Kayla's Cowboy. Callie Endicott

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      “Why is he worried about meeting me?”

      Kayla sighed and pushed her rich auburn hair away from her face. The motion drew attention to the delicate curve of her cheek and brilliant blue of her eyes and he wondered if it was a deliberately provocative gesture, intended to distract him.

      “I’m not sure,” she said. “I know he’s disconcerted because you aren’t what he’d imagined his birth father would be like.”

      “What sort of man did he think I’d be?”

      She shrugged and Jackson averted his gaze from the movement of her breasts against the emerald-green T-shirt she wore.

      “Somewhere between Seattle and Schuyler Alex got the notion that his biological father was an artist or something similar. It’s quite an adjustment to go from envisioning you as an artist to discovering you’re a big tough cowboy his grandmother has to fight off.”

      “That isn’t what happened,” Jackson growled, unable to think why Elizabeth Garrison had implied such a thing. Well, she had gotten irate, so maybe it was understandable.

      “I’m just saying how it sounded to a kid hearing one side of the conversation. Alex has an active imagination, and there’s no telling what else he might be thinking.”

      Massaging the tense muscles at the back his neck, Jackson decided to try a new approach. “I apologize, but try to understand where I’m coming from. Less than twenty-four hours ago I found out I have a son. Then I had to explain it to my daughter and—”

      “Frankly, any sympathy I might have had vanished when I had to deal with a freaked-out teenager,” Kayla interrupted.

      He had no one but himself to blame. It had been stupid to imply to Elizabeth Garrison that Kayla might have failed to explain the situation to Alex. As for rushing her son back to Seattle? Kayla could have done that before talking to him in the first place.

      “Okay,” he said. “What can I do to make Alex more comfortable?”

      “I’ll try to find out, for his sake, not yours. At least he’s still asking questions, such as what sort of person you are, what you like and dislike, if you get mad easily. That sort of thing.”

      “I don’t...uh, usually don’t get mad easily,” Jackson said. It was mostly true; it had taken months of Morgan’s resentful rebellion to turn him into a crazy person with a hair-trigger fuse.

      “I’m sure that’s debatable,” Kayla observed wryly. “But tell me about your hobbies, or something that Alex can relate to.”

      “I raise horses.”

      She hiked an eyebrow. “Not helpful. Alex has a cat and grew up in the city, so horses aren’t something he normally encounters. Sandy—that’s his best friend—went on a ranch vacation last year and fell in love with riding, but Alex hasn’t shown any interest. Anything else?”

      Jackson tried to think. How did he connect with a kid who attended science fiction conventions? Maybe the biggest thing he shared with Alex was being nonplussed that they had so little in common.

      “I enjoy baseball,” he said finally.

      “That’s good. What team?”

      “I’m partial to the Cubs. Oh, and I’m not crazy about the designated-hitter rule in the American League.”

      “Alex will look forward to trying to convert you.”

      “When do I get a chance to be converted?” Jackson asked.

      She made an exasperated sound. “A shred of patience would be helpful. I need to give Alex more than baseball to make him comfortable. Have you seen any of the Star Trek movies?”

      “Uh, yeah. Sure. Star Trek. Great film.”

      Kayla gave him a stern look. “Don’t say something just because you think that’s what we want to hear. Alex can spot a phony even better than I can.”

      “Fine, I didn’t pay that much attention when Morgan watched the last Star Trek flick,” Jackson admitted. “But I’ll put it on again if it will help.”

      Rolling her eyes, Kayla nodded. “What about art? Any likes or dislikes?”

      “Some. M. C. Escher is interesting. But have you raised Alex to only get along with people who are exactly the same as him, or am I the only one who has to fit into a box?”

      “No, but it’s one thing to make a friend who doesn’t enjoy the same things, another to meet a complete stranger who’s actually your birth father. He doesn’t know what you expect or think and he’s nervous.”

      A second food server approached their table. “Are you sure you don’t want dinner, Jackson? The chili is real good today. I’ll get Walt to slice a few of those fresh jalapeño peppers you like.”

      Jackson smiled tightly; normally he appreciated the attentive service at Ryan’s, but not tonight. “Thanks, Cora, we’re fine.”

      Kayla cocked her head as Cora retreated to the front of the restaurant. “She seems familiar. Was she in high school when we were there?”

      “She was. And no, I haven’t dated her.”

      “That wasn’t what I was asking, but at least I can leave Cora off the family reunion invitation list.”

      Finishing his coffee, Jackson reminded himself that he only had himself to thank for the current mess in his life.

      * * *

      MORGAN CLICKED THE Internet Explorer icon and watched it come up on the computer screen. Flora had enabled her access at exactly nine o’clock, the hour ending the no-internet part of being grounded.

      Her dad had gone out, saying he had an appointment at Ryan’s Roadhouse. It had to be a date. He never brought anyone home that he’d hooked up with, and he never spent the entire night away, but she knew the score. She’d called to ask about going the lake again, just to annoy him, then hung up when he started repeating that crap about different rules. It wasn’t as if she’d expected a different answer.

      Morgan logged on to Facebook to see if her new half brother had an account. She searched for an Alex Anderson in Seattle, Washington, and scrolled through the list until she saw a face that was eerily familiar.

      Morgan gulped.

      Cripes, he looked an awful lot like her dad. She clicked on his profile and saw the stuff he’d entered about his interests. Her dad had said he was a science fiction and baseball fan, but Alex had also listed art and computers.

      For a second she kept the curser away from the friend request button. It would be a bummer if Alex didn’t want to be her friend, and she was already sick inside from not being wanted, but...no. She wasn’t going to be a stinking coward.

      Morgan lifted her chin and punched the request button. Then she went on to chat with her buddies, though the really cool ones had already left for the lake and didn’t seem to be logging СКАЧАТЬ