Finding His Lone Star Love (Harlequin Special Edition) Read online

  Sam’s heart had fallen straight to the bottom of his shoes at the news. It had taken a weekend of pacing his town house, racking his brain to figure out what needed to be done. Maybe Jennifer had abandoned the girl, but Sam, now that he knew of her, had no intention of doing the same. He’d been irresponsible and foolish as a young man, but he’d done his best to change his ways, and he wouldn’t turn away from this obligation. He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to.

  Moreover, how could Jennifer have kept this from him? How stubborn must she have been to handle the news on her own? Sure, he was young and foolish back then, but he would have been there for Jennifer and their daughter. He would have done everything he could have to help raise their child. He would never have given up on his own kid.

  The road began to narrow and Sam’s thoughts dissipated. This had to be it. The Lonestar Observatory. He had no real idea what his daughter was doing there. Her location was all the PI had been able to find so far, and he’d assured Sam that the records he’d been able to locate regarding Sam’s daughter pointed to the observatory. It looked, he’d said, as if she might even live there, though the reason for that, like so much else, was still unknown. But in his mind, all Sam could think about was: what could a twelve-year-old be doing spending so much time at a science center? The whole thing was a mystery he’d just begun to unfold. Who knew what other secrets would turn up?

  He had to find out all he could about her, regardless of what that might involve.

  He turned his rental truck into the winding road that marked the way to his destination. He could see large white objects almost the size of buildings spotting the green land, though he assumed given where he was that they had to be telescopes. Even in his haste, and despite his fatigue from driving so far, Sam sensed a quiet beauty about the place. Clusters of trees blanketed acre upon acre with the white stargazers dotting the landscape here and there, like some kind of industrial flower. Sam didn’t know anything about astronomy, but if that’s what his daughter was interested in, he would find a way to be interested, too.

  He would do just about anything to get to know her, but he’d also have to be careful. He couldn’t let her, or anyone who knew her, find out his relationship to her before he was ready—before she was ready. He’d give himself just a week to check on her, even if only from a distance; he’d make sure she was doing okay and getting along well, that she was safe and healthy and cared for, and then he would head home and decide how to proceed. He’d researched his legal rights, but he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt his daughter. If his child didn’t want anything to do with him, he supposed he’d somehow have to make his peace with that, but he was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t have to face such a thing.

  The trees thinned as he reached what must have been the main building, and Sam pulled into a space in the parking lot out front next to a couple of school buses. His heart climbed into his throat and breathing was suddenly difficult.

  Despite the hours spent planning, going over what he would say and how he would explain his abrupt arrival, his mouth went dry as reality closed in. Maybe his friends were right—maybe he was some kind of crazy for jumping into this headfirst. He’d had plenty of miles now to think about how he’d chosen to handle things. Patience had never been his strong suit, and even Sam had to admit that maybe this wasn’t the most intelligent move. But what if... What if he’d had a phone number and called instead—and been refused? Sam swallowed at the painful idea. At least this way he could see her, and give her a chance to choose whether or not she wanted him to be a part of her life.

  Regardless of whether he was allowed to be a dad, Sam was a father now, and he’d followed his instincts—for that he would make no apology. If he had any say in the matter, he would make sure that his daughter didn’t grow up without a dad. At least not any longer.

  He’d made his choice and he wasn’t going back, and he’d start by getting out of the truck. Then he would walk to the front door. One step at a time, he’d make his way into his daughter’s life, and hope that she’d eventually allow him to stick around.

  * * *

  “Well,” said Santa Claus, or, as the nameplate on his cherrywood desk indicated, Dr. Edward Blake, “I’m the official director of the observatory, but if you want more information, you’re gonna want to talk to Ms. Lucy Monroe. She’s the real brains around here.”

  Brains, huh? If Edward Blake, PhD, a man who, by the multitude of plaques and degrees decorating the wall must be a very successful and accomplished astronomer, wasn’t the brains of the place, then Ms. Monroe must be a damn genius.

  “All right, then, point the way,” Sam said, working to keep his anxiety from saturating his voice.

  Dr. Blake eyed Sam up and down, assessing him more like a suspicious father before his teenage daughter’s first date than the director of a research institution.

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea just now.” Dr. Blake crossed his arms over his ample abdomen. Geez, the man couldn’t look more like good old Saint Nick if he’d been wearing a red suit. Sam could hardly help the smile that threatened to spread across his face. This guy was a dead ringer for the Christmas character.

  “And why is that, Mr. Clau—Dr. Blake?” Sam was not a patient man, but he could appear that way when he wanted to. And even though his patience was being tested at the moment, he would do nothing to ruin his chance of getting to meet his daughter.

  “Well,” Dr. Blake said, leaning across the desk to stare straight into Sam’s eyes. Now Sam felt as if he really was on trial. His pulse quickened and he sucked in a breath, letting the air out slowly as he gathered his thoughts. “Because you still haven’t given me a good answer to my question. What exactly is it that you’re doing here, Mr. Haynes?”

