A Dad At Last (6 page)

He refused to get pulled into this. It was safer to remain on the outskirts. She'd come around soon enough and settle down, he promised himself. But the promise wasn't made with confidence. “You can do what you want, Lacy. Your life's your own.”

He said it so cavalierly. She felt her back going up. “But not my son's.”

Connor's eyes narrowed. “No, not
our
son's.” He purposely amended the reference, his eyes on hers. “Chase's life is half mine until he's of legal age. Then it's all his.”

“I see.” Inside, she felt as if she were trembling, whether with anger, anticipation or some other emotion she wasn't certain. She struggled to get it under control. “So I guess this agreement of ours is for a little over seventeen years.” She paused. “It's a long time to sell your soul into slavery.” And even longer to remain so close to a man who didn't love her. She wasn't sure if she was up to it.

Slavery? Where did she get these thoughts? “Lacy, I just said—”

“I know what you said. And I know what you're thinking.” That he would never love her, but that he was confident he had control over her.

That kiss had sealed her fate, and she damned him for it. There was no way she was ever going to love
any other man, even if Connor didn't love her. And for that, she could almost hate him.

Her head began to ache as the complexity of the situation assaulted her.

She saw the uneasy look in his eyes. Maybe he wasn't quite as confident as she thought he was. It helped a little. “Don't worry, I won't go back on our agreement. Chase and I'll move into your place as soon as I talk to Shelby and make my arrangements.”

The sigh that escaped him was one of relief. “All right, I can respect that.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him before returning to the dining room. “You have no choice in the matter, Mr. O'Hara.”

Leaving him to follow or not, Lacy went straight for Chase, who was still sitting in his high chair. Megan was beside the baby, every inch the doting grandmother.

As Megan watched Lacy cross to her, she tried to discern what was on her mind from the young woman's expression. Lacy looked preoccupied. And perhaps a little troubled, as well.

“You know,” Megan told her kindly as Lacy began to undo the straps that held Chase in his chair, “you don't have to go back to the boarding house tonight. Or ever, for that matter.” She'd given it only cursory thought. That was all it took to make up her mind. “You're perfectly welcome to remain here for
as long as you like.” Her eyes smiled at Lacy. “You're family now.”

Lacy wished she could really believe that. “That's very generous of you, Mrs. Maitland.” Lacy sensed that Connor was behind her. “I guess I can see where Connor gets it from—even if he's not aware of it.”

Not quite following, Megan inclined her head. “Gets what from?”

“His generosity of spirit.” She wanted Connor's mother to know the exact circumstances that were involved. The last thing she needed was for the Maitlands to think she was living with Connor as his mistress. “Connor has asked Chase and me to move in with him.”

“Oh?” Megan's eyes shifted to Connor's face.

He didn't have the look about him of a man who'd just asked a woman to marry him. But maybe he hadn't. Lacy had said move in, not marry. Her gaze returned to Lacy, patiently waiting for clarification.

“Yes,” Lacy told her, loving the way Chase snuggled against her. This was worth everything, she thought, even not getting on with her life. “I'm going to be his cook—so he can have decent meals when he's not eating here,” she added with a smile as she looked at Megan.

Megan heard the pain, however subtly veiled, within Lacy's voice. Unsure of what exactly was going on, she promised herself to get to the bottom of
it as soon as she could. For now, she rested a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

That someone was actually concerned about her feelings touched Lacy. She wished with all her heart that Connor had grown up living with this woman instead of Clarise, who'd taught him how to seal himself off from everyone and everything. Maybe if he had grown up here, he would have used his heart for something other than an organ that kept his body functioning and going through the motions of being alive.

“I want,” Lacy told her, offering the brightest smile she could, “whatever's best for Chase, and being close to his father is best.”

Megan nodded, then surprised Lacy by pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I'm going to like you, Lacy. Very, very much.”

For the moment, Lacy was left speechless. And properly appreciative.

“I
T NEEDS WORK
,”
Connor warned Lacy as he opened the front door to the new ranch house two days later. He watched her as she walked in, trying to gauge her thoughts by the expression on her face.

He got nowhere.

The ranch house was new only in the sense that it was new to him. It was probably close to eighty years old, at the very least, and if he had to guess, he would have said that the last repairs or additions had taken place thirty years ago. And that was being charitable.

One sweeping look around revealed that renovations were desperately needed. But the acreage was good and the proximity to his family better. Connor counted himself lucky to have found the ranch on such short notice.

“Doesn't everything?” Lacy countered vaguely, lost in thought.

Holding Chase to her, she looked around slowly. She made her way to the large bay window that faced the direction they'd just come from. The heavy, dust-laden drapes trapped any sunlight, keeping it from entering the room. She located the drapery cord and
tugged at it. The drapes refused to budge. She took a corner of the dirty fabric and pulled hard. A little of the drape gave.

Sunlight struggled to get through windows that were almost opaque.

She'd been in better places, she mused. But she'd also been in worse. And with its high wood-beam ceilings and spacious living room, the place possessed definite possibilities. She always believed in looking positively at the possibilities.

