Suddenly a Father

Before she could reply, Brooke held up the stuffed animal. “Give Bunny a kiss goodbye, Daddy.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open an inch. “How about a high five?”

Her mouth set in a stubborn way that made Millie think of Jake. Already like father, like daughter. “A kiss.”

He bent forward and touched his lips to the animal’s grungy fur.

“Me, too,” Brooke said, angling her cheek toward him.

He glanced up at Millie, emotion clouding his eyes. She nodded, the tingling in her body rapidly progressing to a full-on tremble.

Jake kissed his daughter’s cheek then the top of her head. Millie wasn’t sure if the sigh she heard came from her or the therapist waiting for him. Jake straightened and she noticed a faint color across his cheeks. The doctor was actually blushing. Why was vulnerability so darned appealing when it came wrapped up in an alpha male package?

* * *

Crimson, Colorado: Finding home—and forever—in the West

Suddenly a Father

Michelle Major

MICHELLE MAJOR grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at michellemajor.com.

For Lauren. You are amazing in so many ways—mother, teacher and friend.

I’m lucky and grateful to have you as my sister.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Millie Spencer took a deep breath, wiped a few stray potato chip crumbs from her sundress and knocked on the door a second time.

As she waited, her eyes scanned the front porch of the large shake-shingle house, empty save for an intricate spiderweb inhabiting one corner. The wraparound porch practically begged for a wooden swing, where a person could sit on a late-summer afternoon sipping a glass of lemonade and watching the world go by. As a girl, Millie had longed for a place like that, but in the tiny condo she’d shared with her mother there’d been no room for any space of her own.

Still no one answered, so she rapped her knuckles against the door once more. This house sat at the edge of town in Crimson, Colorado, but only a few minutes from her sister’s renovated Victorian near Crimson’s center.

She was here as a favor to her sister—half sister—Olivia. Or was Olivia doing the favor for Millie? Millie’d shown up on Olivia’s doorstop a few days ago, beaten down both emotionally and financially. To her relief, Olivia and her husband, Logan Travers, hadn’t asked many questions, just welcomed Millie into their home. Up until today, Millie had spent most of her time curled on the couch watching bad reality TV and overdosing on junk food.

Now she was here, sent to help Logan’s recently injured brother and his daughter. Except it appeared they weren’t home. Which was weird, since Logan had said his brother, Jake, couldn’t drive yet. It was a beautiful late-August day, so maybe the two had walked to the park Millie’d seen a few blocks over.

She was ready to leave when the door opened a crack. She could see a sliver of a man’s face through the opening. “We don’t want any,” he said, peering down at her.

“Any what?” She leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse beyond him into the house. Curiosity almost always got the best of her.

“Cookies or popcorn or whatever you’re selling,” he answered quickly, glancing behind him before the eye she could see, a startlingly blue eye, tracked back to her again. It was the same blue as Logan’s, so this must be the brother. “Do you have a parent with you?”

Her mouth dropped open and she pulled herself up to her full height, all five foot two. And a half. When she wore heels. “I’m not...” she began, but the man muttered a curse and disappeared into the house.

He hadn’t shut the door when he’d turned away. She could still only see through the couple-inch slat, and without a second thought, she extended her foot and nudged the door open wider. She stretched forward but didn’t step into the house. “Hello?” she called and her voice echoed.

The entry was devoid of furniture. Olivia had told her Logan’s brother had recently returned to Crimson, so maybe he had furnishings for his home on order. She hoped his purchases included a porch swing.

A sound reached her from the back of the house. Another curse and a child crying. She bit down on her lip and grabbed her cell phone from her purse, intending to call Olivia and Logan for backup. But the crying got louder, followed by a strangled shout of “no,” and Millie charged forward, unable to stop herself.

She came up short as she entered the back half of the house. Rays of sunshine streamed through the windows, lighting the open family room as well as the kitchen beyond. Her gaze caught on the family room. Unlike the front of the house, the room looked furnished, although it was hard to tell because dolls, stuffed animals and an excess of pink plastic covered every square inch. It looked as if a toy store had thrown up all over the place. Did Jake Travers really have only one child? There was enough stuff here to keep a whole army of kids busy. She forced her eyes away from the girlie mess to the kitchen.

Two tall bar stools were tucked under the island, which was littered with cereal boxes and various milk and juice cartons. A mix of what looked like chocolate milk and grape juice spilled over the counter onto one of the stools and the tile floor, soaking a pile of soggy Cheerios from an overturned bowl.

Jake stood in the middle of the kitchen with his back to her. She noticed immediately that he was tall and broad, wearing a gray athletic T-shirt, basketball shorts that came almost to his knees and an orthopedic boot on his right leg that covered him from midcalf to foot.

He also sported a purple tutu around his waist. Despite the chaos of the situation, she almost smiled at that. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to open the door for her.

