His Instant Family

Family means everything to Dr. Trent Lockridge. Growing up without a father, he always yearned for a family of his own. One long-ago summer in Ouray, Colorado, he thought he might build a future with beautiful Blakely Daniels. But when he abruptly fled town, he broke her heart and left behind more than memories. Years later, Trent is shocked—and overjoyed—to learn he’s a father. He’d like to earn back Blakely’s love and trust—but it won’t be easy. And the clock is ticking. He’s got only a few weeks to prove that, this time, he’s here to stay…forever.

Trent followed Blakely to the kitchen, eager to ease the tension between them.

He found her frantically wiping the stovetop when he entered. “Anything I can do to help?”

Halting midwipe, she hesitated before finally turning around. “Um…” Eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip. Something he found sweet.

She looked away. “Actually, it’s Austin’s job to set the table.”

Unwilling to let the moment go, he stepped closer, eliminating what little space remained between them.

“He’s a great kid, Blakely. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thanks.”

At the table, he clasped Austin’s hand, then offered Blakely his other. The softness of her touch sent a wave of awareness through him. And, for a split second, it was as though they were a family.

Dreams he’d tucked away long ago drifted to the surface. Could he still have the one thing that had eluded him all his life?

MINDY OBENHAUS

always dreamed of being a wife and mother. Yet as her youngest of five children started kindergarten, a new dream emerged—to write stories of true love that would glorify God.

Mindy grew up in Michigan, but got to Texas just as fast as she could. Nowadays, she finds herself trapped in the city, longing for ranch life or the mountains. When she’s not penning her latest romance, she likes cooking, reading, traveling and spending time with her grandkids. Learn more about her at www.mindyobenhaus.com.

The Doctor’s Family Reunion

Mindy Obenhaus

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

—Romans 8:28

Acknowledgments

Becky Yauger, writing partner extraordinaire. Girlfriend, I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for understanding how my brain works

and for putting up with countless phone calls,

emails, texts and IMs. We did it!

Many thanks to Ted and Betty Wolfe, owners of the Ouray Comfort Inn, for your friendship, hospitality and for answering a multitude of questions.

To Bob and Brandy Ross, owners of

Switzerland of America, aka the little blue building

on Seventh Avenue. You were my inspiration.

Thanks for letting me hang with you guys.

Your attention to detail shines through in all you do.

Thank you to all my writer friends who helped me

along the way—Lisa, Lindi, Lena, Patty, Julie, Lynne, Kellie, Ruthy, Missy, Christy, Marilyn, Lee,

Betty and Jackie. Your input, no matter how large or small, helped get this story where it is today.

Thank you to my mother-in-law, Helen Obenhaus,

for introducing me to Ouray.

Melissa Endlich, you are the editor of my dreams.

Thank you for believing in me.

And to the agent of my dreams, Tamela Hancock Murray, thank you for your support and encouragement.

For my family. Thank you.

Richard, you gave me the courage to follow my dream and cheered me on every step of the way. You are my best friend, my rock, and I will love you forever.

Amy, Rachel, Danielle, Ryan and Michael,

I love you all more than you will ever know.

Never give up on your dreams.

Jesus, my Lord and Savior, without You, I wouldn’t have had a dream to chase. May it be for Your glory.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Blakely Daniels’ world had turned upside down.

Literally.

Her gaze darted throughout the cab of her tour vehicle, her breath ragged. Three tons of metal groaned around her, protesting against the copse of aspens that had stopped their free fall. The splintered windshield resembled a complex spider web and the indented driver’s door pressed against her leg.

Head throbbing, Blakely squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get her bearings. She’d been driving these mountain roads since she was a teenager. Yet here she sat—rather, hung—who knows how far below the cliff’s edge, her pickup in ruins.

How could she have made such a dangerous miscalculation? Praise God she was alone. She didn’t even want to think about the outcome if she’d had a truckload of guests.

A pungent odor touched her nostrils. Her eyes flew open.

Gasoline.

She had to get out of here.

Now.

Thanks to the seatbelt’s taut hold, she dangled precariously. Her ponytail swayed in front of her like the pendulum of the clock in Gran’s living room. Traffic on these old mine roads this time of year was few and far between. So unless someone happened along...

God, I really need Your help. I know You already know that, but if You could please show me what to do.

Slipping a thumb under the satiny webbed fabric that held her captive, she moved her hand upward until she reached the harness. Her grip tightened as she wiggled, willing her back against the seat, trying to make herself as small as possible. Then, bracing one hand against the roof, she fingered the red button.

One. Two.

Oof!

Pushing up on all fours, she crawled across the soft gray fabric that lined the top of the cab and took hold of the latch on the passenger door. Because the truck rested on an incline, opening the door vertically would take all the effort she could muster. Pulling on the handle, she pushed with her shoulder but the door refused to budge.

She peered through the window. The sight of crumpled metal made her heart sink. She could only pray the damage wouldn’t impede the window’s descent. If so, she’d have to break the glass.

With the odor of gas growing stronger by the second, she hit the switch and the window disappeared into the door.

Thank You, Lord.

Blakely pushed through the opening.

Grasping at roots and spindly limbs, she clawed her way back up the steep slope. Cold mud seeped through her jeans, chilling her to the core.

Thirty feet later, she hoisted herself over the edge and stumbled across the narrow strip of road. The late morning sun warmed her face as she drooped against the wall of rock and filled her lungs with mass quantities of fresh spring air.

The untouched beauty of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains spread in every direction. Still adorned with their winter white, the jagged summits splayed across a pristine blue sky.

She rinsed her hands in a steady stream of run-off that rained down the face of the mountain before retrieving her phone from the pocket of her denim jacket. She unlocked the screen to see her favorite nine-year-old smiling up at her from the device, his big brown eyes alight with excitement.

For nearly ten years her greatest fear had been losing her son. At this moment she couldn’t help wondering, what if Austin had lost her?

She glanced down at her bright pink tour vehicle, unable to stop the tears trailing down her cheeks. Who would take care of Austin if something happened to her?

Using the sleeve of her jacket, she wiped her tears away as she dialed Dan Carthage. Her mechanic and part-time guide would know what to do. “Please, please be there.”

One ring. Two. Th—

“Hello.”

“This is Blakely. I need your help.”

Forty-five minutes later, Dan’s Toyota SUV rounded the bend. But he wasn’t alone.

Surely he hadn’t brought her grandmother. The old girl would be beside herself if she saw the wreckage.

Dan, who was more family friend than employee, bolted from the SUV and hurried to meet her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She gestured toward her 4x4 pickup that had been specially outfitted to carry up to nine passengers in open-air comfort. “It’s the truck I’m worried about.” Memorial Day weekend was just a little over a week away. The kickoff of the high season. The loss of a vehicle would mean fewer tours. Fewer tours generated less income. Income she counted on to pay the bills.

Ross Chapman would have a field day with this. Only a couple of hours ago, her rival had offered to buy Adventures in Pink.

Talk about nerve. Granddad started this company thirty-five years ago with a dream. A passion for sharing the splendor of these mountains with others. And he left Adventures in Pink to her. She couldn’t imagine selling.

Dan let go a low whistle, distracting her from thoughts of Ross Chapman. “You walked away from that?”

“Piece of cake.” Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the other person—tall, dark and definitely not Gran—rounded Dan’s vehicle.

Oh. My.

She blinked twice, her pulse racing once again.

His dark brown hair was shorter than she remembered, but those root beer eyes that had haunted her dreams for longer than she cared to admit hadn’t changed one bit.

Tugging at her jacket, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Blakely....” Dan dragged out her name as though she’d embarrassed him. If he only knew. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Lockridge. I was at the doctor’s office in Ridgway when you called. He offered to come along and help.”

Of course, he did.

“Hello, Blakely.”

She visually traced the outline of his face, the high cheekbones, his lazy smile. The last time she heard from Trent Lockridge he was in Albuquerque, riding off into the sunset with someone else. So he’d made it through medical school after all.

“You two know each other?” Dan’s gaze flitted between them.

“It’s been a while, but yes.” Trent’s scrutiny had her feeling like a disfigured bug under a microscope.

No telling how many kids he and his wife had now. Probably a whole houseful. Aside from becoming a doctor, Trent’s greatest dream had been to have a family.

Looked like he’d gotten everything he ever wanted.

Jutting her chin out, she said, “I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”

His stare faltered as he toed an embedded rock. “I thought Dan explained that. I work at the clinic.”

“Since when?”

He looked at her now. “Since Monday.” Was it her imagination or did Trent’s shoulders drop a notch?

“Well, you’re not working on me.” Simmering anger and more what-ifs than she could count propelled her toward the SUV. A few swift steps into her escape, though, her head swam. Flashes of white light darted through her vision. She tripped.

