shook his head. “Just part of the year? Yeah, I know. Places to go, things to do. Your mother and I have long since given up any hope of being grandparents.”
“I know, Dad.” They’d had this conversation so many times Ben didn’t even feel the need to engage in it. He simply gave his stock answer. “I know it’s a disappointment to you, but that’s just the way it is.”
His father answered with a long-suffering sigh and went back to their original topic. “Who’s gonna take care of this place when you’re off on one of your projects, or chasing around the world on the next wild hare you get?”
Ben didn’t take offense. He and his dad would never see eye-to-eye. “Jason Littletrees is looking for someone.”
“He’ll find someone. The whole Littletrees family is involved with horses one way or another.”
“Yes. Hadn’t seen him in years, but we ran into each other at the Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival in Tuskahoma last fall. He was showing some mustangs there—”
“And you thought, ‘Great! Here’s another way to burn up some money.’”
“Dad.”
Jim looked chagrined. “Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction. Well, at least Jason is trustworthy, and I guess he’ll find someone who knows these mustangs.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I was happy with registered quarter horses and, since I don’t ride anymore, it doesn’t matter.” Jim stepped down, taking a moment to steady himself against the cedar rails.
“Is your leg bothering you?” Ben asked, forgetting about his horses for a minute. He hopped down from the fence to stand beside Jim.
“Nah, no worse than usual,” Jim answered with a shrug, but he bent over to rub his left knee. “Five years since I rolled my truck on that ice patch, and it doesn’t get any better. Doesn’t matter. I can still do what I need to do. As long as I can keep working, I’m happy.”
“I know, Dad.” It saddened Ben to think of his father never taking time for a vacation, or any kind of break, but as the old man said, “To each his own.”
“By the way,” Jim said, “Harley Morton’s been trying to get in touch with you. Did he find you?”
“Yes. I talked to him today.”
“What did he want?”
Ben stifled a laugh. His dad absolutely couldn’t help himself. He had to be involved in everything, know everything. “He wants me to run a football camp this summer. Apparently he’s convinced Wolfchild Whitmire that they need to do this out at the Whitmires’ old campground.”
Jim snorted with laughter. “How many footballs do you think will go flying into their lake?”
“Probably more than the city budget can afford.”
“You gonna do it?”
“If I can fit it into my schedule.”
“Good. That’ll keep you around for a while longer. Give you some useful work to do.”
Ben only shrugged.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of work, I’ve got things to do at home, son. I’ll talk to you later.” With a wave, Jim headed for his truck, then paused and glanced back. “Wild mustangs. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” He climbed into the truck’s cab and drove away.
Ben gazed after his dad and knew that, physically, at least, he was looking at himself in forty years. But he was determined to have a different focus in his life. His dad had raised cattle, bought and sold land, operated a construction company and a gravel-mining operation, and run a few other businesses. He’d achieved his goal of financial comfort long ago but still worked nonstop.
Ben knew his mom wanted to travel, see something of the world before old age came calling. She was only sixty but saw life passing her by because Jim wouldn’t slow down long enough to have any fun. Ben had taken his mother to Europe and to Thailand. Even though she’d enjoyed the trips, she’d really wanted her husband there to share it, but Jim had insisted he had to work.
His dad was the reason Ben had long ago made the decision that work wouldn’t rule his life.
Ben’s goal was to enjoy life, to travel, meet new people and make friends all over the world, start businesses, fund projects. He’d done a good job of investing the money he’d made playing professional football. Now he considered his job to be to spend it wisely but in fun ways. He knew his reputation around his hometown was that he was something of a squanderer, but he didn’t care. It was his life and his money. Anyone who cared to look carefully could see that he spent his money to benefit others, but he wasn’t going to advertise the fact.
As he walked back to the house, he took out his phone and checked his calendar. His attention was caught by the sound of tires crunching on gravel. A dark red, sporty sedan was heading toward him. He frowned for a second as he tried to see who was driving, then grinned.
So his visit to Lisa’s office had paid off. But he was surprised she’d come out to his ranch.
He watched as Lisa pulled her car to a stop and looked up to meet his eyes. Her solemn expression, the twin of the one she’d given him earlier in her office, made him pause before he walked over to open her door and hold out his hand to help her out.
She stood, somewhat unsteadily, smoothed the short, black wool jacket she wore with matching slacks, and braced herself in the door opening. Finally she looked at him. Her lips flickered in the faintest smile. “Hello, Ben.”
“Hey, Lisa. Thanks for coming over. I would have called, headed back to your office. You didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to,” she said, stepping aside so that he could close the door behind her.
Something about her complete shift in attitude made his words stumble. “Um, yeah. I wanted to see if you were okay after your aunt’s death...and...well, you know...everything that happened.” Ben felt embarrassed heat climb his throat. “But you didn’t respond.”
“I know.” She glanced away, apparently distraught. Her face was as pale as it had been earlier and her eyes seemed sunken. “I was hoping we could start this conversation again.”
“Yes, sure, but are you okay?” he asked, reaching to take her arm.
At last she met his gaze. “Can we go inside, Ben? I have something...important to tell you.”
“PREGNANT?” BEN STARED at her, swallowed, then stared some more. “And...it’s mine?”
“Of course it is!” Lisa fought down a burst of hysteria. “You don’t think I go around sleeping with—”
“Of course not. Of course not,” he answered hastily, holding up his hands, palms outward. “But...we used protection.”
Hearing him say exactly what she’d said to Gemma and Carly a few days ago didn’t make her feel any better. “I know.”
He sat forward, as if all the strength had been drained from him, and rested his forearms on his thighs. Looking down, and then up, he seemed to struggle to form a sentence.
Lisa knew this wasn’t at all the conversation he’d expected to be having when he’d come to her office. She wondered if that was the last lunch invitation she’d ever receive from him.
Unable to meet his shocked gaze anymore, Lisa looked away, taking in the shabby living room she’d last entered late in September when she’d handled the sale of the ranch to him. The house looked as bad as ever, but she’d been so agitated when she’d driven