In front of him, a little girl was crying and jumping up, grasping for a stuffed animal he held out to the side. It might have been a rabbit and was dripping more juice on the floor. The child had no hope of reaching it. Millie guessed he was well over six foot. When Olivia had sent her here to help Logan’s poor, injured brother, Millie had pictured a debilitated invalid, not the hulking man before her.

She almost backed out of the room and fled, but at that moment the young girl’s eyes met hers. They were the same shade of blue as her father’s, so big they almost looked out of place on her heart-shaped face. Her hair was several shades darker than her father’s, hung past her shoulders, and although she had the enviable natural highlights that children got, it looked as if it could benefit from a good brushing. She wore a pale pink leotard and matching tutu, the very essence of a tiny ballerina. Other than the juice stains down the front of it. Millie felt an immediate connection to her.

The child fell silent except for a tiny hiccup. Her eyes widened as she pointed at Millie. “It’s a real life fairy.”

* * *

Jake Travers breathed a sigh of relief before turning to see what his daughter, Brooke, was pointing at. He hardly cared if a real life fairy was standing in his house. It had stopped Brooke’s crying and already the pounding in his head was starting to subside.

But it wasn’t a fairy staring at him from the far side of the family room. The girl he’d tried to chase away minutes earlier held up a tentative hand and waved at him. Not a girl, he realized now. She was a woman, a tiny sprite of a woman, but the morning light silhouetting her body revealed the soft curves underneath her flowery flowing dress.

“I’m Millie,” she said, nodding, as if willing him to understand her. “Millie Spencer. Olivia’s sister? She and Logan sent me over.” She tucked a strand of chin-length, caramel-colored hair behind one ear, the bracelets at her wrist tinkling as she moved.

Brooke let out an enraptured gasp. “Look, Daddy, she sparkles.”

He narrowed his eyes as he set the dripping stuffed bunny onto the counter. Millie Spencer indeed appeared to be shimmering in the light.

She looked down at her bare arms and laughed, a sound just as bubbly and bright as the noise from her bracelets. “It’s my lotion, sweetie,” she said, taking a step forward. “I must have grabbed the one that glitters.”

He watched his daughter’s face light up. “I want glitters,” she answered, her tone dreamy.

“You said Logan sent you?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, careful of the splint that cradled his right hand. Glitter was the last thing he needed in this already chaotic house.

Millie scrunched up her pert nose. “I was under the impression Logan talked to you about me. That you need help because of...” She waved her hand up and down in front of him. More tinkling from the bracelets.

His back stiffened. Jake hated his injuries, how they’d changed his life and how out of control he felt these days. He vaguely remembered Logan calling last night to suggest babysitting help for Brooke and someone who could drive Jake to his physical-therapy and doctors’ appointments. But Jake had been in the middle of burning a frozen pizza and had only half listened to his brother’s well-meaning offer.

Jake didn’t need help. At least he didn’t want to need help. Especially not from someone who looked as if her best friend was Tinker Bell.

“We’re all good here.”

She glanced around the room before her gaze zeroed in on his waist. “Are you sure about that?”

“We were having dance lessons,” he mumbled as he pulled the crinkly tutu Brooke had insisted he wear down off his hips. He flicked it to the side and gave Millie a curt nod. He could handle this on his own. That was how he’d gotten by most of his life. He wasn’t about to change now.

“I want glitters.” Brooke tugged at the hem of his T-shirt.

He placed his uninjured hand on his daughter’s head, smoothing back her long hair. His fingers caught on something that felt suspiciously like a wad of gum. Damn. He smiled and made his voice soft. “No glitter today, Brooke. Do you want to watch a show?”

Her mouth pinched into a stubborn line. “Glitters,” she repeated then ducked away from his touch. “And Bunny.” She grabbed the stuffed animal off the counter before he could stop her.

She squeezed the bunny to her chest. Jake couldn’t stifle his groan as a trickle of purple liquid soaked her pink blouse. The last bit of command he had over his life seemed to seep away at the same time.

He turned back to Millie, but she’d disappeared.

Oh, no, he thought to himself. Not now when he was willing to admit defeat.

Lifting Brooke and Bunny against his chest with his good arm, he tried to ignore that his shirt was already soaking through. “Let’s go find our fairy,” he told his daughter and was rewarded with a wide grin.

* * *

Millie didn’t stop when Jake Travers called her name. She concentrated on the warm sun and cool mountain breeze instead of her tumbling emotions. Even as a favor to Olivia, Millie had no intention of sticking around where she wasn’t wanted. She made the mistake of turning around halfway through the yard when the little girl cried out.

Jake was struggling down the porch steps, his daughter clutched to his side as he balanced most of his weight on the nonbooted foot. “Are you really going to make me chase after you like this?” he asked as she met his gaze.