“Easy.” Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and kept her steady until she regained her wits. When she did, she quickly extricated herself from Trent’s grasp.

“Looks like somebody’s had a little too much excitement.” He turned to Dan. “Let’s get her to your truck.”

To her dismay, they flanked her, wet gravel crunching in surround sound. Her mud-covered jeans had begun to dry and were slapping against her legs like a sandwich board. Miserable. And oh so unattractive.

Dan opened the door and Trent offered his hand to help her inside. She ignored the gesture. The last thing she needed was help from Trent Lockridge.

“You probably ought to give her a once-over, Doc.” Dan adjusted the brim of his faded Broncos cap. “Rose Daniels would have my head if I let anything happen to her granddaughter.”

Great. Trapped between two wannabe heroes.

She settled sideways in the backseat, keeping her filthy duck boots on the threshold. “I’m fine.”

“What were you doing up here anyway?”

“Checking out the four-wheel drive.” Not to mention venting after Ross Chapman’s visit. Still, with all the rain they had yesterday, she should have been on the lookout for rock slides.

“And?”

“Works just fine.” She glanced over the edge. “Or did, anyway.”

“Let’s just be grateful you’re okay.” The sincerity in Trent’s expression sparked something deep inside of her, but she stomped it out like a wayward ember on parched grass. After all, he was a married man. Along with a multitude of other things.

“He’s right.” Dan visually scaled the face of the mountain. “Things could have been a lot worse, regardless of how well you know these roads.”

Focusing on her grubby hands, she picked at the dirt imbedded under what little fingernails she had. “How long do you think the truck will be out of commission?”

Dan shrugged. “Can’t say until we get it back to the shop.”

While Trent disappeared around the back of the vehicle, she slid the elastic band from her ponytail. “Were you able to call the wrecker?”

Dan nodded. “Promised to get up here as soon as possible.”

“Good.” She worked her fingers through the tangled tresses. “What do you think the odds are of us keeping this little faux pas under wraps?” In a town as small as Ouray, news like this spread faster than butter on a hot griddle. Damage control would be imperative.

“I’ll certainly do my part.”

Blakely grimaced and sucked in a sharp breath. Pain radiated from a hefty lump on the left side of her head. Regrettably, Dan caught her pained expression, too.

He inched closer, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Uh, Doc, I think we’ve got a problem.”

“It’s nothing. Really. Just a little bump.”

Trent pushed in front of Dan and set a small bag on the floorboard. “Why don’t I have a look? Just to be safe.”

“She’s all yours, Doc. I’m gonna go check on the truck.”

“Be careful,” she said as Dan turned away. “The gas smell was pretty strong.”

“Did you shut off the ignition?”

She cringed. That should have been her first instinct. She shook her head. “Guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” With a quick smile, Dan disappeared over the ledge, leaving her alone with the one person she never wanted, or expected, to see again.

Trent’s broad-shouldered physique hovered over her now, so close she caught a whiff of his aftershave.

“Where does it hurt?”

She pointed to the side of her head, eager to be anywhere but in Trent’s presence.

His fingers ran along her scalp, unleashing a flood of emotions.

“Ow!” She thrust a protective hand over the sore spot. But as Trent’s deep-brown gaze collided with hers, long-suppressed memories escaped the darkened corners of her heart.

The heady rush of first love. The crushing blow of betrayal.

* * *

They say time heals all wounds. Evidently, eleven years wasn’t long enough.

Trent recognized the hurt and trepidation in Blakely’s blue eyes. Pain that had nothing to do with her head.

“You’ve got a goose egg the size of Mount Sneffels.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” She waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He pulled a penlight from his breast pocket. “Look straight ahead.”

As much as he’d tried, Trent had never forgotten Blakely or that summer. When they finally said goodbye, they were counting the days until they could be together again.

Unfortunately, that never happened.

Instead, she got a phone call and news that he was marrying his ex-girlfriend.

The memory clamped around his heart.

If only it had been Blakely who carried his child instead of Lauren.

He flicked the tiny beam in and out of her line of vision. “Dan tells me you have The Jeep Company now.”

“You mean Adventures in Pink.”

He chuckled. “That’s...interesting.”

Her gaze remained fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “More than interesting. We’re Ouray’s premier adventure destination. And we’ve got the best maintained vehicles in town. Besides, real men aren’t afraid of pink.”

He pocketed the light again, his gaze drifting toward the ledge. “I don’t expect you’ll be using that one anytime soon.”

Her shoulders slumped, her long golden waves tumbling around them. “Unfortunately.”

He took a step back. “Without turning your head, I want you to follow my finger.” He moved it back and forth, up and down.

“So...you live in Ridgway?”

“Ouray, actually.” The picturesque town was what had enticed him to take the temporary job.

Her eyes widened. “With your family,” she said more as a statement than a question.

He dropped his hand, wishing he could turn back time and erase the pain he’d caused Blakely. “My wife died two years ago.”

She straightened. “What about your children?” She shook her head. “I mean, child?”

“Lauren miscarried shortly after we married.” Then proceeded to inform him she wasn’t interested in having children at all. Robbing him of the only thing he wanted more than becoming a doctor—a family.

“I see.” Blakely’s brow furrowed, her full lips pursed. A reaction he only wished he could interpret.

“Anything besides the dizziness I should be aware of? Any nausea?”

“No.”

“Blurred vision?”

“No.”

“So far, so good. Are your grandparents still at the motel?”

“Gran is. Granddad died last fall.”

The news felt like a physical blow. “Bill was a good man.” Without him, Trent never would have come to know Jesus.

“The best.”

Memories took over, making him smile. “Quite the card, too. I’ll never forget when he drove me up to Black Bear pass. Had me in stitches the entire way.” He held open his palms. “Now squeeze my hands.”

“What?”

“I need to test your strength.”

“You must be out of your mind.” Blakely hopped out of the vehicle, started toward the ledge, then turned, her blue eyes penetrating like a laser. “So how did you know I was here? Internet? Social media?”

“What? No. I had no idea you were in Ouray until Dan mentioned your name on the ride up here.” After all, her dreams had been in Denver, picking up where her father’s left off when his plane crashed. All she’d ever talked about was getting her degree and claiming the helm of BD Industries.

She kicked at a rock, sending it sailing over the ledge. “You must still think I’m the same naive girl you knew all those years ago. But come on, Trent, we both know how much you wanted a family. So why don’t you admit the real reason you’re in Ouray.”

He’d always loved her fiery spirit. A perfect match for that strawberry-blond mane of hers. But apparently he’d lost his touch in their battle of wits.

“Blakely, what are you getting at?”

“Do I really have to spell it out?” She closed the distance between them, her face growing redder with every step. “Austin is my son. You chose not to be a father to him. So if you think I’m just going to let you waltz in here after ten years...”

Her words pummeled him like the boulders that fell from these mountains. Son? Father? Ten years?

His mind raced back to one special night almost eleven years ago.

It wasn’t possible.

Blakely knew all about his childhood. How he’d been passed from one foster home to another, never knowing what it was like to be part of a real family. She was the only person he’d ever confided his longing to someday have that family. She would have told him he had a child.

Feeling as though a horse had kicked him in the stomach, he struggled for his breath.

“I have...a son?”

Chapter Two

Trent stepped outside his room at the San Juan Inn, the cool morning breeze making him shudder. Or maybe it was thoughts of the woman he’d run into on Camp Bird Road yesterday. The scorn in her eyes.

How could he have a child and not know it?

Unfortunately, Dan arrived back on the scene before Trent could get the answer to that question and so many more. But now, finding answers was at the top of his agenda.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans and wandered down Sixth Avenue. Nestled in a bowl of thirteen-thousand-foot peaks, Ouray waited in the shadows for the sun to top the Amphitheater. The unique setting of this tiny town captured his heart that long ago summer. Along with a certain strawberry blonde.

By the time August drew to a close, he had entertained thoughts of forever. Never imagining what awaited him back in Albuquerque.

He let go a sigh, his breath visible in the chilly morning air. God may have forgiven him, but sometimes the past crept in, reminding him what a lowly creature he’d once been.

Though You have made me see troubles, many and bitter, You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, You will again bring me up.

The verse from Psalm seventy-one had seen Trent through some of his rockiest days. Both before and after Lauren’s death.

Growling echoed from his midsection. Perhaps some breakfast would improve his perspective. Not to mention a good cup of coffee. That weak stuff they served at the motel wasn’t close to cutting it. Too bad Ouray didn’t have a Starbucks.

Warmth bathed his back as the sun peered over the mountain behind him. He’d never tire of this scenery. The peace and tranquility it offered were what he longed for when he learned of the temporary opening in Ridgway.