  Sam leaned back, putting a foot or two of distance between himself and the doc. He could feel his heart rate returning to something resembling normal as he took a few more deep breaths.

  “Look, Dr. Blake, I just need some information, that’s all. I’m here on business, and I really need to talk with someone who knows the place inside and out. Since, as you said, that person is Ms. Monroe, I’d just like to have a moment with her. I will explain everything, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  The doctor leaned back, looking slightly satisfied with Sam’s answer. He offered Sam a small smile, and damned if Sam didn’t feel as if the man was about to reach under his desk and pull out a present from a great red sack. This guy really needed to consider a job playing the man in the big red suit, if he hadn’t already.

  “All right, Mr. Haynes, I’ll take you to her. And I apologize if I’m being a little overly cautious.” Dr. Blake folded his hands on the desk and a look of sincere concern brushed over his features. “It’s just that, well, Lucy’s special. She’s indispensable here, and she’s had a hard go of things. It’s important to me that I look out for her, is all. I’m probably saying too much. I just needed to know you didn’t have anything shady up your suit sleeve there.”

  The doctor pointed a finger in Sam’s direction and Sam looked down at his expensive Italian suit. He supposed he was a tad overdressed. People seemed to go a little more on the casual side out here in the country. He’d have to keep that in mind and maybe stop for some different clothes if he ended up sticking around. He reminded himself not to get ahead of the game. There was still a considerable chance that the girl would want nothing to do with him.

  And of course, now he’d have to get past Lucy first, provided she knew anything about his daughter. The PI had said that someone resembling an older version of the child in the picture Jennifer had provided had been seen more than once at the observatory. In hindsight, it wasn’t much to go on, and arguably not near enough to warrant the steps he’d already taken. Then again, you didn’t have to be an astronomer to figure out that his situation was fraught with difficulty at all ends. There wouldn’t come a better time to face whatever his future as a father might hold.

  Be
st to just jump in and then learn how to swim.

  It was all he could do, and he could only hope that following his instincts would prove the right course of action.

  “Nothing at all up my sleeve, Dr. Blake,” Sam said, cautiously calculating his next words as he revised his original plan. “You see, I’m in the restaurant business, and I’m interested in the observatory’s café for market research purposes, is all. Nothing more.”

  Sam feigned a glance at his watch for an excuse to look away from the doctor’s eyes to avoid choking on his own lie. He wasn’t in the habit of stretching the truth, not even to strangers, and it made him a little sick in his stomach to start things out this way, regardless of whether the doctor would have anything to do with him after that moment.

  So he needed the people of Peach Leaf on his side, and he’d need all the support he could get if he ran into any problems. If his child did have any interest in a relationship with her dad, Sam was fully prepared to rearrange his life to meet her needs—flexibility was a luxury his career afforded, and he would use it if necessary. He wouldn’t do anything to upset the girl’s world, but he would do anything in his power to be as much a part of her life as she’d allow. If she wanted him around, Sam would do what he could to make it happen, and in a small town, that would almost certainly involve getting acquainted with the locals.

  “Well, then, if that’s all,” Dr. Blake said, rolling back his desk chair and lifting his considerable bulk to make his way around to the front, “let me show you to Lucy’s office.”

  The doctor held out an arm and Sam walked ahead and opened the door, holding it for Dr. Blake. As they walked, he couldn’t help humoring himself, to quell the anxiety that had taken up permanent residence inside him the past few days. “Have you ever thought about dressing up as Santa Claus at Christmastime? I would venture I’m not the first to tell you that you have the perfect beard for it. Kids would love you,” Sam suggested, grinning, doing his best to lighten the tension.

  Dr. Blake stopped midstep and turned to stare wide-eyed at Sam, as if he’d never heard anything more ridiculous in his life.

  “Now, why on earth would I do that, Mr. Haynes?”

  Sam choked on his words and tried to keep the surprise from his expression. A very uncomfortable few seconds passed before a huge grin stretched across the doctor’s face, and a deep, rumbling chuckle escaped.

  “I’m just messing with you, kid. Of course I’ve considered it. In fact, the observatory puts up a giant Christmas tree out on the café’s porch each year, and we do a big ceremony of lighting the thing. I dress up like the big guy from the North Pole and we make a thing of it. It’s a lot of fun. You see,” Dr. Blake said, his voice more serious, “this is more than just a place for science research and learning. It’s a big part of the community. That’s why it’s so important that we keep it alive. Tell you what—after you meet with Ms. Monroe, why don’t you come back by my office and I’ll set you up with one of the interns? You should check the place out while you’re here. And of course,” he said, nudging Sam with an elbow, “the museum always welcomes donations.”

  Dr. Blake smiled wide at Sam, who was fairly certain the old man winked. Sam had never believed in Santa even as a child, and he hadn’t had many pleasant holiday seasons growing up. With a single mom who’d had to work so much, there hadn’t always been much time for celebration. But if he’d ever put his cards on a miracle, he supposed now was the time. He could use all the help he could get.

