Daddy for Keeps. Pamela Tracy

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      Natalie stretched. All morning she’d battled fatigue and stress, and wouldn’t you know it, she’d done some of her best work. Glancing at the printout, she then looked at the screen, checked all the spelling and once again made sure the video trailer she’d created took only seconds to load.

      She usually didn’t get to work this late in the morning. Usually, by now, she was watching The Wiggles with Robby. She’d been lucky seven years ago, when she’d created a Web site in a high school computer class. The teacher liked her design and introduced her to his wife, who’d started designing Web pages as a stay-at-home job. Natalie and she became business partners. When Natalie got older and her partner had two more children, Natalie took over the business and it grew.

      It had paid for college so that her father didn’t have to. It had helped support her and Robby. But it hadn’t covered everything. Natalie needed to gain more clients now.

      “Mommy, milk.”

      “Sure, Robby. When did you wake up?”

      “When my eyes opened.”

      She pushed the laptop toward the middle of the table and stood. Julia Child had nothing to worry about. Natalie’s idea of a good breakfast was a pancake she could pop in the microwave and a cold glass of milk.

      Robby, a boy of few words in the morning, got himself a plate and paper towel, and then climbed up on Pop Pop’s chair and waited.

      A minute later, the newspaper hit the front door and the pancakes were ready.

      Robby got the paper; Natalie set the food out.

      The front page of the Selena Gazette featured the rodeo, make that the rodeo star.

      A bit of pancake lodged in Natalie’s throat. She tried to swallow, but coughed. Half of her glass of milk soaked the front of her shirt; the other half splashed onto the floor. She quickly grabbed a rag. Usually, it was Robby’s spilled milk. Unlike her, he didn’t cry over the mess. But then, she really wasn’t crying about the milk.

      After a moment, she sat back at the table and stared at Monday’s newspaper. There he was. A winner. The picture had been taken yesterday, as Lucky conducted something called Cowboy Church. Standing next to him, with admiration written on her face, was a local girl, a Realtor’s daughter.

      She’d expected Lucky to show up yesterday. It had taken every ounce of courage not to turn off the lights, shut the curtains and move heavy furniture in front of the door. But instead of showing up at her door, the Big Bad Wolf had been at church.

      She glanced at the newspaper article. Cowboy Church? Okay, maybe Big Bad Wolf was an unfair moniker. And, in truth, she’d started this fiasco—she and her big mouth.

      Lucky had looked shocked by her announcement—and her demand.

      Even from the grainy black-and-white picture, Natalie could see what made him more than a typical cowboy. He had a magnetism that upset her stomach. She wanted to blame the pancake, but in all honesty, it was Lucky who sent the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

      Natalie had wondered all along if Marcus hadn’t told his family. That would explain why they’d left her alone. Until her dad’s death, she hadn’t cared, really, hadn’t needed help or money.

      She should have waited, thought this through, not acted on impulse. Of course, impulse was what brought Robby into her life.

      Robby slurped the last of his milk. “I’m finished,” he announced, pushing away the plate. In a moment, he was out of the chair, into the living room and back in the kitchen wearing Pop Pop’s cowboy hat. Too big, it had the habit of falling in Robby’s eyes, and he whipped it off and let out a whoop. Since yesterday, he’d continually ridden a broom around the house. Even worse, he’d gotten really good at pretending to fall off.

      He hit the ground, pure rodeo landing, and she flinched.

      Pop Pop would have had the video camera out.

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