He glanced at the Community Center where he’d once had the privilege of escorting Blakely to a dance. Sure, they’d been young—Blakely fresh out of high school—but the bond they’d forged that summer went beyond special. They “got” each other in a way no one ever had. Soul mates. Kindred spirits. With her, he’d felt accepted for the first time. Even loved. And he’d loved her, too.

So why hadn’t she told him he had a child? More important, why did she seem to think he did know?

Raking his fingers through his hair, he prayed she and their son could one day forgive him.

At the corner of Main Street, he waited for a large motor home to lumber past. Once the exhaust dissipated, the most amazing aroma captivated his senses. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of roasting coffee beans. Lifting his gaze, he spotted what was sure to be his favorite new spot: Mouse’s Chocolates & Coffee.

Maybe he wouldn’t pine for Starbucks after all.

He hurried across the street.

“What can I get you?” A bubbly blonde, barely old enough to be out of high school, smiled behind the counter.

After eyeing the menu, he said, “How about a tall Americano?”

“We only have one size, sir. Sixteen ounces.”

“That’ll work.”

Cup in hand, he paused at the corner. Less than a block away, the vacancy sign at The Alps Motel glowed red-orange. Apprehension kept his feet glued to the sidewalk. Were Blakely and his son there? Or did they live in one of the apartments over The Jeep Company—make that Adventures in Pink?

He wanted—needed—answers.

“Trent?”

Turning, he found Blakely’s grandmother, Rose Daniels, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help smiling back. The woman who’d provided him with many a meal that summer and more cookies than he’d had in all the years since had always held a special place in his heart.

“I was hoping I might run into you.” Sincerity sparkled in her blue eyes. “Blakely mentioned you were back in town.”

That must have been an interesting conversation.

“It’s great to see you, Mrs. D.” A motorcycle sputtered past, its engine mimicking the chug-chug of his heart.

“I hear you’re working in Ridgway?”

“At the medical clinic. Yes.”

“Wonderful.” A wisp of white hair escaped her tight bun to dance about her round face. “Bill would have been so happy to know that you achieved your dream of becoming a doctor.”

“I was sad to hear he’s no longer with us. He was probably the greatest man I ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Trent observed the rows of colorful Victorian buildings that lined Main Street. How he wished he could thank Bill for the impact he’d had on his life. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Someday.

“Would you like some help with those?” He gestured to the green reusable grocery sacks that dangled from Rose’s capable hands.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Trent.”

He gathered the trio of bags in one hand and started in the direction of The Alps, making sure to abbreviate each stride so Rose wouldn’t feel rushed.

“How long have you been back in Ouray?” She carefully maneuvered down the sloped sidewalk. No matter where you went in this town, you were either walking up or down hill.

“Since Sunday. I’m staying at the San Juan Inn.”

“What?” She sent him a sideways glance. “Not The Alps?”

“Uh...” The muscles in his jaw tightened. The Alps had been his first inclination.

She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m teasing. The San Juan Inn is a wonderful choice.”

Relaxing, he eyed the planters of red, white and purple flowers that graced the front stoop of the Daniels’ home. The picket fence surrounding the tiny yard added an old-world charm to the beige two-story that also housed the motel’s office.

Rose held open the gate, and he followed her to the door, his desire for answers getting the best of him.

“Tell me about my son.”

The old woman looked bewildered for a moment before a proud smile erupted. “Austin is a good boy. Kind, friendly, active.” She chuckled on the last word. “And he looks just like his father.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He glanced down at a small patch of grass, emotion clogging his throat.

“You will.”

“I promise, Mrs. D, I never knew. If I had...”

She laid a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Neither Bill nor I ever doubted you, Trent. We may not have understood, but we never stopped praying for you.”

He studied the woman in front of him, who, even now, after everything that had happened, made him feel loved. So confident. Wise. Caring.

Somehow, he had to make things right.

She reached for the doorknob, turned it, but the door refused to budge. “Oh, this silly thing.” She shoved one more time and it jerked open. “Bill had planned to put in a new one this winter.”

Only then did Trent notice the weather-worn wood on the bottom half of the door. “Well, I’m pretty handy. If you’re not in a big rush to get it fixed, I’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

“Only if you’ll let me pay you.”

“I won’t hear of it.” He handed her the bags. “However, you do make the best peanut butter cookies I’ve ever had.”

That earned him a grin.

“You can have all you want.”

“So is Blakely at Adventures in Pink?”

“Should be.”

He raised his coffee cup. “Wish me luck.”

“I’ll do you one better.” She winked. “I’ll pray.”

“Thank you. And I’ll be in touch about the door.”

He headed down the alley across the street then eased left at Seventh Avenue. Two bright pink four-wheel-drive pickups with three rows of bench seats were parked in front of the familiar blue building, just waiting to introduce visitors to all these mountains had to offer.

The long narrow bench where Trent had shared countless conversations with Blakely and her grandfather still stretched across the front of the building. Trent had lived in one of the upstairs apartments along with a couple of fellows he’d dubbed Chaos and Destruction. His escape from the madness had been this bench, taking in whatever bit of history or insight Bill chose to impart.

Now, his heart hammered against his ribs as he opened the door and stepped inside.

A mural of Twin Falls was the first to welcome him, followed by a tiny dog with a high-pitched bark.

“Jethro.”

The voice didn’t belong to Blakely, and Trent was surprised by the hint of disappointment that swept over him. He’d have expected relief.

Instead, a green-eyed brunette glared at the pup from behind the counter. “Don’t mind him. He’s all bark but no bite.”

“That’s okay.” Trent knelt, holding out his fist to allow the animal to sniff. “You were just saying hello, weren’t you?” He stroked the dog a couple of times then straightened, returning his focus to the painting. The attention to detail was so pronounced that he could almost hear the roaring waters and smell the Columbines and Indian Paintbrushes. And was that—he leaned closer—a marmot?

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He faced the thirty-something woman. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Our owner did that.” She leaned back in her chair. “She’s quite a talented lady.”

“Blakely.” He’d recognize her work anywhere. Work that seemed to have improved with age.

“That’s her.” She cocked her head. “Are you a friend?”

“I’d like to think so.” Even though Blakely might disagree. He approached the counter. “Is she here?”

“She’s out in the shop. I’d be happy to get her—”

The telephone rang.

“Excuse me.”

While the receptionist took the call, he roamed the selection of T-shirts, bumper stickers and other souvenirs near the front windows. What a great addition, as was the snack bar in the corner that boasted sodas, coffee and water. They’d really ramped up the old Jeep company.

The telephone conversation grew lengthy, and impatience got the best of Trent. After catching the brunette’s eye, he let himself out the back door.

An acrid odor assailed his nostrils the moment he stepped into the garage. The place had more rubber than a tire store. Wheels were stacked five high throughout the space, with more lining the walls overhead.

The whir of an impact wrench cut the air. Blakely was out here, all right. But where?

Two pink Jeep Wranglers and a large red tool chest later, he found her.

Squatting beside a third Jeep, Blakely’s movements were as adept as any pit crew member at the Indy 500. No sponsor-littered coveralls for her, though. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, pink, of course, with the company’s logo in white lettering. Her hair had been gathered into a ponytail that trailed down her back.

His fingers twitched. He’d always loved her hair, the feel, the smell. Not to mention those cute freckles.

Something cold and wet touched his hand then, interrupting his reverie.

He looked down to find a golden retriever smiling up at him, tongue lolling out one side of its mouth.

Instinctively, Trent stroked the animal’s head before returning his gaze to Blakely.

The noise stopped.

She pushed to her feet and moved toward a stack of tires, never noticing him.

He knew he should say something, let her know he was there. Instead, he just stared, still rubbing the dog’s ears. The woman before him was prettier than the girl he remembered. But it was what was on the inside that had drawn him to Blakely. Strength. Passion. Loyalty. How could he have been fool enough to let something like that go?

Because you messed up big-time, buddy.

Wincing at the memory, he watched Blakely hoist another tire.

“Those things look heavy. You should ask for help.”

She flinched but quickly recovered. “I’m pretty good at doing things myself.”

Double meaning inferred, he was certain.

He perused the damaged tour truck in the next bay. Studying the wreckage, he shivered. Thank You for watching over her, Lord.

“You always did love being up here with your grandfather.” He shortened the distance between them. “I’m not surprised he passed it to you.”

Mounting the tire onto the axle, she all but ignored him, her shoulders rigid.

He came alongside her then, the retriever still at his heels. “How’s the head?”

“Don’t tell me you’re here for a house call.”

“No. Just curious.” He gathered a bolstering breath. “I’d like to talk to you about my son.”

Latching on to the hose that dangled from a reel overhead, she fired up the noisy power tool again, making conversation impossible.

