No.1 Dad in Texas. Dianne Drake

way a man could mess up the best thing in his life. But in a woman he needed personality and drive and, so far, he hadn’t found that in any way that suited him other than in Belle, and that didn’t count any more.

      Which was fine, for now, as he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down again. Of course, some people, Belle specifically, would argue he’d never settled down in the first place. “Look,” he said, jumping into her path as she whooshed by him on her way out the door, “I don’t want to fight. OK? It seems like we’re always fighting, or just on the verge of it, and I don’t want us doing that.”

      “Neither do I, but we’re so good at it,” she said, smiling. “I’d hate to give up on a good thing.”

      He chuckled, in spite of himself. “That’s the thing I fell in love with, you know?”

      “What?” she asked. “That I defend myself? That I stand up to you, face-to-face, and punch back?”

      “Well, that could be part of the charm—for someone else. But what drew me to you was your fire. Just not so much of it. Anyway, that accusation a few minutes ago—it was a cheap shot. Totally uncalled-for, and I’m sorry. But sometimes—”

      “Look, I do understand. It’s not easy being Michael’s dad, and it’s probably not easy being my ex—although I’m not sure why it isn’t, because I think I’m pretty easy to get along with.” This time her smile was a tease. “Anyway, I’ve got to make my house call and these ranch hands aren’t happy about it, so I just want to get out there and get it over with. Michael knows you’re going to spend the evening with him, and that I might be late. He understands. So …” She shrugged, then hurried out the restaurant door, leaving Cade to watch her until she climbed into her car and drove away.

      Yep, she certainly had fire. And if he was not mistaken, the flames had shot up a notch or two since they’d divorced. It was not unattractive in her, he decided as he ambled over to Michael and watched him trounce the evildoers in his game. Trounce, like a pro.

      Damn, if his kid wasn’t good at it! “So, Michael. Want to show me what you’re doing?”

      Michael didn’t take his eyes off the screen, didn’t even miss a shot. “Um, no.”

      The sting of that one word rocked him back a couple of steps. But that’s as far as he went. Then he stood his ground, the way Belle would, and watched his son accomplish the highest score ever achieved on that particular game machine without breaking a sweat. How the hell was he ever going to make the score with Michael, with or without sweat?

      That was the question he’d been asking himself for years. It was also the question for which he couldn’t find an answer.

      Then it hit him. Michael had called him Dad. Maybe prompted, maybe not. But—Dad. The most beautiful word he’d ever heard. So maybe there wasn’t an answer to his question, except patience. And time.

      The big problem, though, was distance, and there was no way to get around that.

      He looked so innocent sleeping. So beautiful. She’d always thought that. And in their last year together, after so much struggling, she’d thought it was a pity he didn’t sleep more often, because when he woke up, life changed. Fighting, bitterness—the emptiness of long, lonely hours by herself. Cade had caused her the kind of unhappiness she’d never thought would be part of her life. Yet she understood. Part of it came with his frustration over Michael. It hurt him, being ignored by a son he loved so deeply. But part of it was his absence, which was something she’d never understood and which, in retrospect, she wished she’d pursued with him until he’d explained it. His need, or lust, to leave had started mere weeks after they’d pronounced their vows, and had only got worse with time. She’d hoped it was a phase, some kind of life adjustment she just didn’t understand. But it hadn’t been, and when she’d asked him to explain, to help her understand, she’d been met with Cade’s characteristic wall of resistance. So after a while, being rebuffed every time she asked, she quit asking, essentially giving up as it was clear that she was moving forward with her life and her husband was moving away.

      Oh, sure. Cade had his causes—causes she admired. Sadly, at the time, his family hadn’t seemed one of them. Maybe it was because she was strong and he’d believed she could hold things together in his absence. Maybe he found more satisfaction helping others than he did helping his family. All these years later she still didn’t know why. But now she didn’t dwell on it so much because her choice to move on without him, or get left behind, had been a good one.

      Yet he still looked so innocent, sleeping. Like the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

      Belle smiled as she studied him. Michael looked so much like him. Same gray eyes, same dark brown hair, wavy with a little bit of curl. Same crooked smile. Except neither Michael nor Cade smiled much, which was a pity. Because it was a beautiful smile. One she’d wanted to capture in a family photo back when they’d been a family.

      “It’s late,” Cade mumbled in his sleepy voice.

      The sleepy voice—another thing she used to love. It was a little thick, a little gruff. “Going on to midnight.”

      “Does it happen often?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

      “What? Me running around and leaving Michael here with a babysitter? Is that what you’re asking me, Cade? Do I neglect my son on a regular nightly basis?” She hadn’t meant to take offense, but sometimes Cade provoked that in her. Usually without much effort. Like now, when she was thinking about the things she’d planned with him—things she’d never have.

      He stretched, sat up. Stretched again. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking about Michael. It’s you I was concerned about, being the only doctor for miles.”

      “More like a hundred miles.” She backed off the anger immediately.

      “Which doesn’t mean much, since it’s Texas miles, and there’s not much civilization from here to there.”

      “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so—”

      “Defensive?” he asked.

      She tossed her jacket over the back of the couch and stashed her medical bag in the coat closet on the top shelf. “That’s what we do to each other, isn’t it? Get defensive at first sight.” She turned to face him. “You were right earlier about not fighting. I don’t like being this way either, Cade. It gets easy to do, like a habit, and I don’t want Michael seeing it.”

      “Then we’ll have to make sure we don’t.”

      “Agreed. No more fighting,” she said, kicking off her shoes then dropping down into the overstuffed chair near the stairs. Said with a sly grin, “But clarify this for me, will you? Does the ban on fighting include low blows, subtle innuendoes, and casual jabs? And this means both of us, doesn’t it? It’s not like I have to quit fighting with you, but you still get to fight with me, is it?”

      Cade chuckled. “You always came out swinging with the best of them. We did have our good moments, though, didn’t we?”

      “Enough that I could probably count them on both hands.”

      “OK, I’m going to count that as a casual jab, but it came damned close to being a low blow,” he warned her, smiling. “Which means you owe me.”

      “There’s a penalty system connected to this truce? Do I need to have my lawyers go over the terms of the contract?” It was said with neither inflection nor expression.

      “See, that’s the thing. Most people would take what you said as a serious comment because you don’t even crack a smile. But I know the sign, Belle.”

      “What sign?”

      “The arched left eyebrow.”

      “I do not!” she said, feigning indignance.

      “There it goes again, arching up, just for a split second. Subtle, but, oh, so readable.”

      “OK,