Colorado Cowboy. C.C. Coburn
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his ex-girlfriend, Tory, because she’d claimed to be pregnant by him. He’d tried not to think about Megan for the past fifteen years.
Yesterday, when he’d received a phone call from the New York City judge informing him he had a son, he’d been shocked—disbelieving. To learn not only that he’d fathered Megan’s child, but that his son was in trouble with the law, had left him numb and confused. Judge Benson had requested a meeting in her office. Her tone had brooked no argument.
He’d assured the judge that if the child was his, he’d take responsibility and agreed to a meeting at noon the following day, anxious to resolve the matter, anxious to meet his son—if indeed this was his child. Anxious to see Megan again.
Paralyzed with shock, he’d turned to his brother, Matt, sheriff of Peaks County, for support. Matt had immediately agreed when Luke asked him to come to New York. They’d spent a sleepless night on the plane, discussing why Megan had never told him about the kid. How ironic that Tory had claimed to be pregnant with his child but wasn’t, while Megan apparently was. How deeply he regretted allowing himself to be tricked by Tory, but at the time what was he to believe? They’d split up a few weeks before he’d met Megan. He had no reason not to believe her. If only he’d had the sense to demand a pregnancy test. But Tory had seemed so fragile, so lost…. She’d taken their breakup so badly he hadn’t wanted to upset her any further.
He half wished Matt had worn his sheriff’s uniform; maybe the kid would watch his language in the presence of an officer of the law.
And in spite of Matt’s even-tempered counseling, Luke was still pretty steamed up by the time he’d arrived in the judge’s chambers today. He wanted to know why Megan had kept something so important a secret. And how had things gotten to the point that his son was such a delinquent he was on a one-way trip to juvenile detention?
Most young women wouldn’t hesitate to contact the father of their child, either to get money out of him—or pressure him to marry them—just as Tory had done. Yet Megan hadn’t said a word.
He’d fallen so hard and so fast that, within a week of meeting Megan, he’d wanted to make her his wife. She’d left him waiting at a restaurant with a diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket, feeling like every kind of fool when she hadn’t shown up for their date that evening. Instead, Tory had. The woman was obsessed with him. Could find him anywhere in their small town. At first Luke was flattered, but he’d soon found it suffocating. That was why he’d broken up with Tory. However, the news she’d delivered that night guaranteed he’d be tied to her for a very long time. Bile rose in his throat at the memory and he made an effort to push all thought of his ex-wife firmly aside.
Megan had kept his son’s existence a secret for more than fourteen years. Why? Luke had so many questions he needed answers to. He studied Megan, trying to gauge how she felt about being here. It was hard to tell, since she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She sure seemed worn down by life. Her light brown hair had lost its shine and there were dark smudges beneath her once-vibrant blue eyes. She’d lost a lot of weight, too; her clothes almost hung off her thin frame.
“Luke?” Matt nudged him. “Judge Benson was speaking to you.”
Luke turned back to the judge. “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I have to confess, this situation… Well, it’s taking me a while to come to grips with it.”
“Redneck!” Cody sneered.
“Cody, please?” his mother pleaded. “Don’t speak to your fa—Mr. O’Malley like that.”
That about sums it up, Luke thought. She’s scared of the kid. Begging with him, for Pete’s sake. So the kid figured his father was a bumpkin because he lived on a ranch, did he?
“I was saying, Mr. O’Malley, that it’s taken a great deal of courage on Ms. Montgomery’s part to reveal the name of Cody’s father and allow me to get in touch with you.
“When I saw Cody here in court again the other day on yet another misdemeanor, I was deeply saddened. His mom is doing the best she can, but raising a child in a city like New York can be hard enough with two parents in the home. It’s often almost impossible with one. And when that parent is finding it difficult to make ends meet, their children sometimes shoplift to get the things their parent can’t afford to buy them. They’re also easy prey for the street gangs. That will be Cody’s future if I don’t act now. My only alternative is to put him into juvenile detention—”
Cody swore, leaping to his feet, his chair clattering backward onto the floor.
“Cody! Don’t use that sort of language. Apologize to the judge.”
“No way!” he mumbled, picked up his chair and sat back down with a thud.
Luke was transfixed by the exchange. This kid didn’t give a damn who he offended—or hurt—especially his mom. No wonder the kid assumed he could do what he wanted. She was incapable of disciplining him.
Cody leaned back in his chair, and Luke had a clear view of Megan. Tears were welling in her eyes as she looked at him, then glanced away.
She needed him. Needed someone to take charge—if only for a while.
Suspecting most of Cody’s behavior was bravado—showing his father and uncle how tough he was—Luke knew one thing for sure: it was long past time to put a stop to it by starting to act like the kid’s father.
He leaned toward Cody and said in a low growl, “A word. Outside.” He stood and walked toward the door. The kid didn’t move. “Now!” he said more harshly.
After several long beats, the kid got up and sauntered over to the door. He pushed past Luke and walked out into the foyer.
Thankful the area was deserted, Luke watched as Cody slumped against a column, crossed his arms and fixed a smirk on his face.
It took all of Luke’s willpower not to grab his son by the shoulders and shake him. Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “I understand how angry you might be about the situation, but you won’t speak to women in that way—especially your mother. Treat me how you want, but I will not allow you to ever treat your mother like that again.”
“Yeah? How’re gonna stop me?”
Apparently, the kid was expecting a physical threat, but that had never been Luke’s way of disciplining his children. “Because I’m going to be your father from now on. You have a problem, you take it out on me, not your mom. Understand?”
He caught the flare of surprise in Cody’s expression, then it became guarded again as he shrugged and said, “Whatever,” and strode back into the judge’s chambers.
He stood in front of the desk, arms still folded. “Can we go now?” he asked his mother.
“No, Cody, we’re not leaving here until we’ve come to an agreement about your future.”
Luke wanted to cheer. At last Megan had said no. Up until now, all she’d done was try to placate her—their, he corrected himself—son.
“I think we’re all agreed we don’t want you in juvenile detention,” the judge continued. “So now we need to decide on a solution. Sit down, Cody,” she said firmly.
Cody hesitated for a moment and then complied, throwing himself into the chair and slouching in it, a sour look on his face.
Luke wasn’t so sure juvenile detention wasn’t the place for Cody. At juvie, they’d soon sort him out. His mom wouldn’t have to constantly worry about where he was. Or maybe Luke could provide them with financial support. Then Megan wouldn’t have to work; she could go to school full-time if she wanted. And he’d buy her a place in a better neighborhood.
“…my suggestion, therefore,” the judge was saying.
Luke gave himself a mental shake.
“…is that for Cody’s sake, he go and live with you on your ranch in Colorado—”
“No!”