Before he could figure out his next move, a young boy appeared through one of the open garage doors.

Trent’s heart pounded when he saw the shock of dark hair that curled over the boy’s ears and brow. His eyes were the color of coffee, just like Trent’s.

He recalled how Blakely used to tell him his eyes were root beer colored and wondered if she did the same with Austin.

The boy was small for his age, but he’d grow out of it. For years, Trent had been the shortest one in his class. Then, almost overnight, he’d hit his growth spurt and surpassed them all.

The noise stopped when Austin touched Blakely’s shoulder.

“Can I go to Zach’s house?”

Standing, Blakely sent Trent a warning glance before turning her attention to her son. “Did you finish your chores?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled, eyeing the basketball in his hand. “I take it you two are planning to shoot some hoops?”

“Yeah.”

Trent watched the exchange in amazement. The boy shared his mother’s smile. They obviously had a good relationship. And Trent liked that Austin had respect and manners. Back in Albuquerque, he’d encountered kids Austin’s age who thought they could say or do anything they pleased without any concern for others.

“Will you be home for lunch?” she asked.

Austin was already out the door. “Yeah. Zach and his parents are going to Montrose at noon.”

“Good. Ellie Mae told me she wants you to take her for a walk.” She massaged the dog’s head.

“Oh, Mom.” He waved, trotting up the alley, bouncing the ball as he went.

Trent stared after him, his heart bursting with an emotion he’d never experienced before. Unequivocal and unconditional love for a boy he’d never even met.

* * *

Blakely watched after her son, then cut a fiery glare at Trent, pointing the impact wrench in his direction. “Don’t think I’m buying this bit about you being here as mere coincidence. But if you think you’re going to get your hands on Austin, you’re crazy.”

“How could you not have told me, Blakely? You of all people—”

“Is there a problem here?”

Oh, no. Please, not now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ross Chapman at the rear of the Jeep Wrangler, scrutinizing her first, then Trent.

Despite the color leaching from her face, she turned Ross’s way. “Not at all.”

Neatly bearded with an ever-expanding paunch, the annoying Texan moved closer and extended his hand toward Trent. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Ross Chapman.” His crooked smile reminded her of a politician or unscrupulous salesman. Ever ready, usually insincere.

Trent hesitated before acknowledging the gesture and introducing himself. Apparently even he sensed the guy was a creep.

“Dr. Lockridge was just leaving.” A stern glare accompanied her formal reference.

Straightening, Trent appeared to regard her with a challenge of his own. “Yes. I believe we’re finished. For now.”

He got points for knowing when to walk away. Then again, he was good at that, wasn’t he?

Blakely tempered her anger and addressed her next problem.

“What can I do for you, Ross?”

He moved in her direction, eyeing the battered tour vehicle. “Heard you had a little accident the other day. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

If he thought she’d believe that, the man was delusional.

“Good thing you weren’t carrying a bunch of tourists.”

She rested her elbow on a stack of tires. “You know, Ross, that’s one difference in how you and I do business. To you, they’re merely tourists. To me, they’re guests.”

“Call ’em what you want. We both rely on them to pay our bills.” His gaze roved the truck again. “Word travels fast in a small town. Sure hope this doesn’t hurt your business.”

Panic and anger burned a trail from her belly to her throat. Still, there was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of losing her cool.

“I’m not worried.” Willing her body language to follow suit, she shifted the power tool to her left hand and held out her right. “Thank you for your concern, Ross.”

His green eyes narrowed, drawing his bushy eyebrows closer together.

Obviously, her reaction wasn’t what he’d expected.

Good.

Ignoring her outstretched palm, he exited the garage.

Blakely turned back to the Jeep, feeling as though she might collapse. Her insides were as unsteady as a Tilt-a-Whirl. Would Ross really slander Adventures in Pink? What if Trent tried to take Austin?

No. She wouldn’t allow either one to happen.

Locking the impact wrench over a lug nut, she let it whirr. Tears stung her eyes. Her worst nightmares were coming true.

With the wheel secure, she rested her forehead against the black rubber. I can’t do this, Lord.

How would she ever find her footing when everything kept crashing in around her?

She sniffed. She had to find a way.

Because she could not—would not—lose her son or Granddad’s business.

Chapter Three

Trent wandered the streets of Ouray until the noon whistle pierced the air the way regret pierced his heart. Austin had been forced to pay the price for his indiscretions. Trent knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a father, and he had vowed no child of his would ever suffer the same fate. That’s why he’d married Lauren in the first place. Even though he’d loved Blakely.

He meandered up the steep slope of Eighth Avenue, the roaring current of Cascade Falls drowning out all other sound. Too bad it didn’t cover the turmoil thundering through him.

Hurt and anger were still at loggerheads over Blakely’s decision not to tell him about Austin. Was it because she didn’t want him to feel trapped? Or maybe she didn’t find out until after he was married. Whatever the case, she’d kept him from knowing his son.

Guilt twisted his insides. He could only imagine the challenges she’d faced as a single parent. It couldn’t have been easy, raising a child alone.

He plunked down on a boulder near the falls and watched the water plummet to the raging stream below. The turbulence mirrored his mood.

Sunlight sliced through a canopy of ponderosa pine and aspens as giggles drew his attention to a couple of kids leaping from rock to rock.

“Stay away from that water,” the mother warned her wayward children.

While his little sister complied, the young boy inched ever closer, an adventurous smile firmly in place. With a quick lunge, his father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away.

“Come along, son. Your mother wants to get our picture.”

Trent envied the scene. His life could have been so different. Full instead of empty.

I’ve decided I don’t want children, Lauren had said after the miscarriage.

His dreams of a family shattered.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

The kids’ mother sent him a pleading look. “Sir, would you mind taking our picture?”

“Sure.”

“All right, gang...” She herded her small family together, positioning them in front of the landmark. “This one’s for the Christmas card.”

“Cheese.”

Trent returned the camera and trekked away from the happy family, wishing he could douse the ache for one of his own. Everything he’d ever wanted was here in Ouray. And he never even knew it.

“Slow down, girl.”

A golden retriever careened toward Trent, pulling the dark-haired boy at the other end of the leash.

Austin.

Trent’s chest thudded with anticipation as he bent to intercept the dog.

“Ellie Mae....” Austin moved closer, shortening the leash as he approached. “Sorry, mister.”

“Ah, it’s all right. We’re friends, aren’t we, Ellie Mae?” He rubbed harder.

The pooch sat at Trent’s feet, tongue dangling, and continued to enjoy the affection.

“She sure likes you.”

Trent savored the smile on his boy’s face, the way it sparked his brown eyes. “She’s a golden retriever. I bet there aren’t many people she doesn’t like.”

“Yeah.” Austin knelt beside the animal and stroked her back. A smattering of freckles dotted his nose and cheekbones—like Trent had at that age. “You were at my mom’s shop.”

“You’re a very observant young man. I’m Trent.”

“I’m Austin.”

“I know. Your mom’s an old friend of mine.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you know my dad?”

Trent recognized that gleam of expectancy. For years after his mother died, he’d held on to the hope of one day meeting his father. He wanted to reveal to the boy that he was his dad. However, he knew that wasn’t necessarily what was best for Austin.

“What has your mom told you about him?” Bolstering himself for what could be an uncomfortable response, he focused on a couple of magpies vying for a scrap of bread.

“Not much.” Austin shrugged. “Just that he loved me, but he had to go away.”

The reply surprised Trent and pricked his conscience. At least Blakely had acknowledged him in some sense.

He inhaled the aroma of pine. “She’s right, you know.”

“So you do know my dad.”

Trent’s gut clenched. He wouldn’t lie by saying no, but even if he said yes, would Austin perceive it as a lie whenever he did learn the truth?

“Do you think I’ll ever meet him?”

Thankful for the reprieve, Trent said, “That, I can promise you.”

Austin beamed.

“By the way...” Trent straightened. “How was the basketball game?”

The boy stood beside him now. “Too short.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

Trent wasn’t ready to relinquish these few precious moments with his son. “Well, I’m not doing anything. How about a game of one-on-one?”

“You mean it?”

“Sure. There’s got to be a hoop around here somewhere.”

“There’s one at the park. Just down the road.” Austin pointed in the direction of the city’s hot springs pool. “I’d have to get my ball, though.”

“No problem. Why don’t you let Ellie Mae run you home, and I’ll meet you at the park?”

“Awesome!”

As his son jogged away, Trent wondered how Blakely would react if Austin told her who he was meeting. He’d give it an hour. If Austin didn’t show by then, Trent might have to pay her another visit.

The roar of the falls faded in the distance as he picked his way back down the rocky terrain, heading in the direction of Fellin Park. Obviously he and Blakely still had plenty to talk about. But one thing was for sure—now that Trent knew about Austin, nothing would keep him and his son apart.

