Falling For The Cowboy Dad. Patricia Johns
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remember Tracy told me that she was going to make a gentleman out of him—My Fair Lady style.” Grace shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me that she left him at the first sign of a challenge.”
“They deserved each other,” Connie retorted.
“No, he didn’t deserve that. If they could have been happy, that would have been one thing, but as soon as Tracy found out about his daughter, she walked out on him.”
“Maybe she’ll come back.”
“Maybe.” But Grace’s heart gave a squeeze at the thought. She wanted Billy to have a full and happy life, but somehow giving him up for Tracy was harder than it would have been to see him move on with some woman she’d never met. “Anyway, his little girl’s name is Poppy, and she starts in my class tomorrow.”
“Two weeks, sweetheart,” her mother said. “You probably won’t see him except for drop-off and pickup.”
The kettle started to boil, and Grace pulled down two mugs. She could get through this, but it wouldn’t be easy. The problem with Billy wasn’t just her feelings for him. Grace had learned some valuable lessons through allowing herself to fall in love with a man who didn’t reciprocate her feelings. No good could come from it! She’d spent too long hoping that he would suddenly see her in a different light and recognize that his best buddy was actually his perfect romantic match. Now she knew she’d never thought it all through.
What happened if he did see her differently? She’d still be the woman who hadn’t been enough to draw his eye for literally years’ worth of friendship. Yes, Grace was plump and round in an age of lithe models, but she didn’t suffer from low self-esteem. Everyone had a type they were attracted to. She seemed to like lanky cowboys. And Billy liked the model type. He always had. There was nothing to apologize for here.
“How did you feel seeing him again?” her mother asked, passing Grace a tin of tea bags.
“I’m okay,” Grace replied. “Billy was a good friend, and our lives have both moved on.”
“Very mature of you,” her mother said, shooting her a smile.
“Thank you. I thought so, too.”
Connie chuckled. “What is his little girl like? Does she favor him?”
“You can see him in the shape of her face... His daughter is gifted, though.”
“Are you serious?”
“It sure looks that way. She’s four, and she sat down and wrote a letter to her father about how she liked his cowboy hat. She called it ‘extra special beautiful.’ She said how she’d never had a daddy before, but she said he could use his muscles to keep her safe, and she hoped he wouldn’t go away like her mother had. She promised to be good so he wouldn’t want to. It was heart-wrenching—and perfectly punctuated.”
“At four,” Connie breathed.
They exchanged a long look.
“He’s overwhelmed,” Grace admitted, and an image of Billy came to mind—those dark eyes, the large, calloused hands, and the tender way he’d held his petite daughter in his arms. Billy might never have loved Grace, but he certainly did love that little girl.
“Gracie, it’s a good thing that you’re going back to Denver,” her mother replied. “He’s a dad now, and he’ll have to figure it out on his own. He’s always been very comfortable leaning on you as his buddy, but you can’t use up all your energy on Billy Austin again. You’ve got your own life to live.”
“I’m not trying to rescue him,” Grace replied. “I won’t go back to that.”
It wasn’t possible to love a man into loving her, and she couldn’t fill those gaps between them with her own hopes and dreams. She was going back to Denver to work her next job, and hopefully one of these days, she’d meet a guy who looked at her the same way Billy had looked at Tracy.
“Let’s see if your father notices these aren’t potatoes,” Connie said, looking down into the bowl she’d been mashing.
“He’ll notice,” Grace said with a low laugh, and she looked down into the bowl. “I think they’re getting soupy, Mom.”
“Oh...” Connie sighed.
“You don’t need to lose weight, you know,” Grace said. “You and I are soft in all the right places.”
“I’d like to have a waist, though,” her mother retorted. “And I’m determined to get one.”
Grace knew better than to argue with her mom when she was on a mission, but Grace’s most treasured memories of her mother included her soft hugs, her delectable baking and the way her chunky jewelry used to clatter when Grace would fiddle with it as a little girl. And when Grace’s father looked at her mother from across the room, Grace had always seen that look of devotion that she longed for from a man of her own.
It wasn’t about weight, because her mother had always been a beautiful woman who could light up a room with her smile and her laughter. She’d had a soft figure, an ample bosom, and she’d always taken pride in her appearance. Her parents’ marriage had been about two people who were so in love that they didn’t need anyone else.
Grace went to a bottom cupboard and pulled out the bag of potatoes. “I’ll just peel a few,” she said with a grin. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Connie looked down at the cauliflower mush in the bowl and smiled sheepishly. “I can have a cheat day, right?”
Grace would not eat cauliflower mashed into fake potatoes. Life was too short for that kind of sadness on a plate. Her life in Denver had been about more than moving on after Billy moved in with Tracy; it was about building the life she wanted—asking for what she wanted.
And tonight she wanted some comfort food and a cozy evening. It wasn’t too much to ask.
* * *
“IS MY PONYTAIL STRAIGHT?” Poppy asked as Billy pulled into a parking spot in front of the school the next morning. It had been a hurried morning. Poppy had refused to get out of bed, so getting her ready for school had been hectic. They hadn’t had anything pressing to do since he’d gotten custody of her, and this morning—his first day back on the job at Ross Ranch—was a taste of real-life parenting.
Poppy didn’t want to eat, didn’t want her hair brushed, didn’t want to wear matching clothes from the small suitcase her mom had dropped off with her. He’d given up on the last one, and this morning she wore blue tights, a pink summer dress and a second-hand Christmas sweater on top of it all. She said Mommy had bought her the sweater, and it seemed unnecessarily cruel to deny her some connection to her mom. It only occurred to him now that she’d probably be expected to play outside, and he didn’t have snow pants for her.
Billy looked over at her for a moment, considering his morning’s handiwork. He’d done his best.
“It’s not perfectly straight,” he admitted. “But it’s not bad. You look good, kiddo.”
With the rest of her ensemble, no one would be looking at her hair, anyway.
“I don’t want to go to school,” Poppy said, her eyes welling with tears.
“This is where you’ll learn the fun stuff,” he said. “A teacher can show you all sorts of things I can’t. Besides, I have to go to work while you’re at school. That’s the deal I made with Mr. Ross.”
Billy had worked at the Ross ranch before he left for Denver with Tracy, and now that he was back, Mr. Ross had been happy to offer him another job. Billy had built a reputation for himself based on his hard work. Mr. Ross understood the complication of having a little girl to take care of, so he agreed to flex-time employment—Billy would put in as many hours as he could while his daughter was at school, and he’d be paid by the hour. It was a generous offer, and