Coulda Been a Cowboy. Brenda Novak

to see you get hurt, Dakota. I envisioned this as a great opportunity for you, but—”

      She waved her free hand in an unconcerned motion. “I’m not going to get hurt.”

      “I hope not. Lord knows you deserve a lot better than what you’ve had. I’d like to see you get it. But…”

      “Tyson would never go for a plain girl like me?” Dakota’s chest constricted. It was one thing to know the truth in her heart and another to have someone she admired as much as Gabe point it out to her. But she added a scoffing laugh so he wouldn’t know he’d hurt her. “Come on, Gabe. I know he’s way out of my league.”

      Gabe’s eyes fell to Braden. “I wasn’t talking about Tyson.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      Grandpa Garnier: Don’t let so much reality into your life

       that there’s no room for dreamin’.

      IT WAS LATE, yet most of the lights were on in the cabin. Was Braden back on the rampage and keeping Dakota up?

      Tyson sort of hoped so. She’d stepped in and taken over as if caring for a baby was the easiest thing in the world. Which made him feel like an absolute idiot.

      He thought of their phone conversations over the past week: He’s such a good baby…Slept all night, even though I’m pretty sure he’s cutting another tooth…He’s napping right now…

      From the sounds of it, Braden had been nothing but sheer joy.

      “Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Garnier?”

      Tyson realized he was still sitting in the back of the cab, staring at the house. “No, thanks.”

      He paid the man, then waited as the cabby pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. The plane ride from Los Angeles to Boise hadn’t been that long, but Tyson still felt cramped, rumpled and exhausted. Probably because the days he’d spent in California had been a nightmare. When he appeared in court after being served, Rachelle had presented the picture of him scaling her fence and claimed he’d been calling her night and day and had nearly broken down her door in an attempt to “get to her.” With her bodyguard there to give witness, the judge had granted the restraining order. Tyson had requested a meeting so they could come to some sort of agreement, but Rachelle refused to talk to him unless he was willing to hand over the baby.

      What really upset him was that she wasn’t acting out of regret for having given up her child. Regret he could understand, maybe even forgive. Regret was what a normal mother would be feeling. But Rachelle still cared more about the money than Braden. She hadn’t offered Tyson a dime of his money back. Instead, she’d been spotted all over Beverly Hills, laughing and shopping with her best friend.

      “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I give in to her,” he muttered.

      “Excuse me?” the cabby said. The squat, fifty-something-year-old had a hold of his luggage and was prepared to bring it to the house.

      “I’ve got this.” Tyson gave him a hefty tip and took the suitcase.

      “All right, then. Have a good night, Mr. Garnier. It was a pleasure driving you. You call me any time you need a cab, you hear? I’ll come from Boise if you want. Just like tonight. No problem.”

      “I appreciate that.”

      “Okay. You be careful with that knee now,” the cabby called after him. “I can’t wait till next season. I’m a big Stingrays fan. Purple and silver. Those are my colors, too. To me, those are as American as red, white and blue. But you’ve got some work yet to do. Jerry Rice still holds a few of those receiving records.”

      “That he does.” Tyson threw the words over his shoulder, but he knew, unless his knee healed up better than it was, he wasn’t going to be a threat to Jerry Rice or anyone else.