* * *

Blakely was ready for a long soak in the motel’s hot tub. Or maybe she’d sink into a bubble bath where she could be alone. Her body ached from lifting heavy-duty tires. Her mind reeled from worrying about Trent and Ross, her son and Adventures in Pink.

Plus, she had no idea what to fix for dinner.

She cut through the motel’s front office, stopping to check how many guests were booked. It wouldn’t be long before every motel in town would be filled to capacity, especially on the weekends.

“Gran?” She continued down the hall that separated the office and housekeeping areas from the main part of the house.

“In here, dear.”

Jethro yipped, stopping when Blakely scooped the Yorkshire terrier into her arms. Ellie Mae nudged her hand, looking for some love of her own.

Blakely leaned against the doorjamb of the laundry room. The fragrance of spring-fresh fabric softener filled the air. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Gran smiled, pulling another load of white towels from the dryer. “You look beat.”

“Nothing a good dinner and tub of hot water won’t cure. Where’s Austin?”

“Still at the park, I guess.” Her grandmother halved then quartered a wash cloth and set the neat square on the stainless steel worktable. “He did tell you, didn’t he?”

“Yes. I just thought he might be home by now.”

“Well, if I know my great grandson, he probably ran into one of his friends. He’s a good boy, though. He’ll be home before dark.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She nuzzled the soft fur on Jethro’s neck. Gran was usually right. Blakely wished she could talk to her about Ross Chapman. But it would break Gran’s heart. After all, she and Granddad had run two of the most successful businesses in town for almost forty years. Through good times and bad.

Now the season hadn’t even started—her first as owner—and Adventures in Pink was already on rocky ground.

Shoving a stack of towels aside, Gran rounded the long table. “Would you prefer I fix dinner?”

“No, I’m just being whiney. You have enough to do.” With Granddad gone, responsibility for the motel fell solely on Gran. Yet she never complained.

Blakely would do well to take lessons.

The bell dinged in the office.

“Putting on new tires today?” Her grandmother paused on her way out the door.

“How’d you know?”

Gran ran a thumb across Blakely’s cheek, then held it up to reveal a black smudge. “It’s written all over your face.” Chuckling, she continued down the hall.

Blakely groaned. No telling how many people she’d talked with looking this way.

She set Jethro to the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom. “I am so ready for this day to be over.”

This was the first time she’d prepped a new fleet of rental Jeeps without Granddad’s supervision. With so many details, she feared overlooking something. It was a labor-intensive and time-consuming process, yet one that would pay off when the vehicles went to auction at the end of the season.

Standing by the bathroom sink, she grabbed her face wash and squeezed a small puddle of the creamy cleanser onto her fingertips. It was that attention to detail that kept customers coming back to Granddad’s place year after year. Details Ross Chapman would never understand.

Who did he think he was, barging into her shop, threatening Adventures in Pink? The man made her angry enough to spit fire. The only good part of his visit was the look on Trent’s face when he realized they weren’t alone.

Fear tapped at the edge of Blakely’s mind as she hovered over the marble vanity, scrubbing her face. Why did Trent have to show up now, after all these years? How would she explain things to Austin? He’d always been curious about his father, especially once he started school. Would he be mad at her? At Trent?

She pressed a hot-water-soaked washcloth against her cheeks and forehead. Trent must think her the same girl who’d once fallen for his boy-next-door routine. Accusing her of keeping Austin a secret in the next.

She tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed a soft white towel from the bar on the wall. I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you, Trent. Just know that I’d never keep this child, your child, from knowing his or her father.

How she’d agonized over that dumb letter.

“Handwritten letters flow from your heart,” Gran maintained, presenting Blakely with personalized stationery on every birthday, instilling a long-held appreciation for the dying art.

Well, that was one letter she wished she hadn’t written. She never imagined Trent would wait ten years to take her up on her offer.

Slipping the towel back into place, Blakely glimpsed something in the mirror that she thought she’d buried long ago. Yet there it was, hidden behind steely determination and hundreds of freckles.

The sting of Trent’s betrayal.

She took a deep breath and shook off the self-pity, vowing not to allow Trent or Ross to rob her of an enjoyable evening with her son.

In the kitchen, Blakely stared into the freezer, discounting chicken and pork chops before spotting a bag of frozen meatballs. She checked the pantry, giving herself a mental high five when she found both spaghetti sauce and noodles.

“Can’t get much easier than that.” Unless you counted cereal as a meal. And to her knowledge, Austin was the only one in the house who did.

She put a pot of water on to boil, then emptied the meatballs into a nonstick skillet. She nudged them around the pan as they sizzled.

Time had been kind to Trent. He’d always been ruggedly handsome, but now he was downright gorgeous.

Blakely froze, her spatula in midair. She’d lost her mind.

“You’re just tired,” she mumbled, returning her attention to the stove.

Not to mention lonely.

“Grrr.” She transferred the contents of the skillet to a saucepan and dumped in the jar of tomato sauce.

“Maybe you could stay for dinner.” Somewhere outside the window, Austin schemed with one of his friends. Luckily, spaghetti meant plenty to go around, so she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing that disappointed frown of his.

A few moments later the front door flew open.

“Mom?” He rushed into the kitchen. “Can I invite a friend for dinner?”

“Sure. Who is it?”

“Trent.”

Chapter Four

Trent’s apprehension over Austin’s dinner request paled in comparison to the look of horror on Blakely’s face when she emerged from the kitchen. Pausing at the back of the sofa, she dug her fingers into the soft beige fabric until her knuckles were white.

He knew he should feel sorry for her, but sympathy was mitigated by his desire to spend time with his son. A son Blakely never told him about.

Austin seemed oblivious to the tension, though. “Mom, look what Trent taught me.” In one quick movement, he gave his basketball a spin and uprighted it on his index finger, just like Trent had taught him. His brown eyes sparkled as he watched the rotating orb.

“Hey, you mastered it.” A smiling, and seemingly more relaxed, Blakely dashed for a bookshelf. “We need a picture of this.”

“Mom. You don’t have to take a picture of everything.”

Camera in hand, she paused. “Son, you know me better than that. Of course, I do.”

Trent’s gaze traversed the combined living and dining area. Nearly every surface, both vertical and horizontal, was adorned with family photos.

He had two. One of him as an infant with his mom and dad, and one of him and his mom, not long before she died.

He urged Austin forward. “Don’t give your mom such a hard time.”

Blakely held the digital camera in front of her and stared at the screen. “Ready?”

Austin gave the ball another spin and smiled.

After a brilliant flash, she checked the shot. “That’ll make the scrapbook.”

“The kid’s got a persistent streak.” Trent patted Austin on the back. “He worked at it all afternoon until he got it right.”

Blakely’s smile faltered. “You...spent the afternoon together?”

“Uh-huh.” Austin shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you and Trent are friends.” He set the ball beside the front door. “I can’t wait to show Zach.”

Trent and Blakely friends? At this point, that was stretching it. Though he could certainly hope.

“So you and Trent were playing basketball?” She shoved the camera back into its case, her wary gaze darting between father and son.

“At the park. He’s really good.”

“What are you talking about?” Trent poked a thumb in Austin’s direction. “This turkey ran circles around me.”

Ellie Mae sashayed into the room, stopping between Austin and Trent.

“There she is.” He rubbed the dog’s floppy ears. Just a big old bundle of love, that’s what she was. “You’re a good girl. Yes.”

“Why, hello, Trent.” Rose strolled into the room with Jethro tucked under her arm.

The little Yorkie barked once, stopping when Rose stroked his furry chin.

“Good evening, Mrs. D. And you, too, Jethro.”

“This makes twice in one day,” said Rose.

“Twice?” Accusation laced Blakely’s tone. Seemed she’d been left in the dark on lots of things today.

“Yes, dear.” Rose settled into one of two red swivel rockers and crossed her feet. “We ran into each other this morning, and Trent was kind enough to help me with my groceries.”

Blakely regarded him but didn’t say a word. He could only wonder what was going through that pretty head of hers.

“Well now, don’t everybody stand around. Sit down, sit down.” Rose waved a hand through the air, gesturing to the sofa and loveseat.

Trent snagged the loveseat in front of the window. “This place looks great, Mrs. D.” Gone were the white walls and pink and blue furniture. Shades of gold and orange now warmed the space.

This house had been his haven that summer. Where he’d first experienced the true meaning of family. Though it didn’t look anything like he remembered, an enormous amount of love still abounded in these four walls.

“Doesn’t it, though?” Rose rocked gently back and forth. “After Bill died, Blakely said I needed a splash of color. I was a little leery at first, but she did a great job. I just love how cozy everything feels.”