“I thought things were all good,” she said as she retraced her steps toward the house.

He stood at the edge of the grass. “I’m used to taking care of myself. Needing help is a bit of a foreign concept.”

“Everyone needs help from time to time.”

He pursed his mouth into a thin line. “Not me.”

Jake was clearly disconcerted by his current circumstances, and Millie felt a twinge of sympathy for him. She could spout platitudes about everyone needing help, but she’d been fending for herself long enough to understand his reluctance to rely on another person.

Before she could answer, Brooke squirmed in her father’s arms and he reached out to steady her. Millie saw him wince as the girl’s elbow jabbed into his splinted wrist. He lowered Brooke slowly to the ground and she clung to his leg. Millie noticed that liquid from the sopping wet stuffed animal had not only drenched his shirt, which now clung to a set of enviably hard abs, but a trail of wetness also leaked into the black orthopedic boot that covered his leg.

He didn’t seem to notice, just stared at his daughter as if he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up with a small child wrapped around him.

Millie cleared her throat and he looked up. “Sorry. I haven’t been a dad for very long. It’s still sometimes amazing that she’s really mine.”

“How old are you, Brooke?” Millie asked, squatting down to the girl’s level.

Brooke, suddenly shy, kept her gaze on her bunny but held up four fingers.

Millie glanced at Jake, her eyebrows raised.

“What did Logan and Olivia tell you about me?” he asked.

“Not much,” she admitted. “That you’re a surgeon who travels around the world. You were injured during an earthquake on an island near Haiti and need help with your daughter while you recover.”

One side of his mouth curved. “That’s an abbreviated version.”

“So I gathered,” Millie answered. She held out a hand to Brooke. “Sweetie, can I help you give Bunny a bath? She’s dripping all over your daddy’s leg.”

“Bunny’s a boy,” Brooke and her father said at the same time.

Millie smiled. “He’s not going to smell very good if that juice dries on him. How about we wash him off, then you can watch while he goes in the dryer?”

Brooke released the death hold she had on Jake’s leg the tiniest bit. “He wants a bubble bath.”

“Of course he does.” Millie straightened and took a step forward, wiggling her fingers. “Can you show me the bathroom? We’ll take good care of him.”

With a tentative nod, Brooke took Millie’s hand. This brought her only a few inches from Jake, who smelled like a strangely intriguing mix of grape juice and laundry detergent. “I’d like to understand the whole story,” she said quietly.

He nodded, his deep blue eyes intent on hers. “I’ll get changed then explain it.” He lowered his voice and added, “I’d rather not discuss the details in front of Brooke.”

The little girl tugged her toward the house. “Bunny wants to smell good.”

Millie started to follow but paused as Jake pressed his uninjured hand to her bare arm. She almost flinched but caught herself, focusing on the warmth of his fingers.

His hand lifted immediately. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “My daughter hasn’t cried for the past fifteen minutes. You have no idea what an accomplishment that is.”

Although she knew it meant nothing, Millie was surprised to feel a tiny kernel of happiness unfurl in her chest along with a shimmer of awareness for Jake Travers. Best to ignore the awareness and focus on the happiness. It had been so long since she’d accomplished anything of value in her life. She’d learned to appreciate even the smallest victory.

“It’s going to be okay, Jake,” she said, hoping beyond all reason that she could make it true for both of them.

Chapter Two

It took Jake longer than he wanted to get cleaned up, which was one more thing to add to his current list of frustrations. As a surgeon with Miles of Medicine, an international medical humanitarian organization, he was used to moving quickly. He’d made efficiency a priority in his life—in movement, time and, most important, relationships. He lived simply, able to pack up with an hour’s notice based on where he was most needed.

The place he was most needed right now was in Brooke’s life, but it galled him how inept and incapable he felt. He hadn’t even bothered with a proper shower because the hassle of maneuvering himself in and out with his ankle and arm wasn’t worth the trouble. Without the boot or splint, he couldn’t put weight on his right leg or use his right arm. Instead he’d done his best to wash off the sticky juice residue in the master bath before dressing in his current uniform of a T-shirt and baggy shorts, the only clothes he could change into quickly despite his injuries.

The door to the guest bathroom was closed as he came down the hall. He was grateful his sister-in-law had found him a rental property with two bathrooms in the main part of the house so that Brooke could have her own space. He couldn’t make out the words over the sound of running water but could hear her sweet voice rising and falling as she spoke to Millie Spencer.

Unwilling to deal with the reality of how much he needed help quite yet, he started the monumental task of cleaning the kitchen. He’d wiped down most of the counters and covered the floor with almost half a roll of paper towels before Millie followed Brooke into the room.

His daughter cradled Bunny in her arms in a fluffy towel. “Daddy, sniff.” She held out the stuffed animal to him. “He smells so good.”

