“I’m sorry, Deacon,” Ava repeated, her voice tinged with regret.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, determination burning in his eyes. “You’re sorry? All you had to do was pick up the damn phone. I want to know my daughter.”
“I don’t think—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. I will be a part of her life. One way or the other.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ava’s voice wavered.
“If you try to keep her from me, I’ll file for custody.” His words were like a thunderclap, loud and unyielding.
Ava gasped, the color draining from her face. “You can’t do that.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“I didn’t list you as the father.” She growled, frustration bubbling over.
“That doesn’t matter! Who did you list?”
“No one. I told them I refused to tell them.”
“A simple DNA test will confirm it. I’ll do what I have to. In the meantime, I’ll talk to your father about the case, but this is not over. Far from it.” His voice carried the weight of a promise, one thatwould not be easily broken. With one final look at her, he left the kitchen to meet Rudy in the living room.
****
Ava let out a deep breath as she watched Deacon walking away. Those Wranglers he wore definitely showed off his tight ass, and she was very familiar with it. She hoped he would never find out about Ellie but in all fairness, he was her father and he deserved to know.
She knew he was pissed, and he had every right to be. She’d made a big mistake by not telling him. Whether he was interested in knowing Ellie or not, he should have been given a choice whether to see her or not. It would have been his decision about seeing Ellie, not hers.
After making a cup of coffee, she sat at the kitchen table, toying with the mug. She was startled when he came back into the kitchen, lifted his hat from the peg, opened the door, stepped out, and slammed the door behind him. Without even glancing her way. Yep, he was pissed.
“Ava?”
Ava sighed and turned to face her father. “I know what you’re going to say, Dad.”
“Do you? How could you do that to him? He had a right to know he had a child.”
“I know. I guess I didn’t want him to feel obligated.”
“Bullshit. Any man who fathers a childshouldbe obligated. Agent Anderson seemed visibly upset.”
“Yes, he did. I’ll talk with him once he coolsdown a little.”
“That could be a while. I think right now, he’s in shock.”
“Yeah. I’ll take Ellie home.”
“Alright, honey.”
Ava kissed his cheek, then went to get Ellie from her playpen. After picking her up, she grabbed the diaper bag and walked out the door, across the yard, and to her little home she shared with her daughter behind the barn. Thank God, her father had built her the home, and it was far enough away from the barn. Cattle could smell bad, and she didn’t need to wake up every day smelling that, she thought with a smile.
She stepped inside her home and let the door thud shut behind her. A rush of cool, conditioned air washed over her, and she drew in a long, relieved breath. She set Ellie on the floor with her dolls then slid onto the deep–cushioned sofa, she pressed her temples with her fingertips and wondered what would happen now that Deacon Anderson knew her secret. Her thoughts drifted back to their first meeting at the Montana Cattlemen’s Convention in Billings almost three years ago…
The exhibition hall had been alive with the low rumble of men in Stetsons swapping stories over stale coffee and folding–chair chatter. She had scanned the crowded floor, then suddenly, there he was, tall, broad shouldered, moving with quiet assurance among the throng,stopping occasionally to talk with someone. His honey-colored eyes caught hers; his thick, dark hair peeking out from under his hat. Her pulse skittered as she watched him smile at the womanhe was talking with. She watched him say something to the woman, then excuse himself and cut through the cluster of onlookers.
He strode straight toward her, almost a head taller than most men there, boots clicking on the concrete floor. Women paused mid–conversation, visibly impressed by his presence. When he stopped in front of her, she felt warmth bloom in her cheeks.
“Hi,” he said, his voice smooth, a low drawl laced with Montana grit. The curve of his mouth made her throat go dry.