“She always did have an eye for color.” His gaze drifted to the anxious strawberry blonde behind the couch. “But, then, one would expect that from an artist.”

Her cheeks reddened. Just the reaction he was hoping for.

“Mom said Trent could stay for dinner.” Austin flopped onto the sofa.

“Oh!” Blakely jumped and turned for the kitchen. “I almost forgot about dinner.”

Trent excused himself and followed her, eager to find some way to ease the tension between them.

He found her frantically wiping the stove top when he entered. “Anything I can do to help?”

Halting midwipe, she hesitated before finally turning around. “Um...” Eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip. Something he found sweet and...surprisingly irresistible.

He moved closer, intrigued as her gaze roamed his face, stopping at the scar on his forehead. Did she remember how it got there? That instead of holding that branch on their way up to Chief Ouray Mine, she’d let go. And five stitches later, she vowed to make him cookies twice a week until the end of August.

She looked away. “Actually, it’s Austin’s job to set the table.”

Unwilling to let the moment go, he stepped closer, eliminating what little space remained between them.

“He’s a great kid, Blakely. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thanks.”

* * *

Blakely closed Austin’s bedroom window and waited for him to finish brushing his teeth. Despite the recent warming trend, overnight temperatures still tumbled into the low forties. She wasn’t about to risk him catching a cold.

Picking up the red hoodie from the floor, she savored the scent of little boy before hanging it in Austin’s closet. What would she ever do without him? He was her world. What if Trent tried to take him away?

Austin appeared then. Wearing only pajama bottoms, he scooted under the green camouflage comforter, leaving room for Blakely to sit beside him. “We should take Trent Jeeping sometime.”

Blakely feigned interest. She was sick of hearing about Trent, though, she supposed, she’d better get used to it. “What makes you think he’d be interested in tagging along with us?”

“He said so.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” She straightened a stack of books on his headboard. What else might Trent instigate?

“Yeah. He said he likes going over the passes and stuff, but he’s too chicken to drive.”

She laughed. “Chicken? Was that your word or his?”

“His. I bet he’d like that place we found last summer. You know, the one off the old road to Imogene. Where we found the mine.”

“Hey, short man, what have I told you about those mines? All kinds of danger can lurk in those things.”

“I know. But they’re so cool.”

She ruffled his soft curls and kissed his cheek, thankful he still let her. “You need to get to sleep. It’s late, and we’ve got church in the morning.” Clicking off the lamp on his nightstand, she adjusted his covers one last time. “Sleep tight.”

“Mom?”

“Yes.” She waited at the foot of his bed.

“So, can we take Trent?”

“We’ll see.” It wasn’t like her to be so noncommittal, especially where her son was concerned. But Trent’s sudden appearance made it impossible to think straight.

Descending the stairs, she wondered how she’d even begin to tell Austin about his father. And prayed Trent wouldn’t do so without discussing the matter with her first. When the time came, she’d make sure they told him together.

Downstairs, Gran sat in her rocker, knitting, while a rerun played on the television. Jethro snuggled beside her, and Ellie Mae was passed out at the front door. Probably waiting for Trent to return. You’d think the guy had bacon in his pockets the way she behaved.

“If you need me, I’m going to be taking a bath.”

“Okay, dear.”

Blakely retrieved her romance novel from the coffee table. She must enjoy torturing herself. Why else would she keep buying these love stories?

“You handled yourself very well tonight.” Her grandmother twisted the needles and yarn.

“It sure didn’t feel that way.”

Gran peered over the top of her reading glasses. “You always knew this day might come.”

“Yes, but I always thought I’d have time to prepare.” She swiped at her dirty jeans. “And that I’d be better dressed.” Which wasn’t fair when Trent always seemed to look breathtakingly handsome.

Gran chuckled. “Well, I think we ought to give the young doctor a chance to prove himself.”

“What?” Blakely lowered her voice to a whisper and dropped into the chair beside her grandmother. “How can you say that? After what he did to me?”

“This isn’t just about you, dear.” Gran leaned closer, laying a hand on Blakely’s arm. “Yes, Trent made some bad choices. But you know as well as I do that we serve a God of second chances. Don’t be so quick to judge.” She winked. “You might miss a blessing.”

Blakely shot to her feet. How dare Gran take Trent’s side. “Austin is my blessing. And I never missed a thing.”

Chapter Five

Blakely paced the empty Sunday School room. Out of the handful of churches in Ouray, what were the odds that Trent would show up at Restoration Fellowship? Now she faced the less-than-desirable prospect of sitting with him during worship.

“What are you doing in there?”

She turned to the voice coming from across the hall. Taryn Purcell, Ouray’s best mountain guide, stared over the Dutch door that led to the church nursery.

“Just a little tidying up.” As if to prove her point, she snatched a bulletin from a metal folding chair and tossed it into the trash.

Her friend lifted a brow. “Since when do you and four gray-haired ladies make a mess?”

Blakely frowned, surveying the tiny room. Even the chalkboard remained pristine.

“I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Piano music drifted from the sanctuary as she flipped off the light and crossed to the brightly colored children’s area. Vrooms and crashing sounds echoed from the corner. Blakely smiled at two little boys playing cars. That had always been Austin’s favorite, too.

“Must be an awful lot, then. It’s not like you to lag behind.” Taryn stooped to pick up the Flint’s two-year-old daughter clinging to her leg. “So what gives, Blakes?”

Her friend knew her too well.

The mural of Jesus and the little children on the opposite wall brightened what had once been a dingy, lifeless room. Hard to believe Austin was four when she painted that. Where had the time gone?

Her attention shifted back to Taryn. “More than I care to go into right now.”

“All right, then. How about after our practice session? Think you can squeeze in some extra girl time?”

Blakely caressed the soft golden curls of the toddler in Taryn’s arms. “I was hoping you might be available.” Her secrets were safe with Taryn. Outside of Gran, she was the only one who knew the story of Austin’s father. And she understood better than anyone else ever could. No doubt she’d also have a thing or two to say about Ross Chapman.

“You know I’m always here for you, Blakes. I’ll even bring chocolate.” Taryn’s smile glinted in her aquamarine eyes.

“You’re on, my friend.”

Notes of “Blessed Be Your Name” filtered down the hall.

“I guess I’d better get in there before Austin gets worried.”

“Yes, you should. And try to contain your excitement, would you?”

Anxiety knotted her stomach by the time she moved down the aisle. Thank goodness everyone was standing, making her late arrival less noticeable. Gran, Austin and Trent lined the pew on the third row, so she slipped in beside Gran and joined in the chorus.

When she stole a glimpse of her son, though, Blakely felt as though she were careening off of Imogene Pass.

Austin and Trent looked so much alike, it was like a six-inch time warp. A younger and older version of the same person. When people saw the two of them together, the rumor mill was bound to start churning, hard and fast. How long would she have before Austin started asking questions?

Her palms grew sweaty. She squeezed her eyes shut. Lord, please make this go away. Make him go away.

After the service, Trent followed them outside. Puffy white clouds meandered across the sky, but storms often lurked on the other side of the mountain.

“Mom, can Trent eat lunch with us?” The eagerness in her son’s tone was hard to miss.

Trent touched the boy’s shoulder. “Hold on there, Austin. I imposed on you guys last night. It’s my turn to do the asking.”

While Blakely cringed, Austin waited expectantly.

“I was thinking about heading over to Ridgway to grab some lunch at the True Grit Café. I’d be honored if you guys would join me.”

“All right!” Austin turned to her, looking as though he might wiggle right out of his tanned skin. “You love their fish tacos.”

“Yes, I do. However, Miss Taryn and I have plans this afternoon.”

Gran waved to a fellow church member. “I thought that wasn’t until three, dear.”

“That’s plenty of time, Mom. Come on. Please?”

The thought of having another family meal with Trent was about as appealing as a box of rocks. But that cherubic face pleading up at her made it impossible to say no.

Defeated, she let go a sigh. “Oh, all right. But we’re not going to make this a habit.” Though the words were directed at Austin, she glared at Trent.

“Great. My truck’s parked right over there.” He pointed to a white four-door pickup. “That is, if you don’t mind me driving?”

Before she could respond, Austin ran ahead.

“You all have fun.” Gran tucked today’s bulletin inside her Bible.

“What?” Blakely’s voice drifted up a notch. She quickly tempered it. “You mean you’re not coming?”

“It’s the third Sunday of the month, dear. Florence and I are doing brunch at Bon Ton.” Her all-too-coy grandmother turned to leave, then paused and smiled. “However, you’re certainly welcome to bring me a piece of the Grit’s wonderful pie.”

