still had his eyes on Cate and was obviously trying to extricate himself from a gaggle of people to get to her.
“Sorry.” All charm, Aidan smiled, slapped a couple of backs. “I need to steal Dillon a minute.”
“Thanks,” Dillon began as they moved away. “I wanted to—”
“I know what you wanted. We need to talk first.”
He walked toward the front of the house—fewer people. Still, some hung out on the porch, so he kept walking, heading toward the field where the cattle grazed. Where the woods lay behind them.
The woods where his little girl had run, lost and terrified.
“She’s my only child,” Aidan began. “I’ve had to fight the instinct to keep her wrapped up tight and safe, to keep her with me every second. It was my grandmother who pushed me to give her room, when we were in Ireland. She was right, my grandmother. But I knew when I wasn’t there, right there, Nan was.”
“I never met her,” Dillon said carefully, “but I feel like I know her from the way Cate talks about her.”
“She was a presence. When we came back to California, I knew my father and Lily were there when I wasn’t. Even when Cate demanded, and Christ, did she, to go to New York, I knew Lily would be there. After that, Cate didn’t give me much choice in it. She would live her life, and I want that for her. Love is letting go as much as it’s holding on.”
“I love her. I’ve loved her a long time, so I know that’s true.”
Aidan turned from the woods, looked into the eyes of the man he knew already held his daughter’s heart. “You’re both of age, but I’m going to ask what you intend to do about it.”
“I’m going to take care of her, even when she doesn’t especially want me to. She’s a hell of a lot tougher than she looks, but she still needs someone to take care. We all do. I’m going to do my damnedest to make her happy, to work with her toward building the kind of life we can both be proud of. When she settles into all that, I’m going to marry her. We’re both of age, but I’m hoping you’ll give your blessing on that.”
Slipping his hands in his pockets, Aidan shifted to look out at the ocean, to gather himself. “I’ve been grateful to you for nearly twenty years.”
“It’s not about—”
Aidan held up a hand to cut Dillon off. “I haven’t spent as much time here as my father, as Lily, as Catey now, but I’ve spent enough to know your family is one I’d be proud to blend mine with. I’ve spent some time this summer keeping an eye on you.”
“Yeah.” Dillon shifted his hat back a fraction. “I felt that.”
Pleased, Aidan shifted back. “So, if you want my blessing, you have it. And if you screw this up, if you hurt my baby, I’ll kick your ass. If I can’t do it myself, I’ll hire somebody who can.”
Dillon glanced at the hand Aidan held out, took it. “That’s fair.”
With a laugh, Aidan slapped his back. “Let’s go get a beer.”
Hours later, happily exhausted, Cate walked with Dillon toward his house.
“I don’t know how any of you can get up before dawn in the morning after a day like this.”
“Rancher’s stamina. Let’s sit out a minute. It’s as pretty a night as they come.”
They’d done most of the cleanup and hauling away, but some chairs still sat out, so she took one, sighed out at the sea, the stars, the fat ball of moon.
“Best moment of the day,” she challenged. “Pick one. Don’t think.”
“I’ve got a couple of them, but we’ll go with watching you dance with Hugh.”
“One of mine, too.”
From the hills, echoing, came the call of a coyote.
“You really don’t want that?”
“Want what?”
“Performing that way. On the stage, or on the screen that way.”
“No, I really don’t.” She tipped her face skyward, realized she was as thoroughly happy as she’d ever been. And understood exactly why. “It was fun, but I don’t want it for my work. My father said today my grandparents will never really retire, and he’s right. We Sullivans tend to pour it all in—like another family I know. I don’t want to pour it all into that, and not because of childhood trauma, not anymore. Because I’ve found other things to pour it all into.”
Brushing her hair back, she turned her face to his. “Would you like to