the way across polished cedar floors to a pair of comfortable-looking leather couches that flanked a massive stone fireplace.
“Lisa, this is my husband Ty Parker,” Sarah said as the group seated in the chairs stood.
Reading a warm welcome in the dark eyes of the man with sandy hair, Lisa smiled in return. “Thank you so much for letting me come tonight.”
“We’re glad to have you.” Tiny crows’ feet at the corners of Ty’s eyes deepened as he prodded the young boy at his side forward. “This is Jimmy. Say hello, son.”
“Hi!” The freckle-faced kid aimed a toothy grin her way. Somewhat awkwardly, he reached out. “Pleased to meet you.”
“What a handsome young man,” Lisa said as they shook hands.
When Jimmy’s cheeks reddened and he stepped back, Ty clapped a hand on the back of the man beside him. “Lisa, meet Garrett Judd, manager of the Circle P. It was his mom you spoke with in town yesterday.” He turned to the taller man. “Where is Doris?”
Garrett’s lips thinned. “She’ll be down in a minute,” he all but growled.
“Hi,” Lisa said, and gave herself points for keeping her bright smile in place despite the man’s dark look. “You must be Bree’s dad. She’s a sweetie.”
Garrett’s scowl only deepened. “Bree’s my niece. My brother Colt’s daughter.”
“Oh.” Lisa searched the other faces in the room for clues to the reason for this man’s curtness, but Jimmy had Sarah’s attention, while Ty only gave the manager a bland stare. She pressed forward. “And LJ?”
“He’s mine,” Garrett announced plainly.
Lisa tried to ignore the longing that stirred whenever the conversation turned to babies. “He’s adorable. But I’m sure you and your wife hear that all the time.”
Like an awkwardly constructed song, silence stretched out for several beats before Garrett stuck out his hand. No warm hugs from him, Lisa thought. The guy had attitude written all over him. Which didn’t keep her from appreciating the thick black hair that drifted onto his forehead, the clean lines of a square face, or the fact that, even at five-ten, she had to look up to meet his blue eyes. Blue eyes that pinned her with an icy stare.
She swallowed as her palm met his. A single pump and Garrett broke the contact, making her wonder why the long fingers and rough calluses of such an obvious grouch sent a prickle of awareness up her arm.
Jimmy broke the tension that swirled through the room by tugging on his dad’s shirt sleeve. “Can I go say goodnight to Niceta now?”
Glad for the excuse to look away from Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding, Lisa turned her attention to the boy. “Niceta? That’s a pretty name.”
“She’s my horse,” Jimmy said, his chest puffing out the tiniest bit. “I’m raising her all by myself. Aren’t I, Dad?”
“Maybe with a little help from time to time.” Ty gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Have you finished your homework? Brushed your teeth?” When his son nodded, he continued, “All right, but don’t dawdle. You have school tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t.” Jimmy ran out the door with the exuberance that only a young boy could muster.
“School?” Lisa frowned. She’d need to move forward with her plans to offer music lessons if the local schools were in session already. “They start before Labor Day down here?”
Sarah stepped in. “Mid-August.”
“Because of hurricane season,” Ty added. “If we get a big one, the kids are likely to miss a week of class. Maybe longer.”
“But not this year, right?” Sarah leaned down to rap on the wooden coffee table. Rising, she met Lisa’s eyes. “You don’t have children?”
“No,” Lisa said, unable to mask a wistful look. “We tried—well, everything—before my husband and I separated.” She summoned a hopeful smile. “Maybe one day.”
“I give thanks for Jimmy and our foster children, Chris and Tim.” Sarah cleared her throat and looked at her husband. “Speaking of which, don’t you think you ought to keep Jimmy company, Ty? Otherwise, you know he’ll be out there all night.”
“What can I say?” Ty shrugged, looking only slightly abashed. “He’s a Parker. He loves horses. We all do.” He grabbed a cowboy hat from a peg near the entry. “Lisa, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a bit.”
The door barely clicked shut behind him before footsteps on the balcony overlooking the great room drew Lisa’s attention. She stared in dismay as Doris emerged from a room carrying LJ. Her plans to arrive long after the baby was down for the night in shambles, Lisa stifled a groan.
“You’re here! I’m so glad you came.” Doris hurried down the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other hugging her grandson. She reached the bottom step and made a beeline for her son. “Here, hold him for a minute,” she said, thrusting the boy into Garrett’s hands.
Two seconds later, with Doris’s fleshy arms enveloping her, Lisa wondered how long it would take to adjust to the Southern habit of exchanging hugs instead of handshakes.
Stepping back, Garrett’s mother surveyed the group. “I see you’ve met everyone. Did anyone offer you something to drink? Iced tea or coffee? Something stronger?”
Lisa swept a glance at the collection of coffee cups and tall glasses on the low table between the couches. “An iced tea would be nice.”
“I’ll get it,” Garrett said abruptly.
Dangling from his father’s stiff arms, the baby kicked pajama-clad feet. The urge to cradle the little one against her chest surged within Lisa, but the boy’s dad held his child as if he was afraid he might get a bit of drool on the cowboy shirt that stretched tightly across an impressive chest. At length, he took a deep breath and leaned in just far enough to plant a single, graceless kiss on the baby’s smooth forehead. When LJ beamed wetly at him, Lisa swore something flickered in the man’s blue eyes. But instead of cuddling his young son, Garrett’s expression hardened until the muscles along his jaw pulsed. The baby twisted, the fabric of his pj’s slipping until it bunched around tiny shoulders. His little face crumpled.
Before LJ could cry, Garrett shoved the boy toward Doris. “Take him,” he said, his voice gruff.
Emotion deepened the lines on Doris’s face in the brief moment before she reached for the child. “C’mere, LJ,” she cooed at last. “That’s my sweetheart.”
Watching the interplay, Lisa fought to keep her own expression neutral, her confusion hidden. How could a father be so harsh with his own flesh and blood when she’d have given all the money she had—all the money she’d ever have—for a baby of her own?
Garrett’s boot heels clomped noisily across the wooden floor.
“You’ll have to excuse my son,” Doris whispered as she turned her back on the retreating figure. “He lost his wife soon after this little one was born.” She patted the plump bottom of the