* * *

Trent couldn’t help noticing the way Blakely hugged the passenger door of his pickup on the drive to Ridgway. Her ponytail was gone today, allowing waves of strawberry-blond curls to spill over her shoulders, free and easy. Now if only she’d loosen up.

Good thing they had Austin to keep things lively.

“Trent, did you know they made the movie True Grit here?” Austin poked his head between the front seats as Trent pulled into a parking space near the park. “The hanging scene was right over there.”

“I don’t believe it.” He put the vehicle in Park.

“Really. It’s true. Right, Mom?”

“Absolutely right.” She opened her door, apparently eager to escape. Like being in these close quarters, having to endure the sweet fragrance of her shampoo, wasn’t driving him crazy.

“That’s why True Grit’s called True Grit.” Austin hopped from the backseat, gravel crunching when his feet hit the ground.

“You ever see that movie?”

“Lots of times. John Wayne is cool.”

Trent stepped down, his thumbs dangling from his belt loops. “I’d have to agree with you there, Pilgrim.” A lame impersonation of The Duke, but Austin laughed anyway.

Though the soft giggle that filtered through the cab was what really got his attention. He’d missed that laugh. Hoped to hear more of it. Even if it meant pulling out his Elvis impersonation.

Across the street, he held the door open as Blakely followed Austin inside the restaurant.

The True Grit Café, a longtime favorite of locals and tourists alike, hummed with energy, not to mention the aromas of Tex-Mex and comfort food that made his stomach growl.

A ponytailed brunette scurried from behind the L-shaped bar and across the wood floor. “Table for three?”

He nodded.

The young woman grabbed a stack of menus and led them past the stone fireplace to a booth at the back of the restaurant.

Blakely slid in beside Austin as the waitress handed out menus and took their drink orders.

“Look.” Trent pointed to a picture of a young John Wayne hanging on the wall next to them. “We get to eat with The Duke.”

Never mind that every other patron did, too. Movie memorabilia lined the walls of the restaurant. And though actor Dennis Weaver had been Ridgway’s most famous citizen, John Wayne still reigned as king at the Grit.

Cheek resting on his fist, Austin opened his menu. “You’re so weird.”

Trent’s mouth fell open. His first slam. Oh, no.

Opposite him, Blakely struggled to contain her laughter. “Welcome to the wonderful world of—” She stopped, leaving off the proverbial “parenthood.” “I mean, welcome to my—”

World, he was tempted to add.

Finally, she gestured to their son. “See what I have to put up with?”

He shouldn’t get enjoyment from watching her squirm, but he couldn’t help it. She looked so darn cute in pink.

Now she hid behind her menu.

Trent tried to focus on his own. “What are you getting, Austin?”

“I can’t decide. Either tacos or a hamburger. They have the best hamburgers.”

“That we do, young man.” The waitress deposited their drinks, tucked the small tray under her arm and withdrew a pad from the pocket of her black apron. “So what would you like to order?”

After a few moments of indecision, Austin opted for the burger. Trent joined him, while Blakely ordered the fish tacos.

“Hey, Trent.” Austin swirled a straw through his Sprite, watching the tiny bubbles on the sides of the glass. “Did you know Adventures in Pink is the best tour company in Ouray?”

“So I hear.” He emptied a packet of sugar into his iced tea, glancing Blakely’s way. “By the way, when did The Jeep Company become Adventures in Pink?”

“About seven years ago.” She peeled the plastic covering from her straw and poked it into her glass of water. “Granddad wanted something to set us apart. We toyed with the idea of red, but that was too generic.” She took a sip. “Pink started as a joke. But the more we thought about it, the more we liked it. Especially once we came up with the name Adventures in Pink.”

“And I see you’re doing more than Jeep tours.”

“Hence the adventure part.” She unrolled the napkin from around her silverware and laid it across her lap. “By teaming up with businesses in Telluride and Ridgway, we now offer river rafting, fly-fishing, even hot air balloon rides.”

“Sounds like strategic marketing.”

“That was our goal. Even if folks don’t remember our name, all they have to do is mention the pink Jeeps.”

“Austin, how do you feel about the pink theme?” Trent swigged his tea.

“It’s pretty cool. I still think they should have flames, though.”

A sudden burst of laughter had him choking and coughing. “You may be on to something, buddy.” His voice cracked as another cough escaped.

“You okay?”

Was that a note of concern in Blakely’s query?

“Raise your arm over your head,” said Austin.

Trent swiped a napkin across his mouth, blew out a slow breath and took another drink. “I’m okay.” He cleared his throat one more time. “But I’d have to agree with Austin. I think flames might be just the right touch.”

She lifted a brow. “Uh...no.”

“Here we are.” The waitress placed each order in front of its owner.

“Wow.” Trent stared at the half-pound buffalo burger on his plate. “Now that’s what I call a burger.”

“Wait till you taste it.” Austin chomped on a French fry.

“Anything else I can get you folks?”

“No, I think we’re good.” With the waitress gone, Trent glanced at Austin then Blakely. “Shall we pray?”

Blakely grabbed Austin’s hand. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Austin stretched his other hand across the table toward Trent.

The simplest of gestures, yet one that meant so much.

He clasped Austin’s hand, then offered Blakely his other.

The softness of her touch sent a wave of awareness through him. And, for a split second, it was as though they were a family.

Dreams he’d tucked away long ago drifted to the surface. Could he still have the one thing that had eluded him all his life?

Maybe...if he wasn’t going back to Albuquerque at the end of the summer.

Unfortunately, he’d made commitments that demanded just that.

Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it’s the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

The verse played across his mind as he blessed their meal. God had a plan. He knew about Austin long before Trent did. It was Trent’s job to trust God to work things out according to that plan.

Attacking the massive buffalo burger, Trent savored the perfectly seasoned meat.

Austin swallowed his first bite of the burger. Licked ketchup from his fingers. “Mom, did you know Trent had a horse?”

“No, I didn’t.” She dared to meet the man’s gaze. “I don’t imagine Vivian is letting you keep that at the inn.”

“No.” He smiled. “She’s part of an equine therapy program in Albuquerque.”

“Trent said he’d take me riding sometime.”

He cut a quick look at Austin. “If it’s all right with your mom.”

Now they both stared at Blakely as another waitress skirted past carrying a large food-laden tray.

“That’d be fine.” She gripped the first of her two fish tacos. “As long as you wear a helmet.”

“A helmet?” Trent and Austin blurted at the same time.

“Mom, I’d look like a dweeb.”

Trent pointed to the photos on the wall. “John Wayne never wore a helmet.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t John Wayne’s mother.”

Multiple conversations and the clanking of silverware and dishes filled the subsequent silence.

“I’ll think about it,” Blakely finally said, brightening Austin’s mood.

He straightened, a smile lighting his face. “It’s not as dangerous as the fire hose water fights.”

“I love the fire hose fights.” Trent set his burger down, recalling the only Independence Day he’d ever spent in Ouray but would always be remembered as the best. “Next to the fireworks, that’s the best part of the Fourth of July.”

Austin leaned his arms on the table. “I know. And Mom’s gonna be in ’em again this year.”

His gaze shifted to Blakely. “You mean you’re in the fire hose fights?”

Her chewing slowed. She nodded.

“Yeah. She did it last year. Only her team lost,” Austin filled in for her.

“We’re planning on a different outcome this year.” She reached for her water. “Taryn and I have a new strategy.”

“Which is...?” Trent lifted a brow in anticipation.

“Pffft. Like I’d tell.” And there it was. The old playful Blakely he’d fallen in love with. Her guard was down, and she was enjoying the banter.

“You shoulda seen it, Trent. Mom had like this giant black bruise on her leg.”

“Sounds kind of dangerous.” He turned a concerned eye her way.

“Not really.”

“Yeah. She’s a tough cookie.” Austin smiled up at her.

She winked. “That’s what Granddad used to say.”

Austin’s attention shifted back to Trent. “My mom does ice climbing, too. And she’s an artist.”

Trent didn’t need Austin to tell him how wonderful his mother was. He knew firsthand. And, if he had his way, he wouldn’t mind getting to know Blakely all over again. But that would require forgiveness. Something she wasn’t likely to offer him anytime soon.

* * *

Heat rushed to Blakely’s cheeks until she was, no doubt, as red as Trent’s button-down shirt. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what her son was up to. The kid was trying to fix her up with Trent. Never had she seen him so enamored with someone.

Staring at her second taco, she all but lost her appetite. The little guy didn’t have a clue. All he knew was that he liked Trent. Enough that he wanted to play matchmaker for his mother.

“Fancy running into you folks again.”

Blakely jerked her head up to find Ross Chapman standing next to them. Beside him, his daughter, Nicole, struck a pose in her hip-hugging jeans and too-tight T-shirt.

Blakely’s first taco morphed into a lead weight in her stomach.

