Colorado Cowboy. C.C. Coburn

of freak. Okay, Cody wasn’t so crazy about the lip piercing, either, but you needed it to look tough. To be part of the gang. Well, they weren’t technically a gang—not yet, anyway. But the guys were checking around for one to join.

      He hated the way the guy was looking at his mom, too. Like he didn’t believe her. Like he didn’t believe he was his son.

      That just irritated Cody even more. How could he know who his father was? Whenever he’d tried to talk about it with his mom, she’d clammed up. Once, she’d said, “It was a mistake,” but that only made it sound like she thought Cody was a mistake. Worthless. Like trash.

      What else could he think? For all he knew, his real dad could be doing time. Or maybe what he’d done was even worse, though he couldn’t think of anything much worse than having a criminal for a dad.

      All the guys had fathers who were doing time, so Cody had pretended his was, too. He’d muttered something about armed robbery at a gas station when they asked about it.

      Secretly, he hoped that if his father was doing time, it’d be for some minor crime, maybe some white-collar offense. That didn’t hurt anyone—not physically, anyway. He wondered how many years you got for a white-collar crime. Probably less than fourteen…

      He supposed it was okay if his father turned out to be some rancher from Colorado, like this guy claimed to be—as long as the guys didn’t find out.

      Cody had always liked the idea of Colorado. He wondered if the guy lived anywhere near the Rockies. He’d enjoyed reading National Geographic magazines in the school library—when he was a kid. The pictures of the Rocky Mountains were spectacular and somewhere he’d always wanted to go. Not that he’d ever admit it. Now he didn’t have time for that. Now he hung out with the guys….

      And now the judge was talkin’ again! Sheesh! Couldn’t she just mind her own business for a change? He was doing fine. He was surviving.

      “…I therefore believe, Mr. O’Malley,” she said, “that it would be in Cody’s best interests if he could be removed from the environment he’s living in at present—”

      THE FRONT LEGS of Cody’s chair hit the floor with a thud as his feet came off the desk, and he spewed forth a stream of invective that turned the air blue and had Megan cringing in her seat. What must Luke think of his son? What must he think of her for letting things get this bad?

      Judge Gloria Benson, as usual, was unperturbed. She’d assured Megan at an earlier meeting that she’d dealt with her share of juvenile offenders, plenty of them a lot more hardened than Cody. A bit of bad language didn’t faze her. She’d told Megan that most of those children—due to having families who didn’t give a damn—were beyond rescue, but she felt Cody had the option of leading a better life.

      The judge believed that with his father’s intervention, Cody had a good chance of making it to his next birthday—unlike so many kids who came through her court and didn’t live past their teens.

      That bald admission had been sobering for Megan. The thought that her precious son might die before he reached adulthood… She’d wanted to pack them both up and catch a train or bus to anywhere that wasn’t the Bronx or even New York City. Judge Benson had said, “I hope Mr. O’Malley has the courage to accept the challenge and follow through. Because right now, Cody’s future is very precarious.”

      Considering the expression on Luke’s face, he’d rather be anywhere than here with his son.

      “Your honor,” Megan said. “If you’d just give me another chance, I know I can put his life together and get him back into school.”

      “Ms. Montgomery…Megan…” Gloria sighed. Then she seemed to gather herself and said, “I can’t tell you how many mothers have begged me for just one more chance before I send their child to juvenile detention. How many I’ve yielded to, and then weeks later heard their child had died in a gang fight, or from an overdose of whatever drug was on the streets that day. I’m determined that’s not going to happen to Cody. You’re a good mom and I know you love your son. But unless you can afford to move out of your neighborhood to a better part of town, where Cody stands a chance of living a healthier—and longer—life, or we can find a solution here today, then I have no alternative but to send him to juvenile detention.”

      She turned her attention to Luke. “Cody’s been in my court three times in as many weeks. His behavior is worsening. He’s no longer attending school regularly. He’s run away from home more than once, been caught joyriding in a stolen vehicle and I’m concerned he’s on the brink of becoming part of the street gang culture of this city. Once that happens, he’ll be lost to us.”

      Megan felt she had to explain, so Luke wouldn’t see her as a complete deadbeat. “I’m working two jobs and in my final year of studying to be an accountant. I can’t be there to watch him all the time,” she said. But even as the words left Megan’s mouth, she guessed the judge had heard that excuse far too often. In Megan’s case, it was true.

      “I understand all of that and your intentions are honorable,” Judge Benson said. “But I’m afraid continuing the way things are will result in losing your son to crime and I know you don’t want that.”

      Megan’s tiny shake of her head was her only concession to her bald statement. She fought the tears that threatened and then lost the battle as they spilled down her cheeks and dropped onto her blouse.

      The judge was right; she needed help with Cody, needed someone to take part in his care and discipline. “That’s the reason I wanted to meet Cody’s father and see if we could find a solution,” Gloria explained. Obviously noticing Megan’s distress, she opened a drawer, removed a box of tissues and offered them to Megan.

      Megan’s hands shook as she pulled several tissues from the box. Feeling thoroughly humiliated in front of Luke and his brother, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes and cheeks.

      She wanted to turn her back on everyone. Protect herself from all the bad things in her life. Megan had never stopped loving Luke, in spite of his betrayal. She’d spent too many nights dreaming of seeing him again, being held, being kissed by him. Hearing him declare his love. Never once in those dreams had she imagined they’d meet under such humiliating circumstances.

      Megan bit her lip, unable to meet the eyes of the rest of the room’s occupants, knowing everyone was staring at her. This would have to be about the lowest point in her life.

      And then a warm hand covered hers.

      How Megan had changed in fifteen years! Luke thought as he covered her hand, needing to reassure her she wasn’t alone anymore.

      He’d been a twenty-four-year-old ski-instructor attracted to the college junior with the twinkling blue eyes. She was on spring break in his hometown of Spruce Lake and, within days, they were dating. And then they’d made love. Several times. He’d guessed she was a virgin, but she’d been every bit as enthusiastic as he was. He’d fallen for Megan from the moment they met. It was only later that he wondered if she’d done it as a dare. A city-girl college bet—losing her virginity to the first cowpoke who came along.

      She’d left Spruce Lake abruptly without even saying goodbye. He’d tried to contact her, but failed. Back then, cell phones weren’t that common, not for college students, anyway.

      Weeks later, he’d married his ex-girlfriend, Tory, because she’d claimed to be pregnant by him. He’d tried not to think about Megan for the past fifteen years.

      Yesterday, when he’d received a phone call from the New York City judge informing him he had a son, he’d been shocked—disbelieving. To learn not only that he’d fathered Megan’s child, but that his son was in trouble with the law, had left him numb and confused. Judge Benson had requested a meeting in her office. Her tone had brooked no argument.

      He’d assured the judge that if the child was his, he’d take responsibility and agreed to a meeting at noon the following day, anxious to resolve the matter, anxious to meet his son—if indeed this