The Rancher's Secret Child. Brenda Minton

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      “That’s the whole idea, being hard to find.”

      He helped Oliver onto the swing and gave it a push. “We’re going to sit on the porch. You’ll be okay here.”

      Oliver grinned big. “It’s fun here.”

      “Yeah, it is.” He gave the boy one last look and headed for the house.

      He didn’t turn back to see if she followed. Lissa tried not to let that hurt. She wasn’t here for herself. But it mattered, whether or not he was good and if he was caring. Oliver needed a real father, someone to look up to. Someone who would be there for him.

      She stepped onto the front porch and glanced around. It needed paint and a few boards had to be repaired. There were chairs and an old dog sleeping in a worn-out dog bed. The animal lifted his head to give them a once-over.

      “Lucky isn’t much of a guard dog,” Marcus told her as he pointed to a chair. “He’s been following me around the country for the past ten years. He’s half-deaf and nearly blind.”

      Lissa thought the dog was a piece of the puzzle that was Marcus Palermo. The black-and-brown hound dog fixed soulful eyes on his master and then her. They must not have appeared too interesting, because he yawned and fell back to sleep.

      “Why is his name Lucky?”

      “He got hit by a car when he was a puppy. I found him on the side of the road and nursed him back to health and he’s been Lucky ever since,” Marcus explained as he sat on the edge of the porch. “About the boy. Are you dumping him here, like he’s a stray? Or do you want money?”

      “He is not a stray. He’s a little boy and I love him. I’m here to see if you’re ready to be a part of his life.”

      “You make it sound like I was given a choice and rejected him.”

      “Sammy gave me the job of making sure you are ready to be a dad.”

      “Make sure I’m ready?” A cold thread of anger sharpened the words. He was no longer the easygoing cowboy he’d been moments ago. When she looked up, his gaze was on her, as glacial as his words.

      “Sammy didn’t know if you would want to be a father. She also didn’t know if you would be able.”

      “I see. I guess I do have more negatives than positives. Bad-tempered, dysfunctional and a recovering drunk. Not much hope in all of that.”

      “She loved her son and wanted him safe.” Lissa didn’t add that she wanted Oliver safe. She wanted to protect him and make sure his future was secure.

      “So you think I should have to jump through your hoops in order to be his dad? Because the way I see it, I could just take you to court.”

      She knew that, but on hearing him say it, emotion rolled through her, settling in the pit of her stomach and making her heart ache. Her gaze settled on Oliver as he worked to keep the swing moving.

      “It would be unfair to Oliver to do this without taking time to allow him to get to know you. To bond with you. I need to know that you’re responsible and that you’ll be a good dad.”

      “You need to make sure I’m not my father,” he said without animosity, as if he was removed from the situation with his father, a known cult leader.

      “Okay. Yes. And I do have legal custody.”

      “I’m going to be honest here. I don’t think you should leave him with me.” He glanced her way and then his attention turned to Oliver. “He seems like a good kid. Anyone in their right mind would want him. I know you want him. And, well, I don’t want to mess that little boy up. He’s already had it rough. Why make things worse for him?”

      “Because he’s yours,” she pointed out. “Because he deserves to know he has a father.”

      “Not everyone knows how to be a father. Some people don’t deserve the title.”

      Marcus watched as the little boy got off the swing, gave it a push and then struggled to climb back on the moving tire. The dog suddenly took interest in his surroundings and the visitors. He stood, shook from head to toe and trotted off the porch and across the yard to Oliver.

      The rangy old dog, some type of coon dog, she guessed, obviously held more appeal than the swing. Oliver jumped, rolled across the ground and then giggled as the animal licked his face.

      “Lucky. Enough.” Marcus whistled. The dog stopped licking, but he didn’t return to the porch. Instead, he plopped on his belly and stretched out next to his new friend.

      “You should give yourself a chance.” She found herself uttering the last words she’d wanted to say to him.

      He scoffed. “No, I don’t think so. Give myself a chance to what? Mess that kid up? He’s happy. Let’s keep it that way.”

      “Don’t you want him to know that you’re his dad?”

      He pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the post. “No. I don’t want him to know. I’m sure you know plenty about my family. I told myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t be a part of continuing the family line.”

      “And yet you did. That little boy is your family.”

      “And he’s got you. You look like a perfectly normal, responsible adult, and you love him. If it’s money you’re worried about, he isn’t going to go without. I’ll make sure of that.”

      She glared at him. “Money doesn’t replace a parent or parents, Mr. Palermo.”

      He met her gaze with a fiery look of his own. “I’m Marcus. Mr. Palermo was my father. And that’s a good enough reason for you to take the boy and go.”

      She stood and walked past him, her shoulder brushing his. He didn’t make a move to chase her down and stop her. She kind of wished he had, because she thought if he’d give himself a chance, he had a shot at being a good dad.

      Oliver resisted when she told him they had to leave, but Marcus Palermo had already gone inside. What kind of man could turn his back and walk away without even offering a goodbye to his child? She knew the answer. A man who had been damaged, just as Sammy had warned. A man who didn’t want to look too closely at what he was turning his back on.

      She considered pounding on his door, demanding he care. But a person couldn’t be forced to care. She’d learned that lesson at an early age.

       Chapter Two

      The next morning, Marcus woke with regrets. He stumbled to the kitchen and poured water into the coffeemaker before heading out the back door to the one thing he’d actually done to the old farmhouse. He’d added a porch with a swing, and he spent many a morning there watching the sun come up.

      Nothing said home like a porch swing.

      He loved the start of a new day when the sky turned from inky black to gray, and then that big orange ball СКАЧАТЬ