Daddy by Surprise (9 page)

Kat closed her eyes and looked skyward. “Why would I be on the pill, Lib? I have no social life. I have no time for a social life.”

Libby cleared her throat. Kat knew what was coming next. “When you go to the doctor to get checked, ask him for a morning-after pill. There’s a small window of opportunity. I can’t remember how long. Are you home?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for…Oh, there he is.”

“Mad Jack?”

Kat snorted. “No. The allergic dentist from Denver.”

“Well, whatever you do, don’t panic and marry the guy. I’ll go online and see what I can find out about your options. We’ll figure this out, Kat.”

“Thanks, Lib. I’m feeling a lot less homicidal—and/or suicidal—than I was earlier. I’ll call you when I get home.”

She closed the phone and stood. Jack waited beside the bike, helmets in hand. She took hers from him, but didn’t put it on. “Maybe we should have breakfast. And talk.”

T
HE COFFEE SHOP
was packed. Jack’s bike was just one of a dozen or more parked in a glittery array of chrome and leather on the street. Kat watched him exchange a few polite nods with the other newcomers. He didn’t stick out as a R.U.B. quite as much as she’d imagined he would.

Had something changed? Or was it her? Making love with a person probably had that effect. She’d only been with two other men in her life. And she’d only gone to bed with them after the usual rites of courtship, which had involved wine and beer, respectively. Plus, she’d been distracted by their swoo.

She’d been so sure that Jack’s swoo was manageable. And he’d been dead to the world last night when she’d checked to see if he was still breathing. But something had gone wrong. And she honestly didn’t know what to say to him.

“Got a booth in the corner, hon,” the waitress who was seating people told her. “Good timing.”

“The food must be great here,” Jack said, taking a plastic menu from a rack on the counter. “Judging by all the business.”

“Our cook believes in serving big portions. Soaks up a lot of the mornin’ after,” she replied wryly as Kat and Jack trailed behind her. “You both look like you could use a splash of this.” She filled two thick white mugs from the steaming carafe in her hand without waiting for a confirmation, then turned to leave. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Kat slid into the side of the booth facing the back of the restaurant. She’d worked the Days of ’76 and the bike rally for enough years that people tended to recognize her. Not that she was a celebrity, like Cooper, but she didn’t feel like putting on a fake smile if someone greeted her. Jack took the opposite side, although it wasn’t as easy for him to slide in, thanks to the straps on his leather chaps.

He pulled one of the cups closer and ripped open two packets of sugar. He glanced at the menu as he stirred his coffee. “I’m going for the number four, I think. How ’bout you?”

I’ll take a morning-after pill, please.

Yes. That was definitely the smart thing to do. Just to be safe.

“English muffin. Extra crisp.”

He looked at her. “That’s it? I’m buying.”

“It’s not about money.” Although it was
always
about money. Most months she barely scraped by. Student loans, grants, a couple of small scholarships, an occasional check from her father when he sold a buffalo or two. The child-support payments her ex-husbands made barely covered food and clothing for her two growing boys. Any sacrifices that were required to make ends meet came on her end. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh. I understand. You’re upset. My sister lost thirty pounds during her divorce. She said she just couldn’t eat.”

Kat smiled. “I was the opposite. I gained weight both times. Food was comfort.”

“Then you must have been a toothpick before you got married, because you’re perfect now.”

She would have corrected him—she was anything but perfect—or explained about the stress of being a single mom with two rambunctious boys. But their waitress returned to take their order.

Kat was reluctantly impressed that Jack got her request right and added two large orange juices. A luxury at her house.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened now or after breakfast?”

Never.
“Now, I guess,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.

He reached around to his back pocket and produced a handsome leather billfold. Kat could see several credit-card logos that she recognized. The cards were either gold or platinum. There was cash, too. A lot more than she ever carried. But she knew he wasn’t trying to impress her because he quickly tucked it away after he found what he was looking for. “Here’s my business card,” he said, sliding it across the table. “I have a service that knows how to reach me twenty-four/seven.”

She studied the high-end, professional design. Treadwell and Associates. “How many associates?” she asked.

“Eight. Wait. Seven. I’m the eighth. We provide a full gamut of dental options for the whole family, from children’s dentistry and orthodontia to an oral surgeon and adult cosmetic dentistry. That’s my area.”

