to a flicker of that girl from all those summers ago.
“Please.” All kinds of new feelings buzzed around inside his body; his mind jumped from possibility to implausibility and back. He was a father?
She dug into her purse and produced a red leather wallet, opened it and immediately found a standard school photo and proudly showed it to him. “He’s tall for his age.”
He took it. If he’d doubted for one second that he’d actually been the father, he couldn’t very well do it now. And shame on him for even holding out a tiny hope it wasn’t true. The kid staring at him from the picture was a gangly version of himself at twelve or thirteen, but with Julie’s lighter brown, curly hair and freckles over the bridge of his nose. He suppressed his reaction, but was pretty sure she’d already picked up on it. That DNA couldn’t be denied.
“Thanks.”
“You want to keep it? I’ve got plenty more.”
Did he want to take the first step …? Hell, he’d done that thirteen years ago. “Sure. Thanks.” How could he refuse?
Julie gave a demure yet hopeful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
He tore his gaze from the photo and exhaled, then watched her walk down the hall to the exit. “I’ll be here.” Then he put the boy’s picture in his desk drawer and closed it.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Rather than head straight to the house and face his father, since the sun had poked out that afternoon, Trevor decided to take a ride on Zebulon to help work through the residual anger directed at his newest employee. He also needed to check the area that his smartphone mapping app said was down. Until grazing-management technology was able to produce virtual fences and cattle headgear, he’d continue to do things the old-fashioned way—by hand. And today he’d use this possible boundary breach as an excuse to avoid facing his father. Besides, he needed more time to run the latest news through his brain—for about the hundredth time since Julie had told him he was a father.
He’d come home after graduating from college to help out on the ranch before heading off to medical school. He’d learned to work hard and play hard back then—he’d even finished his undergraduate work in three years instead of the usual four—and every weekend that summer, after helping out on the ranch, he’d hit whichever party in town that had promised the most ladies. Because he’d deserved it. At least, that was what he used to tell himself.
Sitting atop Zebulon, his buckskin Appaloosa, Trevor felt the frigid air cut through his lungs. He inhaled deeper, hoping the burn might shock some sense into him. Yet so far, he couldn’t get Julie and James Sterling, his ready-made family, out of his mind.
Back then, the year he’d met her, word had traveled fast in their tiny town, and it had always been easy to find out about the weekend hangouts. It hadn’t taken much to make a party. An old abandoned barn or a campfire ring, some bales of hay to sit on, car radios for music. The gatherings, as they used to call the weekly events, had always been well attended.
At twenty-one, he hadn’t been a teenager anymore, but he’d gotten used to partying on weekends at the university, so he’d gone. Got treated like near royalty as a college grad, too. And that was the first time he’d noticed Julie. He’d asked one of his buddies who she was and he’d told him she was seventeen and had just graduated from high school. They’d spent most of that summer checking out each other, but something had kept Trevor from approaching her. He hadn’t had any plans that included getting involved with a girl, not back home anyway, and maybe he’d instinctively known she might be trouble. Trouble? With that sweet face and sinful body?
Oh, yeah, trouble—big trouble. And damned if he hadn’t walked right into it.
“Will you dance with me?” she’d asked that night, looking all innocent and pretty as summer itself in a little flowery sundress. It had been the last weekend before he was set to leave for Boston University School of Medicine. He’d held out all summer, but something about the way the campfire had outlined her wild hair, making it look golden with shooting solar flares for curls, had made him accept the beer she’d handed him, and the offer to dance. He even remembered thinking, This is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and yet he hadn’t been able to help himself and had done it anyway. And it had been a slow dance.
He’d had a couple of beers already; even so he’d known he shouldn’t talk to or dance with this girl, but he hadn’t been able to resist. Not when she’d been right there, smiling so pretty.
Zebulon stopped without reason, and Trevor snapped out of his memories, realizing they were already at the fence line, and sure enough a couple of posts were down. He texted Jack, the ranch foreman, giving him the location, and waited for his reply.
And he remembered Julie’s bright, though guarded, eyes from earlier, how they’d still enticed him. How they’d brought back memories of that last summer home before med school, and his taking advantage of the young woman’s willingness that night. How they’d reminded him of innocence, both his and hers. She was right—she could have ruined the life he’d planned if she’d told him about the pregnancy back then. But she hadn’t. That had taken some guts.
In order to get through her orientation at the clinic, he’d have to turn into the Tin Man. Even now her playful hair and matured features grabbed him in a place he’d rather forget. Yeah, the Tin Man approach was the only ticket regarding her working for him. Good thing his nasty breakup with Kimberley—how she’d dropped him like a bad virus when he’d chosen family medicine over a more prestigious specialty the fourth year of med school—had already taught him how to turn his heart to metal.
His cell phone blipped, bringing him back to the range. Jack had got the message.
Normally, Trevor would have thought to bring his fence-repair kit with him, but today he’d been so distracted by Julie’s news, it had taken all his brainpower just to saddle up and mount his horse. He glanced upward to a cloudless sky, then downrange, seeing hundreds of head of cattle roaming on snow-spotted land.
Getting a girl pregnant hadn’t been his plan that year. Not by a long shot. Hell, he’d just found out the week before his mother had had an abnormal endometrial biopsy and needed more tests. Worrying about her, and about how his first semester in competitive medical school would go, with his big brother’s exceptional brain to compete with, he’d decided to let off some steam that one last weekend, before he’d have to completely buckle down.
And he’d danced with the girl with wild hair and the biggest eyes he could remember.
Zebulon whinnied about something, and Trevor glanced up again. Jack was already heading to the fence and had nearly caught up to him. Who knew how long Trevor had been sitting on the range, staring and thinking?
The man waved as he approached, then stopped. “Thanks for the heads up. We can’t afford to have any more steer wander off. Not with the grey wolves showing up more and more in these parts.”
“Thanks.”
“Until we can budget for putting chips in our cattle, we’ll have to manage like we always have.” Branding and fences seemed so far out of date. Jack was in his early forties and kept up with modern ranching trends. Truth was, Tiberius—Monty—Montgomery was old-school, and not the least bit interested in learning new techniques, or utilizing software and technology for running his ranch. The man still insisted on keeping handwritten bookkeeping ledgers, which Trevor would have
