his uncle asked.
If it were up to Ty, the cane would be tossed into the recycle bin. He rarely used it now, though his physical therapist wanted him to. But after today’s exercises, he needed to ice the muscles around his knee before getting along with his day.
“No tougher than any other,” he assured his uncle, leaving the cane by the door and hanging his Stetson on the hat hook. There were four of them there now, for any of the dude ranch’s guests who came to visit the main house’s kitchen.
“Still smells like paint in here,” his uncle grumbled.
“You wanted to keep the wooden door. It needed a facelift.”
“And that stainless-steel stove and refrigerator make me want to close my eyes when I come in here in the morning. It’s so damn bright.”
That was an exaggeration if Ty ever heard one, but he could tell his uncle was in a complaining mood.
“You like the new touch faucet, though, don’t you?”
His uncle glanced at it and scowled. “I liked that old white porcelain sink just fine. And in my day, a spigot for hot and a spigot for cold was all I needed. Now we’ve got that fancy sprayer and a filtered water tap.” Eli shook his head.
“Any complaints about the new guest cabins?” Ty asked, amused by his uncle’s rant.
“If somebody wants to stay here, they should be happy with the bunkhouse,” Eli muttered.
“You can’t expect a family to stay in a bunkhouse, even if we did give it an overhaul and a more refined look. Single guys who come for the ranch experience can bunk with the hands there. But what if we get a couple who wants to explore the area on horseback for their honeymoon?”
“So you want to provide a love nest?” Eli sounded aghast at that thought.
“I want to provide a cozy cabin where they’ll be happy so they spread the word to their friends and we get even more guests. Instead of all these changes, would you have rather sold the Cozy C?”
They’d had the conversation many times since Eli had confessed the state of the ranch while Ty was still in Houston. Ty supposed his uncle hadn’t wanted him to return and be shocked by what he found. And Ty would have been. When he returned two months ago, the place had been sorely run-down. The tax collector had been on Eli’s doorstep for the past year. With his bull riding winnings tucked into a bank account, Ty had been able to think, plan and move fast—from his rehab facility in Houston. He and his uncle had spent long sleepless nights over this decision before renovations started, but there really had been no other choice but to turn the Cozy C into an income-generating ranch.
Now Eli took a long swig of coffee, then set down his mug with a thump. “I still don’t like the idea of using all your winnings for this. You could have had a sweet retirement fund.”
“That’s a long way off.”
At twenty-nine, Ty had plenty of years to worry about retirement. If they could make a success of the Cozy C, he and his uncle would both be set.
“This place is going to be great, Unc. You’ll see.”
Eli pushed his chair back, stood, and went to the new sink. “All I see is you working day and night when you should still be recuperating.”
“I’m done recuperating. Haven’t you noticed?”
Eli turned and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know if you’ve ever started.”
Ty wasn’t even going to ask what that meant, though his uncle was probably referring to his childhood, not just the bull riding accident. Ty had spent the first few years of his life in Texas. Vague memories that had to do with dust and heat and hills sometimes shadowed his dreams. His dad had ridden the circuit and his mom, well, she’d gotten tired of the whole thing—the dust, the heat, as well as being alone and taking care of a child all by herself. One weekend, when his dad had come home between rodeos, she’d announced she was leaving. Not only leaving, but she was leaving Ty with his dad.
His father hadn’t had a clue how to take care of a four-year-old, so he’d called his brother Eli. In no time, the two had moved to Fawn Grove, California, and the Cozy C. Once they had, his dad had gone on the circuit again. He’d been killed by an ornery bull a few years later. Maybe Ty had gone into bull riding to prove he wouldn’t have the same fate.
No, not the same. A different one.
Needing to change the topic of conversation, Ty went to the coffeepot and filled his own mug. Standing there as casually as he could, he said offhandedly, “I ran into Marissa Lopez in town.”
“That gal who turned your head when you were in high school?”
“She didn’t turn my head. She was two years younger and—”
Eli cut in and waved his hand. “Never no mind. Just stay away from her. She had a baby with no dad in sight. You don’t want to get tangled up in that kind of complication.”
She’d had a baby? That’s why she was involved in The Mommy Club.
“How old’s her baby?” Ty asked.
“A year, maybe a couple of months more. It’s not like I keep track of everybody in town.”
A year? Fourteen months? His heart pounded in his ears.
His uncle acted as if he didn’t keep track, but Eli often drove into the diner for breakfast, and he and his cohorts gossiped as much as any women’s group. They knew the comings and goings. They knew the old-time residents. They knew who was new. They just knew.
Making quick calculations in his head, Ty didn’t like what he came up with. If her baby was a couple of months over a year old, and it took nine months to have a baby...
That would put the night of conception right about when he and Marissa had hooked up after the wedding.
He hoped he was totally mistaken. The thing was, he had to find out...and soon.
* * *
Ty didn’t like the looks of the apartment building at all. It was shabby, like the landlord could care less about it. Its pale yellow stucco had seen too much sun. The pavement was cracked under Ty’s boots as he walked around the back of the building to the apartments on that side. Checking the address on his phone again, he saw that Marissa’s apartment was the middle one, on the second floor. He mounted the stairs and the finish of the railing came off like powder on his hand. Sure, maybe he’d stay in a place like this on a long rodeo stint, but it was no place for a mother and a child. He imagined Marissa was living here because she could afford the rent. Still...
Just where did Marissa work? Did she make enough money to support her and her baby? Was there a guy in the picture now?
He remembered again the wedding they’d attended in nearby Sacramento. They’d been on opposite sides of the aisle in the church, he on the groom’s side and she on the bride’s. But he’d ended up behind her in the receiving line and they’d taken seats at the same table at the dinner. They’d talked some, laughed at high school escapades they’d remembered. They’d shared the bride and groom’s happiness as the couple had exchanged pieces of cake and then danced. That’s when the real night had started for him and Marissa. He’d asked her to dance.
That dance...
It had started the rest of the night.
At the top of the stairs, he stood at her door, which was decorated with a wreath of autumn leaves, nuts and gourds, not knowing exactly the right way to handle this. Maybe there was no right way.
He pressed the doorbell, but when he didn’t hear it ring, he knocked. It was after six. She should be home having dinner, taking care of her baby.
When she opened the door, he saw that she’d changed from the beige slacks and cream shirt into worn jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed