Last Chance Cowboy. Cathy Mcdavid
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always has.” That was something Sage didn’t understand. Her ex could afford the child support. He just refused to pay it.
Another thing Sage didn’t understand was his disinterest in seeing Isa. How could a father who’d been devoted to his daughter for the first two years of her life not want to see her? Spend time with her? Be a vital part of her growing up?
“We’re here,” Roberto said, and maneuvered the SUV into the driveway of a large Santa Fe–style house.
“Do you think he’s home?” Sage asked, her worry spiking at the noticeable absence of a vehicle in the driveway.
Roberto grinned confidently. “Only one way to find out.”
At Dan’s front door, Roberto rung the bell.
Sage read the hand-painted stone plaque hanging beside the door.
The Rivera Family.
His last name, penned with large, bold strokes, reminded her that she and Dan had never married. She’d wanted to, had brought up the subject frequently during their three years together, but Dan had always manufactured some excuse.
Roberto rang the doorbell again. Sage rubbed her sweaty palms on the front of her jeans.
The Rivera Family.
Suddenly it struck her. Family! As in wife and children.
Before her thought had a chance to fully develop, the door swung open, and Dan appeared in the frame, his expectant expression dissolving into a frown the instant he spotted her.
“What do you want, Sage?”
“To make sure you receive a copy of this.” Roberto attempted to hand Dan the child support demand letter. “Since you haven’t responded to the nine previous ones mailed to you.”
He drew back, refusing to accept the papers. “Who the hell are you?”
“Ms. Navarre’s attorney.”
“Get off my property.”
“You owe my client four years of back child support. You can’t get out of it just because—”
“Dan, who is it?” A young, strikingly beautiful and very pregnant woman appeared behind Dan, a toddler boy balanced on her hip.
“It’s okay, Maria,” he said crossly. “I have this handled.”
She backed away, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face, then disappeared into the house’s dim interior.
The sudden realization that Dan had committed to another woman when he’d refused to commit to her stung bitterly. It shouldn’t, Sage told herself. She was over him. Past that. Moved on. And yet, her heart broke like a dam, releasing fresh pain.
Just then, Dan’s cell phone rang. Angling his body away from them, he answered it, speaking in clipped, short sentences. “Hello. Yeah. Not today. Look, Gavin, I’m busy right now. Call you later.”
Alarm shot through Sage, leaving her unsteady.
Was that Gavin Powell calling Dan?
She took a deep breath, only vaguely aware of Roberto whispering to her that they weren’t leaving until they’d served Dan with the papers.
Slowly, rationality returned. Gavin had no idea Dan was Isa’s father. He owned the local riding stables, and Dan was a horse trainer. It stood to reason they knew each other and possibly had dealings together. Clients in common.
Dan disconnected and, pocketing his cell phone, turned back around. “As I was saying—”
“As I was saying …” Rober to tried again to give Dan the papers.
He swatted them away. “You’re not getting anything from me without proof.”
“Proof of what, Dan?” Sage demanded, her voice shaking from residual shock and rising anger.
“Paternity. How do I even know Isa’s mine?”
Sage reeled as if physically struck. “Of course she’s yours,” she sputtered.
“I’m not so sure. You were still seeing that old boyfriend of yours.”
“We worked together. That’s all.”
“Yeah? Well, get the kid tested. Then we’ll talk.” With that, Dan slammed the door in Sage’s and Roberto’s faces.
Chapter Three
Gavin opened his front door to a miniature version of Sage, complete with boots, jeans and a floppy cowboy hat.
“Hi. I’m Isa.” She displayed a huge smile, not the least bit embarrassed by her two missing front teeth.
“I’m Gavin. Come on in.” He stepped aside, and she jumped over the threshold into the living room, landing with both feet planted firmly on a colorful braided area rug.
“Do you have a last name?”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course.” She giggled. “What’s yours?”
“Powell. Why?”
“My mom says I have to call adults by their last name.” She assessed him with dark brown eyes in much the same manner her mother had yesterday. “Thank you for having me here today, Mr. Powell.”
Her speech sounded rehearsed, probably Sage’s doing, but Gage was impressed nonetheless.
He’d once visited Cassie when she was about this age. He and Isa had already exchanged more words in two minutes than he and Cassie had during their first hour together.
In all fairness to his daughter, she hadn’t been meeting an acquaintance of her mother. The man standing before her was her father, a stranger she didn’t remember from his last visit three years earlier.
The horse figurine he’d brought as a gift hadn’t broken the ice. How was he to know she liked Barbie dolls and dressing up? Their trip to the park had been strained, as were the next three days. How hard it must have been for Cassie to be thrust into the care of a man she barely knew and told, “This is your father.”
Love wasn’t something that could be manufactured on the spot just because of a biological connection.
The worst moment of that trip was when they were saying goodbye. To his astonishment, Cassie hugged him fiercely and, in a teary voice, asked him not to go. The only genuine moment they’d shared and it had to be when he was getting into the rental car and heading to the airport.
His answer, he couldn’t remember it now, had just made her cry.
His next visit three years later was even more strained. And this last time, when he’d picked her up at the airport for her first-ever trip to Arizona, she’d been sullen rather than shy. Nothing much had changed in the four months since.
He must, he told himself, be patient with her. Their dys-functionality hadn’t happened overnight. It wouldn’t be resolved quickly, either.
“Where’s your mom?” he asked Isa.
“Right here.” Sage rushed through the still-open door, pocketing her cell phone and looking completely frazzled. Her high, elegant cheekbones were flushed a vivid crimson, and several tendrils of hair hung haphazardly around her face as if pulled loose by anxious fingers. “I told you to wait for me, mija.”
“Yes, but—” Isa’s eyes widened with delight. “You have a puppy!” She dropped to her knees and opened her arms.
Cassie’s puppy went right to her, drawn like iron particles to a magnet, his entire hind end shaking along with his tail. She gathered him into her lap, giggling as he covered her chin with kisses.
“What’s