Overprotective Cowboy - Elana Johnson Page 0,81
his game machine.
“Almost there, bud,” Dallas said, surprised at how chipper his voice came out.
Thomas nodded and powered down the game. Dallas felt like he didn’t know his ten-year-old. He’d missed all of his eighth and ninth year on the planet, and though Dallas had seen his son start to grow in his permanent front teeth and he’d gotten emails with attachments of the boy’s art, it was completely different than being with the child day in and day out.
Dallas had never considered the fact that he might be a single parent one day. Martha had been the perfect surgeon’s wife, and she’d charmed hospital administrators, kept the house tidy and the bills paid, and the children in appropriate, wholesome activities. Dallas had loved coming home to her and the kids, and until the lawsuit that had diverted his life onto another path, he’d been blissfully unaware of any of the things he was currently dealing with.
He made the right turn, and the road started to wind out of town. Dallas glanced at his new phone, the concept of even owning a device like this that could make calls at any time a bit novel to him.
“Just a couple more miles,” he said more to reassure himself than Thomas.
And just a couple more miles and a few more minutes down the road, Dallas made the right turn onto the road that had Hope Eternal Ranch at the end of it.
The road turned from asphalt to dirt, and the sedan bumped over the new surface. He crossed a bridge, and passed the trees, the ranch spread in front of him.
A massive house sat just beyond a small patch of grass, which had a fence separating it from a large gravel pad, where Dallas pulled to a stop.
He peered out of the windshield, taking int the house that was really two houses—one on each side of a three-car garage. Nate and Ted had told him all about it, and Dallas could see the appeal of it.
And then Ted was walking toward him, a giant smile on his bearded face. Dallas started laughing and said, “Come on, guys. Let’s get out.”
He got out of the car and met Ted at the opening of the fence. The other man had four inches on Dallas, and at least fifty pounds. He really was like a big teddy bear, and Dallas clapped him heartily on the back.
“Look at you,” Ted said, and that was all. Dallas didn’t need more; he knew what Ted meant.
Look at him outside the fences of River Bay. Look at him in regular clothes. Look at him, a single dad to two kids.
Those kids came up beside him, Remmy clutching her blanket though it was far too hot to cart that around for long, and rubbing her eyes.
“Guys,” he said. “This is Ted Burrows. Do you remember him?”
“Yes,” Thomas said at the same time Remmy said, “No,” and shrank into Dallas’s side.
He put his palm on her back and gave her a quick squeeze.
“He’s one of my best friends,” Dallas said. “Ted, these are my kids, Thomas and Remmy.”
Ted crouched down, his smile bright and genuine. “Hey, guys. I’ve got something for you in the West Wing. It involves chocolate. You want to come see what it is?”
Remmy edged away from Dallas, and Ted straightened as he took her hand. Thomas looked up at Dallas, and he nodded. I’m coming in too.”
Thomas went ahead of him, and Ted chatted with Remmy about her blanket and the character on her T-shirt.
“Oh, our clothes.” Dallas turned back to the car to get the small suitcase he’d brought with their dress clothes for the wedding. “I’ll catch up. I’m grabbing our clothes.”
He retrieved the bag and turned to follow Ted, but they’d disappeared. A flash of panic hit Dallas, and he worked to tamp it back. He hadn’t been alone for so long, and he didn’t like the feeling of not knowing exactly where to go.
The panic itself was new, and Dallas loathed it. He’d never had a confidence problem or been plagued with anxiety or other mental illnesses. But his incarceration had changed a lot more than the status of his marriage and the age of his children.
He walked down the driveway toward the wide garages, and Nate came out of a doorway, clearly looking for Dallas.
Relief rushed through him, and to his great surprise, tears pricked his eyes. “Nate,” he said, and Nate’s face burst into a grin.
“You made it.” He came down