. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Goodbye.” She closed the door, unable to deal with anything else right now but her daughter.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Jilly said as Camila walked into the living room.

Camila sat on the sofa, bracing herself to tell Jilly about Patrick. She looked at her daughter. “Never be afraid to talk to me.”