  * * *

  After searching for Ms. Monroe all over the museum, Dr. Blake suggested they try the observatory’s café.

  “Here we are,” the man said, as they rounded a hallway corner and Sam saw a sign for the Lonestar Café. “It’s the only other place she could be, though between you and me, I can’t imagine what she’d be doing in the kitchen, unless she’s having a snack. She’s in charge of the staff and in all the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never once seen that woman take a break during the business week. Besides, anyone who knows her can tell you that Lucy Monroe sure as shoot does not belong near a kitchen.”

  The doctor chuckled and Sam felt as if he’d missed out on some sort of inside joke. Being in the small Texas town, even for a short while, would take some getting used to. Not that people weren’t friendly where he came from—it’s just that the pace was different. He was used to the city and the constant bustle of people moving from one thing to the next, but here, the director of a significant institution seemed to have all the time and patience in the world to chat with Sam and show him around. He would have to be careful in this environment, where people were more likely to notice him, and Lord knows he must stick out like a sore thumb.

  Sam and Dr. Blake walked through a small, but comfortable, dining area with beautifully handcrafted wooden tables and chairs, and Sam wished he had a moment to stop and admire the work; he had a fondness for carpentry and had taken a few classes. He had developed some skill and he’d made a few pieces here and there, mostly for friends, but he’d never had the luxury of taking on a real project. Maybe he would finally be able to carve out some time to do so.

  As they got closer to the back of the café, a terrible scent bit at Sam’s nose. As a trained chef, there was one thing he loathed the smell of more than anything in his kitchen, and that was the exact odor permeating the air as he inhaled. A thin cloud of smoke lent a gray haze to the area, and Sam and Dr. Blake had to force their way through a crowd, some of whom were peering through the kitchen door. They all probably had the same question. What in the hell was burning? Sam sniffed the air again and had the answer in an instant: butter and flour. Someone on the other side of that door was ruining pastry. Maybe he’d be of use here in more ways that he had anticipated.

  “It’s hotter than a hog’s behind in here” were the first words Sam heard the second he opened the door.

  “Well, thanks for the welcome,” Sam joked.

  The owner of the voice, a woman with olive skin and short, spiky black hair, stood near a prep counter, smiling at him, and was joined a second later by the cutest girl Sam had ever laid eyes on. She was petite with gorgeous curves, reminiscent of 1940s pinup beauties and comic book heroines, though, sadly, the clothes she wore did much to hide what he guessed was an incredible figure. Curls the color of autumn-red leaves brushed her shoulders. Huge green eyes, filled with what looked like disappointment and traces of tears, maybe from the smoke Sam could see billowing out of the oven in great clouds, peered at him curiously from behind large purple glasses.

  “Hi, there. Looks like you could use a hand.”

  Dr. Blake said he’d see them all later and disappeared as fast as he could. Sam couldn’t blame the doc, but there was no chance of escape for him now, as he’d walked straight into a war zone.

  Sam rushed over to join the two women, grabbing oven mitts from a counter along the way, and began taking the pies from them and dumping the offending confections into the nearest large trash can.

  “Oh my gosh! What do you think you’re doing?” the lovely, green-eyed girl shrieked, actually pulling a pie from Sam’s hands and holding it to her chest as if he’d just snatched a baby from her, the momentum causing what remained of the pie’s less thoroughly burned contents to spill on her shirt. Sam stared at her, alarmed at her reaction.

  “I’m saving whatever disaster of a dessert you’ve got going here, is what I’m doing,” he said, gently taking back the pie. He had to peel the woman’s fingers from the edges, and as he did, chunks of blackened crust hit the ground, causing her cheeks to redden until she had no choice but to let Sam slip it out of her hands.

  “Who are you? And what on earth are you doing in my kitchen?” she asked. Sam had the feeling she meant to sound stern, but her voice came out thin and defeated.

  “I’m Sam. Sam Haynes,” he said, in as soothing a voice as he could. From the look of things, the woman had had a hard day, and he could understand her frustration at a stranger showing up, but he ha
d the strong idea she could use his help.

  “This is your kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow, suspicious. It didn’t line up with what Dr. Blake had mentioned, but if the kitchen were indeed hers, clearly he’d arrived right in the nick of time.

  “Well. For now it is. My chef quit and—” she glared at Sam and placed both hands on her hips “—what difference is it to you anyway? Why are you here?”

  “Actually, if you’re Ms. Monroe,” Sam said, glancing at the apple filling–splattered name tag on her lapel that read Lucy, “I’d really like to speak to you in private.”

  “Regarding?”

  “Well, it’s complicated,” Sam said, weighing his words carefully. He cursed himself for not thinking this through all the way. Then he had an idea. He squared his shoulders. “Actually, I’m in the restaurant business and I have some experience. It’s clear you’re in need of a chef, and it appears I’ve come at a good time.”

  “You’re really a chef?” she asked, eyeing him up and down as she took in his choice of outfit.