Cowgirl, Unexpectedly. Vicki Tharp

      But try telling him that.

      Lottie had left him in a small side yard by the house for the day and he howled and cried as soon as Hank and I rode out. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t go.

      About a quarter mile out from our cabin, a small outcropping of rocks with a well-worn trail going around it appeared on my right. We followed the trail, letting the horses walk to give Sierra time to recover from the lesson. With the long day of riding ahead of us, Hank wanted to make sure we didn’t tire her out too soon.

      Sierra and I were in the lead. I didn’t know where I was going, but she apparently did and preferred a quicker pace than Hank’s mount. The trail sloped down and I spotted a hitching rail off to my right closer to the rocks.

      I stopped Sierra to allow Hank to come abreast and pointed. “What’s down there?”

      Hank’s glance followed my finger then he eyed me for a second as if deciding if he was going to tell me or not. Then he reined his horse to the right, following a narrow trail. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

      As we rounded a rocky outcrop, Hank stopped and waved his hand at a pool of water about the size of the round pen. Even though the day had warmed, the sky was overcast. Steam rose from the water’s surface.

      “Is that a hot spring?” I asked.

      “Lazy S Ranch’s very own cowboy hot tub. Stays around a hundred degrees year-round.”

      “You swim in it?”

      “Not since I was a teenager. A popular spot for parties back then.”

      “Did you and Jenna’s mother come here?”

      The smile slipped from his face. Why had I asked that? Jenna’s mother was none of my business and neither was what she and Hank did or didn’t do here. My question was inappropriate and truthfully, I didn’t expect an answer. He pursed his lips and shot me a hard look, then turned his horse back to the trail, but with Sierra’s quick pace, I caught up within a handful of strides.

      “So, Jenna told you I was her father.” His voice was low and he sounded a little deflated, as if talking about it stripped all the wind from his sails. I didn’t know all the reasons why that was the case, but from what I’d gathered, he’d been on the road much of her life. It didn’t take a genius to recognize their strained relationship. The hard set of his jaw made me want to explain that I hadn’t barged down to the barn this morning to extract the information from his kid.

      “It just came out. That you were her father,” I explained. “I don’t even know if she realized she’d told me. She was pretty upset about Quinn this morning.”

      Hank growled when I mentioned the boy’s name. I stifled a chuckle. I guess no matter how much or little time a man spends with his daughter, she’ll always be his daughter whether she wants to acknowledge him or not.

      “Why is it a secret she’s your daughter?”

      Hank shrugged. “Not a well-kept one. Link, of course, knows. The rest of the hands are new. They don’t know who I am. It was kind of a condition of hers for me coming back. Not that she had a choice in the matter, but I figured there were so many things she didn’t have control over, I could give her that. For a while at least.”

      Though I didn’t see my parents much, I’d been very close to my father growing up. I couldn’t imagine not growing up with that bond or not wanting to acknowledge it. “That’s gotta hurt.”

      He glanced over at me and held my gaze, his once bright blue irises now almost a dull, slate-gray. There was still a tightness around his eyes, but his earlier anger had been replaced by another dark emotion. He tried to speak but had to clear his throat before the words could escape. “You have no idea.”

      We rode in silence for a mile or so. Sometimes I was slightly ahead, and sometimes he was. We’d given the horses their heads and were letting them set the pace. Then Hank came up beside me at a slow trot and brought his horse back to a walk. “Thank you,” he said. “For being there for Jenna when she was upset.”

      His eyes were soft and had regained their bright color and warmth with his gratitude. At the risk of making Hank mad again, I asked, “Quinn seems like an okay kid. Is it really so bad they like each other?”

      “Not so bad,” Hank admitted. “I know of his family. Quinn’s father is a ranch hand, like his father before him. Not a bad thing. I know the kind. This work is what they like. It’s what they do. It’s enough for them.”

      “I don’t see the problem.”

      “The problem comes when Jenna decides it’s no longer enough for her. If it happens tomorrow or next week, no problem, but what if their relationship continues? What if it happens later when she’s pregnant or has a kid or two? What happens then?”

      Hank kicked his palomino into a slow lope, effectively ending the conversation but leaving me to wonder if he was still talking about Jenna and Quinn or if he was now talking about himself and Jenna’s mother.

      I followed close behind and worked on keeping the rhythm the way I’d learned that morning, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t watch the gentle glide of his hips for a few strides and wonder if he would lose any of that tight control in bed.