Lacy crossed to the fireplace. The bricks were almost bowed beneath the thick layers of dirt, some crumbling in places. The fireplace, like the rest of the house, had the air of long-standing neglect.

Wrapping her arms around the baby, Lacy debated where best to start reviving the victim. She turned to look at Connor, wondering if it was her imagination or if he was watching her intently. Why? What did he expect her to say?

Lacy wandered over to a leather sofa. It was hard to say what the original color had been. Somewhere between black and tan.

Her mouth curved. She wondered if she would stick to the furniture if she sat down. “Looks like housekeeping wasn't a high priority on the last owner's list.”

He gave her the pertinent information, spitting the words out like an old-fashioned teletype. “Widower. Lived alone after his only son was killed in the Gulf
War. Garrett said he kind of let things slide after that.”
Slide
wasn't the word she would have used, Lacy thought. More like a chicken hawk's spiraling descent. “The man was just waiting for an offer. I gave him a fair price.”

“I'm sure you did.”

Probably more than fair, if she knew Connor. Lacy looked around again. She didn't see anywhere she'd be willing to put Chase down, so she continued holding him as she made her way around the first floor. Almost afraid to venture there, she saved the kitchen for last.

The stove was going to be the first thing to go, she decided the moment she saw the blackened appliance. She had her doubts it even functioned.

It was time to stop being a spectator and dive into the challenge. Lacy turned and almost bumped into Connor. He was standing behind her like a shadow. “I think I've seen enough.”

Placing a protective hand over her son, she made her way out of the dreary room and into the living room. The space looked better to her now. It was all relative, she mused.

Lacy raised her eyes to his. “Remember what I said about housekeeping being extra?”

He'd half expected her to declare that she couldn't live in a place like this. Connor had been prepared to argue the ranch's good points. Her reference to the other night and their agreement threw him for a sec
ond. He wasn't sure exactly what she was driving at, but he took a stab at it.

“I don't expect you to do any cleaning.”

Maybe that was why she was so willing to do it. “I was going to say that the first week or so is on the house—probably along with everything else,” she added under her breath. “At any rate, I can't have Chase living in a place like this.”

“You're right.”

What was he thinking, Connor upbraided himself, bringing Chase here? He didn't particularly care about conditions for himself. All he required was a strong cup of coffee in the morning and some kind of bed to fall into at night, and the last was negotiable. But it was different for a baby. A baby needed sanitary conditions.

“You and Chase can stay with Megan—my mother,” he amended, though the word still didn't come easily to him, “until I can get a cleaning crew to come out here.”

He missed her point, Lacy thought, beginning to slowly survey the room again. “I'm not about to impose on your mother a second longer than I already have. This is your ranch house so this is where Chase and I are going to stay.” At the last second, she avoided walking into a spiderweb. Lacy shivered, backing away. “Minus the cobwebs, of course.” She took a closer look at the intricate handiwork that spread from one edge of the fireplace to the opposite
wall. “Lord, those spiders must be huge.” She wasn't squeamish, but she sincerely hoped she wouldn't run into the spider that had made this particular web. It was probably as big as a hummingbird. “I don't suppose you've got any cleaning products here.”

He'd had the electricity turned on, and there were a few provisions in the pantry, but he hadn't thought any further than that. He'd had his mind more on the kind of ranch he'd wanted this to be—a horse ranch—than on the house.

Connor shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “Well, I—”

The somewhat sheepish tone gave her all the answer she needed.

“That's what I thought.” Mentally, she began making a list of things they were going to need immediately to make the house even vaguely livable. She saw the surprise on his face when she put out her hand. “I'd like the keys to the pickup, please.”

He took them out of his pocket and placed them in the palm of her hand. “Planning on going into town to stock up?”

She closed her hand over the keys. “Yes.”

“And what are you planning to use for money?”

She'd forgotten about that. It rankled her to ask, but this wasn't the time for pride. Besides, this was his place, not hers. Shifting Chase slightly, she put out her hand a second time and looked at Connor
expectantly. “I was hoping you'd solve that by giving me your credit card—or a large wad of cash.”

He dug into his wallet, extracting several hundred-dollar bills. He didn't believe in using credit cards, but he supposed he was going to have to develop the knack eventually. A man could only hold out against progress so long.

He didn't bother counting, but handed her the wad. “Just what is it you intend on getting?”

Pausing at the door, Lacy looked over her shoulder. The smile she gave him just before she left with Chase went right through him, clear down to the bone.

“Everything.”

 

A
S FAR BACK
as he could remember, he'd always been an early riser. Living on a working ranch had made that a necessity from the time he was old enough to pitch in. He'd enjoyed being part of the process, even though Clarise had insisted that he refrain, letting the hired hands do the work. But he had refused, immersing himself in the tasks that made a ranch a successful enterprise instead of just so much territory bordered by fences.

Getting up earlier than the sun had been something he took for granted. Most of the time, he was the first one to see the dawn.

