Rocky Mountain Brides: Raising the Rancher's Family

Most likely that wasn’t going to happen. Not many people wanted to adopt an eight-year-old boy. “That’ll be a problem for the future. But if Corey is to live here for the time being, we need to play the happy couple…for the social worker.”

“We didn’t tell Reed we were a…couple.”

Holt shrugged, enjoying her discomfort. “I’m not sure what we need, but when Social Services shows up we should at least act like we know each other.”

“I guess you’re right.” She turned those velvet-brown eyes on him. “So, give me a rundown on yourself in twenty-five words or less.”

That made him smile. She made him smile. “So, don’t you want to know more?” He cocked an eyebrow. “What if I have a sordid past?”

“What if I do?” she returned. “I mean, I’ve been out of the country for the past three years.”

His eyes roamed over her petite frame that he’d come to appreciate more and more. Leah Keenan looked like the all-American girl. Just the type you took home to the family—the type you married. Definitely not his type.

“Were you ever in prison? Have you taken illegal drugs? Robbed a bank?”

“Of course not. You can contact the magazine I work for in New York. They’ll vouch for me.”

He fought to hold back a grin. “I was kidding. You’ve got small-town girl written all over your face”

“Unlike the city slicker from New York.”

Holt had no doubt that she’d heard about his childhood when he’d lived here. “You already know John Rawlins was my father. When my parents divorced, my mother took me back to her family. I stayed there until college, and afterward I worked as a financial adviser for a Wall Street firm. I’m not married, not engaged, there isn’t even anyone in my life…at the moment.”

She drew a breath. “I lived here in Destiny since I was four months old. Since the day my mother brought her three daughters to the Keenan Inn and left us.”

“Whoa …” He frowned. “How did that happen? How could she …?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure how she could have done it. According to my adoptive mother, our biological mother didn’t have a choice. Claire and Tim Keenan adopted us as soon as legally possible. So you see that was the reason I couldn’t leave Corey to fend for himself.”

Holt was surprised by her story, but Leah lived in a fantasy world. “There may not be a damn thing we can do to help Corey.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS nerve-racking for Leah.

They were all gathered around the kitchen table as the social worker from Durango, Lillian Gerard, wrote in her notebook. She’d talked with Corey earlier, getting his personal account of his life in the last foster home.

“I’m not going back,” Corey told her. “You can’t make me.”

The middle-aged woman stopped what she was doing and turned her attention to the boy. “We’re not going to make you go back, Corey. We’ve discovered things about the…situation that make the house you were in unsuitable. The question now is, finding you another place to live.”

“I want to stay here.”

Mrs. Gerard looked at Holt. “That’s what Mr. Rawlins and I have to discuss.”

Holt straightened in his chair. “Corey, why don’t you take Lulu an apple,” he said.

Leah knew the boy loved to feed the mare. But he hesitated before he got up, grabbed the fruit from the bowl on the counter and headed out the door.

“Okay, Mrs. Gerard, let’s cut to the chase,” Holt began. “Do you have a home for Corey?”

She sighed. “Honestly, no. There’s nothing available at the moment. He’ll have to go into a group home.”

“No, he can’t,” Leah said angrily. “He’s only eight years old, and in the last two years, he’s been in four homes. He’s run away from every one of them.”

The social worker looked sympathetic. “I know, but there just aren’t enough good foster homes available.”

“Isn’t there’s a relative who can take him?” Leah inquired, hoping they’d searched for someone who would care. She turned to Holt for support, but he sat stone-faced.

Mrs. Gerard looked over the file once again. “There is a distant cousin but she’s in poor health. And since Corey’s been labeled hard to handle, the available foster parents passed on him.”

“Well, look how he’s had to live,” Leah said defensively.

“There’s another option,” Mrs. Gerard said. “He could stay here…temporarily.”

Holt raised an eyebrow. “I qualify as a foster parent?”

“Since your home meets all the requirements, I can give you emergency status, thanks to Sheriff Larkin’s recommendation of you and Miss Keenan…and I know Leah’s mother.” She smiled. “And of course, we had to do background checks on you both. But most importantly, I’ve seen how Corey is when he’s around you.” She sighed. “So the question is, Mr. Rawlins, are you willing to keep the child here in your home?”

This time Holt’s gaze connected with Leah’s. Even though he’d been gruff to her, he’d been fair to the boy. He would be the perfect guardian for Corey.

“I’m a bachelor, Mrs. Gerard, I’m not sure I know how to parent….”

“None of us know how to be a parent in the beginning, Mr. Rawlins. We more or less learn as we go. I’ve seen you interact with the boy. He respects you. That’s a big step.”

Holt turned to Leah. “Are you going to hang around?”

She found she’d been holding her breath. “If you need me to, I’ll be here.” Was she crazy? How could she cohabit with this man?

“All right, Mrs. Gerard, I’m willing to keep Corey here…until a suitable home is found for him.”

Over the next twenty minutes Holt filled out paperwork and they finally said goodbye to the social worker and watched her drive away.

Holt looked at Leah. “What have you gotten me into?”

“Me? I was willing to take Corey to my parents’ home. You stepped in and said he could stay here with you.”

His mouth quirked. “Well, you’re in this with me.” He stepped closer. “So pack your bags, darlin’, because you’re moving in. Looks like we’re going to be one big happy family.”

Later that afternoon, Holt adjusted his hat as he walked to the barn. He’d been crazy to let Leah talk him into this. But he’d let her talk him into a lot of things. The fact of the matter was, he’d let her get to him. New York had been full of beautiful, sophisticated women who knew the score. He’d been able to pick and choose and pretty much call the shots. But the one time he’d tried to have a long-term relationship, he’d failed miserably.

Now, it seemed the tables had been turned. Sassy Leah Keenan was calling the shots and suddenly he was responsible for an eight-year-old boy.

How could he give guidance to a child when he’d lacked positive male influences in his own life? Hell, his own father hadn’t been in his life for years. Even his maternal grandfather hadn’t been attentive to him as a child, or as an adult. His chest tightened as he recalled the familiar rejection. No matter what he’d achieved in sports, academics, in his career, Holt never could live up to his grandfather, Mackenzie Pershing’s, expectations. And he’d never been given the chance to live up to John Rawlins’s.

Holt entered the barn and found Zach cleaning a stall.

“So how did it go?” the old man asked.