“Ross.” She forced herself to blink. “Nicole.”

Trent stood. “Mr. Chapman. Nice to see you again.”

“No need to be formal. Call me Ross.” He swiveled toward the young woman. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Nicole.”

Slightly younger than Blakely’s twenty-nine years, Nicole was her daddy’s pride and joy. And forever trolling for a husband. Preferably one with big biceps and an even bigger wallet.

Blakely stole a glance at Trent. Hmm...a doctor would fit that bill just fine. And Trent certainly had the biceps. The man obviously never missed a workout.

The platinum blonde struck a flirtatious pose and held a perfectly manicured hand in Trent’s direction. “I hear you’re a doctor.”

Bingo!

“That’s correct.” Trent barely shook her hand. Then again, it was kind of like shaking hands with a wet noodle.

Nicole’s gaze lingered a little longer than necessary—stirring emotions Blakely refused to own up to—before turning her heavily made up face Blakely’s way. “Blakely. Austin. Good to see y’all.” If that Texas twang got any thicker it would drip like honey.

“You, too.” Blakely nudged her son. “Austin, can you say hi?”

“Hi.” He waved.

Nicole waved back, watching him a moment before her green eyes returned to Trent.

“I swear, Blakely, that boy of yours gets bigger every time I see him.” Though Ross’s words were polite enough, she’d had enough dealings with him to realize they weren’t sincere. “He’s at that age where they change so quickly. Better make sure you enjoy every moment.”

And there went the zinger. Ross’s not-so-subtle hint that she should sell Adventures in Pink so she could spend more time with her son.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Blakely draped an arm around her son. “Austin’s my right-hand man.”

Nicole’s gaze flitted from Austin to Trent and back again, shifting Blakely’s panic into full throttle. Nicole might act the part of a dumb blonde; however, she was anything but. More like shrewd and discerning. And definitely not one to dismiss the similarities between Austin and Trent without digging further.

“As it should be.” Ross placed a hand on the small of his daughter’s back and urged her away. “You folks enjoy your lunch.”

Too late. He’d already ruined it.

Trent settled back into the booth. “That was...awkward.”

“Trust me. It could have been worse.” Blakely moved her shaky hands to her lap. If the Chapmans had the slightest inkling that Trent was Austin’s father, they’d find some way to use it against her.

Trent lowered his head a notch. “You okay?”

Far from it. But she couldn’t let on in front of Austin. “Fine.”

“You’ve barely touched your other taco.”

“I think I ate the first one too fast.” She grazed a hand over her stomach. “I’ll take it home and have it later.”

“Excuse me, please.” Austin wiggled next to her.

“Too many sodas?” She stood to let him out.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In Austin’s absence, Trent tucked his paper napkin beside his empty plate. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

If it involved custody of Austin, she wanted no part of it.

Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose. But not while Austin’s around.”

“Agreed.”

She faced him, mustering enough courage to ask the question that had plagued her most. “Trent, are you going to try to take Austin away from me?”

“I don’t think I can answer that right now. I’m still trying to absorb the fact that he’s my son.”

His answer was fair enough. Still, that question would be her constant companion.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Please don’t tell him who you are without me.”

“Blakely, I wouldn’t....” He raked a hand through his hair before clasping the other atop the table. “There’s so much I want to know about him.”

She jiggled the ice in her now-empty glass. “Like what?”

“Like...his middle name?”

“Blake.”

“After your father.” His voice was endearingly gentle.

She nodded.

“I like it. Is he always so easygoing?”

“For the most part.”

“When’s his birthday?”

“Who’s birthday?”

Trent’s uneasy expression mirrored her own. Was that all Austin had heard?

“Yours, of course.” Emotions collided as she scooted over to let him sit down. The day Austin was born was the happiest of Blakely’s life. It was also the saddest.

“June first,” Austin announced with pride.

“That’s coming up pretty quick, isn’t it?” Trent seemed to relax once again.

“Yeah. Hey, maybe you could come to my birthday.”

Blakely glanced from Trent to the Chapmans.

This day just kept getting better and better.

Chapter Six

The sun seemed brighter as Trent strode across the courtyard of the San Juan Inn that afternoon.

If he’d had any idea what treasures Ouray had in store for him, he would have found his way back years ago. His marriage had been over long before Lauren’s boyfriend wrapped his fancy sports car around that light pole. It seemed the closer Trent grew to the Lord, the greater the distance between him and his wife. In the end, the accident merely meant Trent would never have to sign the divorce papers he’d been avoiding for months.

Maybe you could come to my birthday.

The innocent words of a child—his child—soothed the tattered edges of his heart. The only thing sweeter would be to hear someone call him “Dad.”

He smiled and unlocked the door to his room. Soon.

A million questions plagued his brain. Everything and nothing all at once. The minutia. Not only of Austin, but Blakely. Did she still want to be an artist? Why did Ross Chapman make her so nervous? Was that spot behind her ear still ticklish?

Whoa. Wrong train of thought. Stuff like that was what got them to this point in the first place.

He tossed his keys on the nightstand and fished the vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. A stiff dose of reality hit him when he glanced at the screen.

“Hey, Scott.”

“Good news, buddy.” His friend sounded excited enough for the both of them. “The building passed inspection. We close June fifteenth.”

Trent dropped onto the bed. “That soon, huh? Tha—that’s great.”

“Can you believe it? Everything we’ve talked about since medical school is finally coming to fruition.”

Trent rubbed the back of his neck. Opening a small private practice was his dream. But he also dreamed of having a family. Or had, until Lauren dropped the bomb that she didn’t want children. So he tucked away those desires and concentrated on his career.

“Our own practice,” Scott continued. “Do you know what this means?”

That he’d be in Albuquerque while his son was in Ouray. “What?”

“No more thirty-six-hour E.R. shifts.”

“Yep.” That part he liked. Leaving Austin? Not so much.

But he’d made a commitment to Scott. They’d planned and scouted locations for months. Pooled their resources. If he backed out, the dream they worked so hard for would fall apart.

“Rebecca can’t wait to start decorating. She’s got me looking at paint swatches as we speak.”

He could hear Scott’s four-year-old daughter, Daisy, singing in the background. His friend had the whole package. A promising career, a wife, a beautiful little girl...

“What do you think, green or blue?”

He stared beyond the lace curtain, up the face of Twin Peaks. “I’m sure whatever Rebecca chooses will be great.”

Ending the call, he lay back on the queen-size bed and stared up at the ceiling.

God, please help me. I know I messed up. On multiple levels. But I don’t want my son to grow up without knowing his father. Been there, done that. I don’t want Austin to have those same questions and doubts.

He could spend summers with Austin. School breaks, perhaps long weekends. Albuquerque was only six hours away.

But it wouldn’t be the same.

Unfortunately, it would have to do. He’d given his word.

And he never went back on his word.

* * *

Blakely kicked off her pointy-toe flats and shut the bedroom door behind her before ditching the rest of her church clothes for workout pants and a T-shirt. Today was the first time she and Taryn would get a chance to test their new strategy for the fire hose fights. Hopefully, the technique would work as well in execution as it did in theory.

Cinching the drawstring on her sweats, Blakely groaned. Near as she could tell, Austin still didn’t suspect Trent was his father. Though he did think the man was the best thing since video games. And she had to admit, she enjoyed their time together, too. Watching Austin share what he considered her greatest assets.

She flopped back onto the full-size bed and stared at the silver faux-finished ceiling. For the shortest of moments today, they’d seemed like a real family.

Allowing her mind to linger on that life-changing summer, she pushed herself upright and went to her closet. She moved clothes out of the way, digging until she found a plain cardboard box. Her heart thudded as she set the box on the plum-colored comforter. After a long moment, she pulled opened the flaps.

She smiled as she set aside Austin’s baby book, his first pair of hiking boots and the outfit he wore home from the hospital. Then she saw it. The small box buried at the bottom.

With a deep breath, she reached for it, her pulse racing. She laid it in the palm of her hand, carefully, as if it were a bomb that might detonate at any second. Finally, she lifted the hinged lid and stared at the set of artist brushes.

A card with white tulips, her favorite flower, lay on top. She opened it and read.

Dear Blakely. These aren’t as romantic as diamonds or pearls, but the sentiment is still the same. I hope you’ll think of me every time you use them, until we can be together again.

Love, Trent.

She returned the card to the box, allowing her fingertips to linger over the soft bristles. Knowing Trent had spent his hard-earned money—money that was supposed to go toward college—warmed her heart, the same way it had the day he’d given them to her.

She’d used them once.

Her gaze fell back to the larger box. Tucked against one side was a small, square canvas. She reached for it, then hesitated. With a bolstering breath, she latched on to the oil painting and turned it around.