Natural Born Daddy. Sherryl Woods

       Chapter Two

      Jordan lingered over coffee at White Pines the morning after his proposal to Kelly. He’d been up since the crack of dawn, in the dining room since six-thirty. All that time he’d been pondering a new approach to the problem of getting Kelly to take his declaration of his intentions seriously. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss.

      He heard the sound of boots on the stairs and glanced toward the doorway. Harlan Adams appeared a moment later, looking as fit as ever despite the fact that his fifty-sixth birthday was just around the corner. He regarded his son with surprise. Jordan suspected it was feigned, since nothing went on around White Pines that his father didn’t know within minutes.

      “Hey, boy, when did you turn up?” his father asked as he surveyed the lavish breakfast buffet their housekeeper had left for them.

      “Last night.”

      “Must have been mighty late.”

      “I’m too old for you to be checking my comings and goings,” Jordan reminded his father.

      “Did I ask?”

      Jordan sighed and battled his instinctive reaction to his father’s habitual, if subtle, probing. Harlan loved to goad them all, loved the spirited arguments and loved even more the rare wins he managed against his sons’ stubbornness.

      According to Luke, the oldest, their father battled wits with them just to get them to stand up for what they wanted. Jordan supposed it might be true. He’d practically had to declare war to leave White Pines and its ready-made career in ranching to go into the oil business. Yet once he’d gotten to Houston, the path had miraculously been cleared for him. He’d promptly found work at one of the best companies in the state before striking out on his own a few years later.

      “Everything okay around here?” he inquired as his father piled his plate high with the scrambled eggs, ham and hash browns that were forbidden to him except on weekends. He noted with some amusement that Harlan gave wide berth to the bran flakes and oatmeal.

      “Things would be just fine if Cody didn’t decide he has to have some newfangled piece of equipment every time I turn around,” Harlan grumbled.

      “How many have you let him buy?” Jordan asked.

      His father shrugged. “Put my foot down about some fancy computer with those little disks and intergalactic communications potential or some such. I can’t even figure out the one we’ve got. Luke spent a whole day trying to show me again the last time he and Jessie were over here, but if you ask me, pen and paper are plenty good enough for keeping the books.”

      Jordan hid a smile. He knew that his father’s pretended bemusement covered a mind that could grasp the most intricate details in a flash. Any trouble he was having with his computer was feigned solely to grab Luke’s attention.

      “Daddy, you’re practically in the twenty-first century,” he chided. “You have to keep up with the times.”

      “A lot of nonsense, if you ask me.” He grinned. “Leastways, that’s what I tell Cody. Keeps him on his toes.”

      The youngest of the Adams brothers, Cody was the one who’d fought hardest for his place as the head of the White Pines ranching operation. Harlan had pushed just as hard to get him to leave and strike out on his own. Now there was little question in anyone’s mind that Cody was as integral to the family business as his father was.

      “One of these days the two of you are going to butt heads once too often,” Jordan warned his father.

      “Not a chance,” Harlan said with evident pride. “That boy’s stubborn as a mule. Might even be worse than you or Lucas and he’s a danged sight ornerier than Erik.”

      He sounded downright happy about his youngest’s muleheadedness. He studied Jordan over the rim of his coffee cup. “You never did say what brought you home.”

      “No,” Jordan said firmly. “I didn’t.”

      “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that Flint woman, would it?”

      Jordan’s head snapped up and he stared at his father. “Why would you ask that?”

      “Because you make a beeline for that ranch every time you drive into the county. Can’t be sleeping with her, since you do wind up in your own bed here at night.”

      Jordan’s jaw tightened at the too personal observation. “My sleeping arrangements are none of your concern. Besides, Kelly and I are just friends. She’s had a rough time of it these past couple of years. I try to look in on her every once in a while to make sure she’s okay.” At least, that had been his motivation until last night’s visit.

      His father nodded. “She’s getting that place of hers on its feet, though. She’s got a lot of gumption and that girl of hers is a real little dickens. She called here last night to see if you’d asked yet about whether we want a kitten.”

      Despite his annoyance with his father, Jordan couldn’t help chuckling at Dani’s persistence. The remark was also proof that his father had known he was back in town and had also known exactly where he was the night before. All the questions had been designed just to needle him.

      “Did you agree to take one?” he asked, referring to the kittens Dani hadn’t trusted him to save.

      “How could I say no? The child was worried sick about her mother drowning them all in the creek. She mentioned that you’d reassured her that wouldn’t happen, but she wasn’t taking any chances.” He eyed Jordan speculatively. “Does that pitiful excuse for a father of hers get by much?”

      Jordan wasn’t surprised that his father knew the whole ugly story. It was hardly a secret, but even if it had been, Harlan made it his business to know about the folks around him, including those on neighboring ranches. He was even more persistent when it came to the women in his sons’ lives.

      “Not that I’m aware of,” he told his father.

      “Can’t understand a man who wouldn’t be proud to call a little one like that his own.”

      “Neither can I,” Jordan said grimly. He’d expressed his views on Paul Flint more than once to Kelly, long before she’d finally decided on divorce as her only option. He’d even offered on occasion to pummel some sense into the man.

      “Shame to go through life without a daddy,” Harlan observed.

      Jordan regarded him intently. There was no mistaking that his father had a point to make. “Meaning?”

      “Just what I said,” he insisted, sounding a little too innocent. “A child deserves two parents. Of course, a situation like that is all wrong for a man like you.”

      “Now what’s your point?” Jordan’s voice contained a lethal warning note.

      “Just that I understand you. You’re not looking for some country gal and a ready-made family. I’ve seen your type, glossy, sophisticated, like that…what’s her name?”

      “Rexanne,” Jordan supplied automatically, used to his father’s refusal to get the names of the women in his life straight.

      “Right,” he said. “Now she’s the perfect wife for a big oil tycoon.”

      Jordan was beginning to wonder exactly how much his father knew about his broken engagement. It seemed to him that the digs were a little too pointed for him not to have heard about it. He’d always despised Rexanne, just as he had every other woman Jordan had brought to White Pines. His sudden defense of her was clearly part of some Machiavellian scheme of his. He’d probably been on the phone to Ginger during the week and gotten an earful about his son’s social life—or sudden lack thereof.

      “I’m afraid Rexanne is out of