“You don’t work on kids.”

“No.”

He said the word with such finality she had to ask, “Why?”

“My father was a family dentist. Worked alone for thirty years. Had a thriving practice. Loved helping people so much that he often opened the office on weekends to work on kids who couldn’t afford to pay for dental services.”

Something in his tone reminded her of the dead look in Mad Jack’s eyes when he told her why he gave up on people. “One day, one of his charity kids accused my dad of touching him inappropriately. The politically correct way of saying my dad was a pedophile.”

“Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Nothing good. Dad’s insurance company talked him into settling on the condition the complaint was dropped. That’s not the same as being vindicated in court. Rumors spread. Dad’s business fell off. He retired early. And died too young.”

Kat could hear his pain. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to work on kids. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Dad was a great guy. He loved kids. He didn’t do what that child said he did. The boy later recanted. Claimed his stepfather coached him and his mother—a drug addict at the time—made him say what he did.”

“How horrible for your family.”

Jack shrugged. “I still followed in his footsteps. I simply specialized in an area that doesn’t require me to deal with children. I’m not good with them. Ask your son.”

Kat already knew Tag’s opinion of Jack, but she kept it to herself. “I think I heard you say your mother lived near you. Did she remarry after your father passed?”

She pictured her own mother. Now on husband number five. Or was it six?

He fiddled with the empty sugar wrapper. “No. She had her career to occupy her. Banking. She was a vice president of one of our local banks. She just retired.”

Kat slipped his card into her hip pocket. She already had his cell-phone number programmed on her phone at home. Not that there would be any reason to contact him. Not if she did the smart thing.

She realized he’d asked something that she’d missed. “Sorry. What?”

“Since we’re strolling down memory lane, I wondered about your childhood. Happy? Messed up? Normal?”

“Normal?”

His eyebrow arched in a way that told her she’d revealed more with one word than she’d intended. “I have no idea what that is. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve fighting for custody of a kid you then ignore because of all the other drama in your life.”

“Your parents are divorced, I take it.”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. Here’s the short version. My mom is a needy person who grasped at any hint of security. My dad is a rancher who likes people to think he’s more successful than he is. Mom saw the outward trappings and thought she had it made. Only, by the time I was born she realized she’d made a terrible mistake. Dad abuses alcohol and when you’re in the middle of nowhere with two kids from a previous marriage and a tiny baby and a crazy man who tells you you’re dirt, your options are limited. She took his pride and joy—a ridiculous boat of a car that my half brother called the pimpmobile—when she left. Dad couldn’t very well sic his attorneys on her for custody of the car, so he went after me. They battled for years.”

“He must have wanted you in his life.”

“He wanted to win. He has this Old West thing about never giving up a square inch of land or a single concession when negotiating with the enemy. He tells everyone my mother made him spend my college fund on lawyer fees.”

He cocked his head. “Do you have a relationship with him now?”

“Sorta. I lived with him when I was in high school. Mom was married to a psycho preacher at the time and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Dad pretty much ignored me the whole time, but that was okay because I had my buffalo to keep me occupied.”

His cup wobbled as he set it down. “Buffalo?”

“I talked Dad into buying a few head of bison when I was a sophomore. He kept them even after I moved out and got married. The boys and I visit the ranch to check on them every couple of weeks.”

“Where’s this?”

“Near Belle Fourche. Northern Hills. Lately, Dad’s gotten involved in marketing the meat for sale. His half of the herd, not mine. But he keeps my freezer filled, and that’s come in pretty handy at times.”

She was saved from spilling any more of her guts by the arrival of their food. As promised, Jack’s platter-size plate was heaped with three eggs, hash-brown potatoes and a slab of ham half an inch thick.

Her muffin looked silly by comparison.

Their waitress slapped down a bottle of ketchup, a little container of hot sauce and a plastic tub filled with various flavors of jelly without being asked. “Enjoy,” she said. “Holler if you need more juice.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Jack had very nice manners, she noticed. He chewed with his mouth closed. Something she was constantly harping on with Tag. Of course, part of his problem was that eye tooth, which was coming in sideways.

“So, is it safe to say you and your dad aren’t close?” Jack asked after washing down a bite with a gulp of juice.

