Lone Star Father. Marin Thomas
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with. But she’d never imagined him being a father.
Eventually the streaks of pinkish orange along the horizon gave way to bright sunlight. The pace of life in Stampede was turtle slow compared to the hustle and bustle of Wisconsin’s state capital. Last year she’d despised the tiny Texas town for luring her cousins away from Madison. Not in a million years had Scarlett believed she’d be living here, too.
If not for being duped by Dale, and having been forced to resign from her job, she wouldn’t have packed her belongings and moved south. Fortunately there was a need for social workers, and Family Crisis Services in Mesquite had offered her a job right away.
The door to the High Noon room opened and Jessie stepped outside with Fang. The little Chihuahua was dressed in his Superman T-shirt and his owner wore pajama bottoms, pink fuzzy slippers and a sweatshirt. Coffee in hand Scarlett left the office and followed the duo behind the motel. “Good morning,” she said.
Jessie jumped, then slapped her hand against her chest. “Crap, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” Scarlett sat at the picnic table.
Jessie walked the dog until he did his job, then scooped him off the ground and joined Scarlett, placing Fang on top of the table.
“The plastic bags to pick up his doo-doo are over there.” Scarlett pointed to the waste station.
Jessie put her hand in front of Fang’s face and said, “Stay,” then walked off to clean up the dog’s mess. When she sat down again, she removed a single-serve can of pet food from the pocket of her sweatshirt and popped the lid off. Fang’s tail twirled like a propeller as he gobbled his breakfast.
“Where did you get your coffee?” Jessie asked.
“There’s a Keurig machine in the office. Do you drink coffee?”
The preteen nodded.
Twelve was a little young to get hooked on jitter juice. After the dog finished his meal, Scarlett said, “There’s milk in the office fridge.”
“I like coffee.”
They returned to the office, where Jessie filled a disposable cup with water from the cooler and offered Fang a drink.
“You take very good care of him.” Scarlett watched Jessie make herself coffee, then dump three creamers and two packets of sugar into the cup—definitely not a proper breakfast for a twelve-year-old.
“If you like animals,” Scarlett said, “then you’ll love visiting the petting zoo at your great-grandfather’s ranch.”
Jessie sipped the hot brew, squinting over the rim of the cup. “If we’re allowed to go to the ranch.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad said he wasn’t a very good grandson.”
Scarlett wondered how much of his childhood Reid had shared with his daughter.
“If no one wants my dad to stay, then we’ll probably go back to El Paso.”
Time to change the subject. “Are you hungry? There’s a box of instant oatmeal in the back.”
“Sure,” Jessie said.
In the makeshift kitchen behind the office, Scarlett microwaved two bowls of apple-cinnamon oatmeal. When she handed Jessie her breakfast, the girl said, “You’re really pretty.”
“Thank you.” Scarlett was aware of her beauty. She’d been blessed with flawless skin, luminous eyes and high cheekbones. As far as hairdos went, she looked good in any style, which was why she wore a wash-ʼnʼ-wear haircut, because it saved her time getting ready for work each morning.
“I used to have long hair.” Scarlett touched her lower back. “All the way down to my hips. My friend told me guys liked long hair so I never cut it.” She finished her oats. “Then I woke up one morning in college and stared at myself in the mirror and said, ‘Why do I care what guys think?’” She smiled. “I cut it all off and I’ve been wearing it short ever since.”
Jessie scratched Fang behind the ears and the dog’s eyes closed. “My mom had long hair.”
Scarlett sat down in a chair. “Were you and your mother close?”
Jessie nodded. “It was mostly just me and my mom.”
“I was close to my mother when I was your age,” Scarlett said.
“Is she still alive?”
“Yes. She taught second grade, but she’s retired now.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“You don’t want kids?”
“Someday maybe.” Scarlett smiled to cover the sting she felt when she thought of Dale’s daughter Amy. She’d loved the six-year-old as a mother not a social worker. “I have a full caseload of kids at work.”
“My mom wanted more kids, but after Mike broke up with her, she never got another boyfriend.”
Not only did Jessie have a rough time of it, but her mother had, too. “What kind of work did your mom do?”
“She was a supervisor in a warehouse.”
“I like hearing about women bosses,” Scarlett said.
Jessie sat up straighter. “Sometimes she drove a forklift.”
“Impressive. The largest vehicle I’ve ever driven is the van I borrowed from a friend to move to a new apartment.” Scarlett’s cousins had nicknamed her gypsy because she only signed one-year leases at apartment complexes.
Jessie dropped her gaze. “My mom died at work.”
Scarlett pictured a woman passing out at her desk after suffering a heart attack, stroke or brain aneurism. “What happened?”
“She backed the forklift into a bunch of wooden pallets and they fell on top of her.”
Scarlett winced.
“My grandparents died a long time ago,” Jessie said. “That’s why Mrs. Delgado had to call my dad.”
Had to call? “You didn’t keep in touch with your father?”
Jessie shook her head. “My mom said he didn’t want anything to do with us.”
Wow. No wonder Reid and his daughter appeared uneasy with each other.
“His name was on my birth certificate.” Jessie pulled Fang closer to her body as if the animal was a shield. “So I’m stuck with him.”
Stuck? That wasn’t the way things worked in social services, especially with children Jessie’s age. If she hadn’t wanted to be with Reid, her caseworker wouldn’t have forced her to live with him.
The lobby door opened and Fang barked. Reid stepped inside, wearing pajama bottoms, a rumpled T-shirt, his cowboy boots and hat.
Scarlett smiled at the pillow crease along his cheek. “Good morning.” It took immense willpower to maintain eye contact with him and not allow her gaze to drift over his muscular chest and the cotton bottoms clinging to his slim hips.
He dragged a hand down his tired face, then looked at his daughter. “I woke up and you weren’t in the room.”
“Fang had to pee,” Jessie said.
“I bet you could use some caffeine.” While Scarlett made him a cup of joe, a deafening silence filled the room. When she offered him the drink, his fingers skimmed her knuckles and tiny sparks raced up her arm. “There’s cream and sugar on the table.”
“Black is fine.” He took a sip, then spoke. “You hungry?”
“We had oatmeal,” Jessie said.
Scarlett