Her Single Dad Hero

“I see. Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’ll work till noon,” he told her. “Then we’d planned to grab lunch in town and go shopping after that. Sound okay to you?”

To his surprise, she nodded. “Sounds fine. Thanks. I’ll be ready.”

“Saturday it is,” he told her, turning away again. He climbed up into the cab and tried not to be too obvious about watching her walk back to her truck.

Something about the way a woman walked in a pair of jeans and boots, even ugly boots, made a man sit up and take notice. Like he hadn’t noticed before this. To his disgust, he’d noticed when she’d worn a softball uniform and cleats. Not that it mattered. The woman was engaged to be married, after all, and on her way back to Dallas and her hotshot career as soon as her dad could do without her.

Sighing, Dean straightened his sunglasses as his son ran toward him, hauling the heavy water jug by its handle. He reached down a hand for the water jug as Donovan shoved it toward him. He stashed the jug in a corner then helped Donovan scramble up into the cab of the harvester before following him and settling into the operator’s seat.

Donovan leaned against his back and said straight into his ear, “She sure is pretty, ain’t she, Dad?”

He meant Ann, of course. Donovan had been playing pint-size matchmaker since Ann had literally caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. For the past year or more, since he’d come to understand what going to school really meant, Donovan had gone on the lookout for a mom. Dean figured it was as much concern about him being on his own during the time Donovan would be in school as it was the boy’s natural desire for a mother. The boy didn’t realize that most husbands and wives spent relatively little time together and that almost no fathers were blessed with the almost constant companionship of their children.

Dean mentally sorted through a number of possible replies, everything from correcting Donovan’s grammar to playing dumb. In the end he chose casual honesty.

“She’s pretty.”

“And you like red hair, don’cha?”

“I do. But you realize that she doesn’t actually live here, right?”

“Huh?”

“She’s just visiting, son. Before long she’ll go on back to where she came from and stay there.”

“Huh. Is it a long ways off?”

“Yep. Afraid so.”

Only a few hours away by car. Worlds away by every other measure.

But then that had always been the way with him and Ann Billings.

Donovan couldn’t know that, of course.

Dean hoped that he never would.

Chapter Four (#uc6611ddc-0efd-54a8-a0cf-4149be4dfd66)

Jordan laughed when Ann told him about her boot-shopping experience, but not for the same reason that Dean had laughed.

“Why bother?” he asked during their phone conversation that evening. “You’re only going to be there a few weeks. It’s a foolish waste of money and time.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you could see the fields here. I can’t wear my good shoes in this red dirt. They’ll be ruined!”

“I suppose you have a point,” Jordan grudgingly conceded. “I don’t understand why the hired help can’t handle things there, though. You have an important job here, and your family ought to realize that.”

“Nothing is more important than my father’s health, Jordan,” she pointed out, “and the ranch hands work the livestock. They know little about the crops, especially now that Dad and Rex are moving into organic production.”

“And what do you know about it?” he demanded.

“Only what I’ve been told,” she admitted, “but someone has to give the orders, Jordan. I’m needed here. At least until Rex returns or Dad gets better. I thought you understood that.”

He made a gusting sound. Then he said, “I guess I just miss you. We didn’t have much time together before your brother’s wedding pushed everything forward.”

“The wedding didn’t push things forward that much,” she replied lightly before changing the subject. “Speaking of weddings, I’ve been thinking about a date for ours.”

“Oh, I have, too,” Jordan said briskly. “A date opened up here at the hotel for the last Saturday of July, and I think we should take it.”

Ann bolted upright on the leather sofa in the living room of the ranch house. “The end of July! But that’s...” She quickly did the mental math, torn between elation and panic. “That’s eleven days away!”

“Eleven days and a year,” he corrected, chortling. “Surely you didn’t think I meant this year? You said you wanted a traditional wedding, after all. That takes time.”