But this morning, in this brand-new old place, someone had beat him to it. He realized he'd woken
up listening to a distant, not completely identifiable sound. For the time being, he'd taken the bedroom on the first floor, insisting that Lacy and Chase have the master suite until accommodations could be readied for them. The room that would be used as a nursery was crowded with broken furniture and a lifetime accumulation of things that could be charitably referred to as memorabilia. Connor called it junk.

He slipped into the clothes he'd worn the day before. He'd change into a clean set after his shower. The first order of business was to see what that noise was and to make himself one hell of a strong cup of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

He found both coffee—already made—and the source of the noise in the same place. The living room. Lacy, wearing an old shirt and shorts, her hair tied back and partially hidden under a red bandanna, was in the middle of trying to remove more than ten years' worth of dirt and grime from what appeared to have once been a pristine white and gray flagstone fireplace.

Chase, sitting on his well-padded bottom in the playpen she'd set up in the middle of the room, was busy entertaining himself with an array of colorful plastic blocks spread out in front of him. He was babbling away, as if he were telling himself jokes.

“You look like Cinderella,” Connor heard himself commenting.

She glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to see
him there. She'd felt his presence the moment he'd looked in the doorway. She supposed that was both her gift and her curse.

“I could use a few dozen helpful mice right around now,” she confessed. She'd been working awhile, beginning immediately after she'd fed Chase. She nodded at the coffee table in front of the sofa. There was a fresh pot of coffee plugged in. It minimized trips to the kitchen. “Help yourself to coffee. It'll get your blood going.”

Looking at her already accomplished that, he thought. But he nodded and made his way to the table. “Thanks.”

Connor waited until the long drag of the dark brew he swallowed kicked in. Then he looked at what she was doing. The sofa had a vague color to it, as did the coffee table. Both were functional but sported more than their share of cracks.

The fireplace looked like a perfect study of before and after, half of it dark white and the other half a sooty combination of black and grit. She was working too hard.

He knew she didn't seem to mind, but he did. He hadn't agreed to this arrangement to turn her into a slave.

“I told you that you didn't have to do that.” He took another long swallow. “That I'd get a crew out.”

He'd had a very vocal discussion with her about
that yesterday. He'd relented about the kitchen only because he'd been afraid of a grease fire starting when she made dinner if she'd left it the way it was. He'd gone to make phone calls and been amazed at the difference when he'd returned. The woman was clearly a wonder.

Lacy shrugged away his protest. “I was up early. Besides, cleaning gives me a feeling of renewal.”

He laughed shortly under his breath and took another long sip of coffee. “Then this place'll have you positively reborn.”

Feeling somewhat useless, Connor sat on the sofa. The newly cleaned, cracked dark tan leather sighed as it accepted his weight. He had a feeling a few tears had just widened under him. For a few minutes, Connor did nothing but drink his coffee and watch Lacy. She worked tirelessly.

And made him feel guilty.

He started to mentally review their arrangement and found it lacking all over again. Maybe now that she'd had some time to think it over, she had changed her mind. It was worth broaching. “You know, people might talk.”

Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Lacy paused to look at him, surprised at the sentence fragment that seemed to come out of nowhere. He'd been so quiet, if he'd been anyone other than Connor, she would have forgotten he was there.

“About?”

Why was she making him repeat himself? She knew damn well what he was referring to. “About the fact that you're a young woman, living in a man's house. The father of your child's house and, well…” Delicately, for her sake, he trailed off.

Getting on her knees, she started working on another section of the fireplace. It was really coming around, she congratulated herself. Too bad the same couldn't be said of Connor.

But Connor, she reminded herself, was a lost cause. “Since when do you care what people say?”

“I don't.” He never had, never would. But he wasn't thinking of himself right now. “But I thought you might.” Their eyes met and held for a moment. “That it might bother you because what they say could someday reach Chase.”

With any luck, she would raise her son to have thicker skin than she'd had. Humor curved her mouth. “We've got a few weeks before Chase starts listening to mindless gossip.”

He was being serious and she was making a joke out of it. Annoyed, Connor set his cup down harder than he should have on the table. The sound reverberated through the room. Chase looked at him with huge eyes before he went back to squeezing the blocks between his chubby hands.

“Damn it, Lacy, a woman's reputation isn't something to be so lightly regarded, no matter what those damn magazines say about equality.” Frustrated, he
dragged his hand through his hair. “Hell, when push comes to shove, men value their reputations, too.”

Lacy wasn't thinking about reputations. She couldn't control what people said. She could only exercise control over herself—and pray she had some sort of influence over the ones she loved. Like Connor. “How about their hearts, Connor? Do they value their hearts?”

Now what was she driving at? Annoyed, Connor poured himself a second cup of coffee, just as dark, just as inky as the first. “What?”

She went on as if he hadn't interrupted. “Because I value mine, and when I stand before God and preacher and say those words that I'm only going to say once, it's going to be to a man I love who loves me back, not because of what someone's Aunt Gertie whispers to someone else's Aunt Selma behind the canned peas display in the local grocery store.”

Well, she'd certainly made her feelings clear, Connor thought. “Supermarket,” he corrected, a small smile curving his mouth. “They've got supermarkets here, not grocery stores.”