He breathed deeply but all he got was a big whiff of wet fake fur. “That’s nice,” he told Brooke.

Millie grinned at him over Brooke’s head. “Laundry room?”

“To your left just past the table.”

She carried a small plastic stool in her hands. “Let’s get Bunny dry, Brooke. You can watch him spin while your daddy and I talk.”

To Jake’s surprise, Brooke nodded. Since he’d brought his daughter to Crimson, the only time she would let him out of her sight was when she slept. Maybe Millie Spencer was some sort of kid whisperer. Jake sure as hell needed one.

“So you’re Olivia’s sister?” he asked as Millie walked back into the room a few minutes later.

When she nodded, he added, “You two don’t look alike.”

“She’s actually my half sister. We have the same dad.”

“Did you grow up together?”

Her shoulders stiffened even as she gave him a gentle smile. “I’m guessing we only have a few minutes before your daughter gets bored watching the dryer. Is this really how you want to use that time?” She crouched down and began cleaning the paper towels from the floor.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s my mess.”

She didn’t stop to look at him. “Tell me about you and Brooke.”

When her chin-length hair fell into her face, she didn’t bother to push it away. He wanted to reach out himself, to see if the caramel-colored strands were as soft as they looked. The skin on her arms looked just as smooth, although he noticed how toned they were as she wiped up the spill.

“I first learned that I had a daughter two months ago.” He continued straightening the kitchen as her attention remained on the floor. Somehow the fact that both of them kept busy made it easier to tell the story. “Brooke’s mother was a doctor I knew from my travels, another aid worker. We were only together a few times when our paths crossed in the field. Then Stacy disappeared.” His fingers gripped the cup he’d just picked up so hard the plastic began to bend. He released his hold and loaded the cup into the dishwasher. “She found me where I was working near Haiti a couple of months ago to tell me I had a four-year-old daughter back in Atlanta who was asking about her father. Stacy wanted to give me a chance to be a part of Brooke’s life.”

“That must have been a real shock.” Millie stood and threw the wad of paper towels into the garbage.

Jake thought about her observation as he watched her wet a dish towel and begin wiping down the tile floor around the spill. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“It will be sticky otherwise,” she answered. “Keep talking, Jake.”

He hated this part of the story and the guilt and helplessness that went with it. Jake had spent most of his childhood feeling helpless to stop the damage his father caused in their family, and when he’d finally broken free, guilt over the siblings he’d left behind had become his replacement companion.

He’d never expected to return to Colorado, but it was the only real home he’d ever known. The fact that both of his brothers had settled in Crimson and seemed happy with their lives was part of why he’d brought Brooke to his hometown. For a few brief moments when he’d first arrived, he’d hoped this place would have some special effect on him. But he’d only felt overcome by memories and more trapped than when he’d been injured.

His family understood enough of what had happened that they didn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer. “I was shocked, to say the least. I’d never planned on having kids. My work is my life. Being a dad wasn’t part of the master plan. But I didn’t have time to think about what I wanted. Stacy and I argued and she left the hospital late at night. We’d been down there just a few days because of an earthquake and I’d been running on too much coffee and too little sleep. I didn’t even get a chance to process what she’d told me, but I followed her to the hotel. Once we got inside, there was an aftershock almost as big as the original. The roof of the hotel caved in, and she was killed.”

Millie straightened once more, shock evident on her face. “Brooke’s mother died?”

He gave a curt nod. “She should have never come down there like that. Things were too unstable.”

“It was a big risk.”

He looked past her, his guilt weighing so heavily that he finally had to explain in detail how he’d destroyed so many lives. “Stacy had called and emailed me over the course of several months. I thought she wanted to get together again and was avoiding her. I left her no choice but to track me down. In the end, I couldn’t help her because I was pinned under the rubble of the building. I held her hand in those last moments, but that’s all.” He gingerly crossed his arms over his chest. “Her parents were taking care of Brooke, but Stacy made me promise to look after her. She left custody to me, a man who didn’t even know his own daughter.” He shook his head, still unable to believe the events that had brought him here. “I had surgery on my wrist and ankle and then went to find Brooke.”

“The grandparents were willing to let her go?”

“For now.” He clenched his uninjured fist. “Brooke didn’t hesitate, which was the craziest part. Stacy had talked about me, had told Brooke she was going to find her father. My picture was in a frame on Brooke’s nightstand. I walked into their house in Atlanta, and she reached for me as if I’d been her dad forever. Like she’d been waiting for me.”

“Kids can be pretty amazing,” Millie whispered.

“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad, but I owe it to that little girl and her mother to try. Stacy’s parents still want to raise Brooke. I’m not sure what’s going to happen—there’s some nerve damage to my hand and it’s questionable whether I’ll be able to go back to my old job.”