She nibbled on her muffin but couldn’t work up an appetite. “I wanted us to be when I was a little girl. Now we mostly talk about the herd when we see each other. I tried living with him another time, too. When Tag was a baby and Pete and I first broke up. It didn’t last long. Dad wanted a live-in maid, and I wanted a father who gave a damn.”

“What happened?”

She sighed. “I convinced Pete that my milk was going to dry up and he’d have to pay for formula if he didn’t help me rent an apartment in town. I was just getting back on my feet when I met ex number two.” She snickered softly. “They say mistakes aren’t mistakes if you learn from them, right? I learned that nursing is not a surefire form of contraception.”

He laughed. “That’s wisdom for you—arriving too late to be of any help when you need it most. So where’s your mom live?”

“Spearfish. Her last husband moved out a week after she was diagnosed with throat cancer. Poor Mom. She always believed she was getting a guy to take care of her, but it never worked out that way. Fortunately her sister, my aunt Roberta, was available to move in. Her doctors claim to have the cancer in remission, but now Mom’s dealing with depression. I think she’s worried that no man is ever going to love her again.”

She shook her head. “This is really unpleasant conversation for breakfast. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t apologize. I asked.”

“So what about you? Are you close to your mom?”

“More so when I was engaged to a woman she thought was perfect for me. Actually, I think Mom took our breakup harder than either Jaydene or I did.”

His eyes glinted with a roguish look that reminded her of the man in her dream. Her heartbeat sped up, despite her attempt to ignore the little thrill that shot through her body.

Okay. So she wished Jack was her dream lover in real life. But he wasn’t. And she wasn’t a virginal schoolmarm, either.
Forget about Mad Jack.

“What was that?” he asked.

Had she muttered that out loud? Oh, dear. She really was losing it. “Nothing. I guess I should be grateful my parents are utterly self-absorbed. I don’t take advice that well. My mother used to call me ‘sweetly stubborn.’”

Jack refilled both their cups from the insulated carafe their waitress had left behind, then he eased back in the booth. His tattoos were still a little tender, but thankfully the itching had subsided.

He watched her nibble on a piece of muffin she’d topped with grape jelly. He found the gesture childlike. And a fist—solid and unfamiliar—wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He might have feared that the chicken-fried steak from a few nights earlier had already clogged his arteries, but his subconscious mind told him that wasn’t the case. He liked this woman. A lot. Even if she wasn’t her dream alter ego. Katherine. Who was much better suited to him. After all, the schoolmarm’s children went home to their own families each night. Kat’s didn’t.

“Are you done?” she asked, consulting her watch. “I should be going.”

“In case your ex-husband brings your son home early.”

“Partly. And by the way, I don’t go out of my way to accommodate Pete. I do it for Tag. Because he has enough drama in his life from his stepmom and half siblings without watching his parents’ power struggles.”

That made sense. In a way. And normally he would let the statement go unchallenged. But instead, he asked, “Aren’t you afraid that you might be sending the wrong message?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, you’re a strong woman, and catering to your ex-husband’s whims might make your son think that’s what women do.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Armchair parenting again.”

“Huh?”

“Call me when you’re a father and we’ll ta—” She stopped abruptly and didn’t finish the sentence.

He wanted to ask why, but suddenly he understood. They’d had unprotected sex. She could be pregnant. With his child. The food he’d devoured shifted uncomfortably in his belly.

“You’re not…You don’t think…”

Her cheeks turned rosy pink and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, making a show of folding her paper napkin. “But my friend reminded me that there’s a pill I can take that wasn’t readily available when I got pregnant with my sons.”

He’d heard of it. “I thought it was only prescribed in Europe.”

She shook her head. “Apparently not.”

Jack picked up the bill their waitress had deposited on the table a few minutes earlier and stood. His mind was jumping all over the place and he really couldn’t think.

Did he approve of her plan? Sure. Of course. He must. Because the alternative was so not in the realm of possibility it didn’t even bear scrutiny. Right?

Once they were outside and preparing to get aboard his bike, he asked, “Just out of curiosity, would you have used that pill if it had been available when you became pregnant with your sons?”

Her frown intensified. “That’s not a fair question. At the time I might have welcomed the option, but I can’t imagine my life without my boys. Tag and Jordie are the best thing that ever happened to me.”