not every woman in the world thinks you’re irresistible.”
“You did.”
Her voice rose. “I was drunk.”
“So was I,” he countered, giving it right back to her.
“Hold on, now! What’s going on in here?” Mr. Riddell growled as he slowly entered the entryway, looking as if each step was paining him something awful.
“Nothing, Dad,” Trent muttered.
His dad ignored him. Instead, he looked straight at her. Then smiled. “Jolene Arnold, is that you?”
“Yes, sir. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Riddell.”
Trent looked as if he was about to pop a gasket. “Dad, really. This ain’t a good time—”
That was really the wrong thing to say. Mr. Riddell glared at Trent. “Hush, son. Now, Jolene, you better get on over here and give me a hug.”
Jolene picked up the carrier, stepped around the sputtering cowboy, and greeted Cal Riddell Sr. as though they were old friends.
Because that was what they were.
When they parted, Mr. Riddell said, “What brings you over here?”
“I came to see Trent.”
“Oh?” He looked at Trent curiously. “You didn’t tell me she was coming by.”
Trent glared at her. “I didn’t think she was going to be staying long.”
“I won’t stay long. All I needed to do was talk to you about Amanda Rose.”
Mr. Riddell grinned at the baby. “So you’re a mother now?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I am.”
After a pause, Mr. Riddell slipped an arm around Jolene’s shoulders and guided her into a swanky living room. When they stopped in front of a suede couch, he peered down at the baby. “She’s a beauty, Jo. Amanda Rose, you said?”
“Yes, sir.” Looking over her shoulder at Trent, who was standing in the doorway as though he was loitering, she raised an eyebrow.
He stared at her and scowled.
So she did the honors. “Mr. Riddell, her name is Amanda Rose Riddell.”
Mr. Riddell’s expression didn’t waver a bit. Looking fondly at the baby, he leaned a little closer and ran one finger over Amanda’s soft cheek. “Look at those eyes. Why, they are bluer than blue.” He stopped abruptly and shot a good long look her way. “I’m sorry … what did you say?”
“Amanda is a Riddell. She’s your granddaughter,” she said softly. Feeling embarrassed and proud and suddenly shy.
Mr. Riddell stilled. “Trent?”
“We don’t know that for sure. She just sprang the news on me,” he said as he stepped forward. “Dammit, Jo. You’re really going to do this … really?”
“Like I said, I’ve been trying to let you know. I must have called you two dozen times. But you wouldn’t pick up the phone. She’s your baby. She’s our baby.”
Trent looked pale as a ghost. “She might be mine. We won’t know for certain until she gets tested.”
“What?”
“I mean, I get tested,” he sputtered. “Shit. I mean, hell, Jo. We gotta get a paternity test.”
“Really? You think I’m making this up?”
“I mean there’s no telling who the daddy is. Could be anyone …”
“Trent Wallace, you better watch your mouth …”
Slamming a palm on top of a very expensive coffee table, Mr. Riddell’s voice turned low. “Enough of this nonsense. Look at her eyes, Trent. She’s yours. Even if you don’t believe me, those eyes ought to tell you the truth.”
“She really is yours, Trent,” Jo tried to explain. “I promise, I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
“And I’m telling you, I need proof.”
When Trent stepped closer, his father looked him over as though he was no better than slime under a boot. “I’ve rarely been so disappointed in a son, Trent. You make this right.”
Jolene’s mouth went dry as Trent slumped right there in front of them both.
As she was trying to get her mind wrapped around that, Mr. Riddell engulfed her in a wiry hug. “She’s a beautiful baby, Jolene. You should be proud.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How ‘bout you start calling me Cal? We’re relatives, now,” he said with a wink.
“Yes, sir. I mean, Cal.”
He gave her another pat. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. Everything’s going to be just fine, now. You’re no longer alone.”
Just like that, her eyes filled with tears. Trent’s dad had known exactly the right words to say.
After pressing a kiss to her brow, he stepped away and glared at Trent one more time. “You and me will talk later.”
When they were alone, Trent practically collapsed on the couch. “Great job, Jolene. Couldn’t you have waited to involve my dad until I had at least two minutes to process the news?”
“This isn’t my fault. You were there, too.”
“Oh, I know.” He ran a hand over his cheeks. “From what I recall, anyway.” As the minutes ticked by, he rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. “What do you want? Money?”
No way did she want to go lower in his estimation and be the trashy girl who was seeking him out only for money. She might not be the next June Cleaver, but she sure as hell wasn’t that girl, either.
“I’m not sure.”
“Come on, darlin’. You had to have had something in mind when you called me up and drove over here. I mean, good job. You got what you wanted, huh?”
Chin up, she stared right back at him. Oh, she hated that vaguely condescending, holier-than-thou tone of voice. No, she hadn’t been a virgin when they’d gone at it all night long. But dammit, he hadn’t been, either. Sometimes the double standards were enough to drive her nuts.
His eyes narrowed as the baby made a cute little cooing noise.
And because the only thing Jolene had ever had going for her was too much sass, she smiled. “I didn’t plan on having a baby. But I did. And I don’t regret it. Amanda Rose is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I’m proud of her. I’m her momma and I’m always going to be here for her. Always.”