Ann blinked, feeling suddenly deflated. “Right. Of course. How silly of me.” She slumped back onto the sofa, frowning.

Her brother, Rex, and Callie had waited only a matter of days to marry. She’d thought their wedding a paltry thing compared to Rex’s first one, but she couldn’t deny that she’d never before seen the kind of joy on her brother’s face that she saw when he looked at Callie. She knew that he regretted the failure of his first marriage, and she thanked God that he’d been given a second chance with Callie.

“There’s always the possibility that the Copley-Mains wedding will be rescheduled and we’ll have to pick another date,” Jordan said. “I’m told that Samantha Copley changes her mind every other day.”

“Oh,” Ann mumbled. “Yes. I expect she’ll change her mind in the middle of the ceremony.”

“Well, we’ll take the date anyway, and if she changes her mind again we’ll adjust,” he said lightly before changing the subject to business.

They spent the next hour talking about hotel issues before someone called Jordan away to handle something unexpected. Something unexpected was always coming up. That was why the manager lived on-site. Ann had tried to maintain a separate residence at first but had quickly realized the futility of it.

She went to bed that night feeling uneasy, though she couldn’t say why. She and Jordan were a good match. She loved him, and Jordan was eager to marry her. Wasn’t he?

Of course he was! He’d made that abundantly clear. She smiled, telling herself that she was going to dream about her wedding.

Instead, she dreamed about a dog performing tricks and protecting a freckle-faced little redhead on command. And the tall, blond, blue-eyed trainer who so obviously devoted himself to that little redhead. She woke in the morning both dreading and looking forward to the shopping trip to come.

No doubt, Callie would have offered to make lunch for Dean and Donovan, but Ann hadn’t had much experience in the kitchen. She could open a can, build a passable sandwich and operate the microwave, but she’d followed a recipe only a few times in her life, with mixed results. Meri was more domestic, having spent more time with their mother while Ann had hero-worshipped their older brother and done her best to compete with him.

Nine years her senior, Rex had always been patient with her—to a point, and Ann had always pushed to keep up with or even surpass her big brother. Only later did she realize how unattractive men found women who could and did compete with them. No matter how often she prayed that God would help her suppress her masculine traits, no matter how hard she tried to be more feminine, she just couldn’t seem to overcome these undesirable tendencies. Still, she felt compelled to try.

Thankfully, Jordan seemed not to see that side of her. He knew her deepest, darkest secrets, and they didn’t seem to matter to him. He valued her as a competent manager and organizer, and he obviously found no fault with her looks. They had much in common when it came to their careers and lifestyles. He’d seemed unconcerned when she’d told him that she wanted to wait till they were married to be together as man and wife, and had said that he wasn’t currently a man of faith, but was open to Christianity, and promised that they could discuss it later when they had more time. She’d told herself that was a good sign.

Dean knew her from before, though. She already had a deficit to overcome with him. She couldn’t risk spoiling lunch. So, after a longer than usual run and a light breakfast, she took her time dressing. She styled her hair with hot rollers and carefully applied makeup. She chose a pale floral lace tank top with skinny jeans and vanilla, leather spike heels. Once convinced that she appeared as feminine as possible for the task at hand, she went to the office and waited, going over the books and internet articles that Rex had left for her.

She heard footsteps on the porch at a few minutes past noon and was at the front door when the first knock sounded. Opening it the next instant, she greeted Dean with a smile. He wore a clean chambray shirt with the cuffs of his sleeves rolled back and the neck open. The blue heightened the gem-like color of his eyes, and the pale straw of his hat looked very much like the color of his blond hair. He was an amazingly attractive man, even in faded, dusty denim.

Next to him, Donovan wore a blue-and-green striped shirt, baggy jeans and a big smile. He looked up at her and proclaimed, “You look real pretty!”

Ann found that little-boy smile more and more difficult to resist. “Thank you, Donovan.”

Dean looked her over and said, “Especially like the shoes.”