cut him any slack. “Why? Because you think I’ll screw that up, too?”
When his father didn’t respond, Matt turned on his own booted heel. “I’m out of here.” He threw himself into his vehicle, fired up the engine and exited the ranch at a much faster pace than he’d arrived.
As far as Clint Stephens was concerned, his middle son had no redeeming qualities. Just wait until he found out about Kenzie. The fact that Matt had fathered a child out of wedlock would only amplify the old man’s belief that Matt was nothing but a failure, unworthy of his father’s love. And as much as it killed Matt to admit it, even to himself, that’s the one thing he desperately wanted.
Matt could not be Kenzie’s father. That’s all there was to it.
Darkness had already settled over Ouray as Lacie stood at the stove in her mother’s kitchen, stirring noodles into the beef Stroganoff, its savory aroma filling the air. While she welcomed the opportunity to cook for more than just herself and Kenzie, the task did little to distract her from the annoying thoughts that had plagued her brain all day. How could one brief meeting have Matt believing he was Kenzie’s father? Talk about nerve.
“I’m hungry.” Kenzie approached from the living room, where an educational cartoon had held her attention for the past twenty minutes.
“I know, sweetie.” Lacie put the lid on the skillet, annoyed that she’d wasted most of her day, mentally rehashing last night’s conversation with Matt instead of interacting with Kenzie. “How about a piece of string cheese to tide you over until Grandma gets home?”
“Okay.” Her niece beamed at the prospect. “Can I play with my ponies?”
Lacie opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cheese stick. “You like those, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” Kenzie nodded, accepting her snack.
She had to hand it to her mother, she’d done a good job anticipating what toys Kenzie would and would not like. “Then yes, you may. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
“Okay.” She grinned up at Lacie with a smile that reached her big brown eyes. Eyes not at all like Marissa’s or even Grant’s. Instead, they reminded Lacie of—
No. She shut the refrigerator door with a little too much force, rattling its contents. She wasn’t going to go there because it wasn’t true. Grant was Kenzie’s father, even if he was a deadbeat dad.
While Kenzie played and they waited for Mom to get home from the shop, Lacie seized the opportunity to focus on something besides Matt. She crossed to the table and opened her laptop to check those job listings she’d planned to research last night before she’d been so rudely interrupted. Yet even as she stared at the computer screen, her thoughts kept returning to Matt. To the pain and conviction in his dark eyes.
She let go a groan and returned to the stove to give the Stroganoff another stir. This was ridiculous. If Matt had been Kenzie’s father, Marissa would have told her. There were no secrets between them. They—
She froze. Kenzie’s birth certificate. She had Kenzie’s birth certificate in her files in the bedroom. Strange that she thought to keep it close by in case she needed it, yet had never taken the time to look over the document.
Quickly replacing the lid, she set the wooden spoon on its rest and started down the hall. Grant would be listed as Kenzie’s father on the birth certificate, putting this nonsense to rest once and for all.
Inside her old bedroom, she opened the closet door and grabbed the plastic file box that contained all of her and Kenzie’s important documents and set it on the bed. She lifted the plastic lid and fingered past shot records, guardianship papers and tax records until she located the folder labeled Birth Certificates.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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