Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

She rubs at her temple with two red-fingernail-tipped fingers and shakes her head, her mouth sucking air like a fish again. Growing more frustrated by the second and with my leg aching like a son of a bitch, I slam a hand into the doorjamb and lean some of my weight into it.

“Could you spit it out, honey? If you haven’t noticed, standin’ here waitin’ for you to put your thoughts together isn’t exactly pain-free.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” Determined, she nods and puts a sentence together. “I’m Leah Levee. Dr. Leah Levee, and I’m here to do personalized medical, physical therapy, and rehabilitation care for two months for…well, you, I think. Though, you are not the you I thought was you, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around how all our wires got crossed this badly.”

A fucking doctor? For me? I shut my eyes for a brief moment and let out a harsh sigh.

Already, I have a pretty strong sense of who is behind this, but before I draw any final conclusions, I try to get the pretty city girl to confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Tell me again, who sent you here?” I ask, anger building in my chest like lava bubbling to the top of a volcano.

“Um, his name is Tex Jameson. But I think…well, I guess he’s your father?”

Goddamn, sometimes I hate being right. Instantly, my dad’s words pop into my head. “If you keep actin’ like you need a damn babysitter, I’ll fuckin’ get you one.”

That motherfucker.

The screen door slams against the threshold as I turn and spin, shoving it out of the way and limping back into the house and down the hall as fast as I can. Joey peeks out from the kitchen and watches as I grab the phone next to the sofa in the living room, pick it up, and start dialing immediately.

I only vaguely note that Dr. Leah has followed me inside, somewhat cautiously, and is now standing at the entrance to the living room. Joey bounds out of the kitchen and across the hall to stand in front of her again, her petite hips swinging back and forth in delight. It’s on the tip of my tongue to snap at them both, but the sound of ringing in my ear reminds me to save my anger for the man who deserves it.

My father.

“That’s my daddy,” I hear Joey tell the doctor, hooking one of her tiny thumbs across her chest toward me. “He’s a real-life cowboy, with some of the fastest reflexes in the world! He used to be in rodeos, but now he just stays here with me. We’ve got all sorts o’ stuff ’round here on the ranch, though. Chickens and bulls and horses, and we used’ta have a pig named Pete, but now he’s bacon,” she recites with a snort, the goddamn phone still ringing in my ear.

I’m beginning to think that if I want to have it out with my father, it’s going to have to be in person. Tex Jameson knows what he’s done, and now he’s hiding.

I slam the phone back down on its base, and Leah jumps, her eyes widening again as she glances between my sweet girl and me.

One clearly enamored of her, one just as transparently annoyed.

“Daddy, can Miss Leah stay and go feedin’ with us later?” Joey asks sweetly, running across the room to tug on the belt loop of my jeans. “I wanna show her Charles Chickens and Moby Chick.”

She turns around like a whip to look at Leah again, and I grind my jaw to keep myself from spouting off in a rage in front of her.

“Those’re my favorite chickens, Miss Leah. I named ’em and everything.”

“You named them?” Leah asks, her eyes widening in wonder. “I didn’t think you were old enough to know about Charles Dickens and Moby Dick.”

Joey snorts. “I’m almost six,” she says with the emphasis clearly stating she interprets it different than we do. To my Joey, six is almost full-grown.

“Oh, well,” Leah says with a smile, playing along. “That definitely changes things.”

It’s sweet of her not to belittle Joey like a lot of people do. My girl’s smart, quick, clever—and to her, age is just a number.

But fuck, it’s not enough to cool all the anger I’m feeling about my father trying to saddle me with some ritzy city doctor without my permission. It’s no wonder she thought I was fourteen, really. Because that’s sure as shit the way my old man still treats me.

I shake my head and tug gently on one of Joey’s pigtails. “No, baby. Miss Leah’s got to be going,” I say, the directive meant for more than just my girl.

Leah gets the message too, slowly nodding to signify she understands. “I’m super tired right now anyway,” she says to soften the blow to Joey. “I still need to get settled in my cabin and get some rest. I appreciate you inviting me, though.”