Chapter 5 DAVIE
DAVIE
Please don’t be him.
Please don’t be Cormac.
When no one answered the door at the house, I wandered off the porch steps and headed toward a group of men standing by a pen full of goats. My gaze drifted over each man as if one would magically glow with the words, I slept with your sister and fathered your nephew.
Of course, none of them had a tell-tale sign that he was the man I was looking for.
The entire drive here I sifted through explanations and questions, searching for the best way to broach the topic of Hey, you might be a daddy… congratulations! But words deserted me the closer I got to the men.
Except it didn’t matter.
Because a bullish man stormed into the yard, thunder roaring in his wake, before he shouted, “Garrett!” then punched one of the guys in the jaw.
My cry of fear broke the sudden silence, and all eyes turned on me—including the dark gaze of the man emanating fearsome authority and brutality—rather than the bleeding man hunched over in the dirt.
This isn’t right.
I shouldn’t be here.
I can’t bring my nephew, a baby, here. It’s not safe. I’ll have to figure out another way to keep him out of Cody’s greedy clutches.
My gaze remains locked on the dangerous stranger as I slowly retreat. Like a predator’s soft, squishy prey, instinct tells me not to run. Not to turn my back on this man.
Fumbling behind my back, the cool metal of my car’s door handle greets my fingertips, and a breath of relief stutters from my chest.
Or tries to.
It gets stuck in my throat once I register that my escape won’t be so easy.
Because that man is stalking forward. His boots kick up dust clouds of warning; his reddened knuckles flex at his side as if itching to do more harm.
Or to capture an errant visitor.
Me.
“Who are you?” he asks, the low boom of his voice sliding across my nerves to prod them into full-blown panic.
“N-No one. I m-made a wrong turn and…” I flinch when he lifts his hand, and immediately, he stops his advance.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” This time, both his hands raise slightly as if he’s trying to calm a wild horse. “I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s bad luck you were here to witness my blow-up; usually, I’m more professional.”
“You mean you don’t go around hitting coworkers for no reason?”
“Ex-employee,” he corrects. “And not for no reason. Thanks to him not doing his job properly, one of the animals was injured.”
“Oh.”
“Is everything okay?” Another man joins us, his sharp features similar to the one in front of me. “I heard yelling then a scream.”
“Everything’s fine, Connor. I fired Garrett. Can you escort him off the property?”
Curiosity fills the air, but Connor doesn’t press the issue. He spins on his heel to presumably follow instructions from his boss.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing here, sweetheart? Because I doubt a wrong turn took you down my two-mile drive. Most folks course correct at the gravel turnout a hundred yards down the road.”
Shit. I recall the wide patch of rocks he’s talking about, because I did consider making a U-turn and coming up with a different plan for keeping custody of Jesse.
My tensed shoulders slouch at being caught in a lie, and only years of rallying my courage prompts me to speak the truth.
“My name is Davie Overland. My sister is Jessica Overland.” No recognition on his face at the name.
“Last May, a man met a woman at a bar for a one-night stand; that was my sister. I’m here today because she thinks that man might be the biological father of her eight-month-old son.
I’ve come to ask him to take a paternity test. It’s technically court-mandated, but since we didn’t know his last name or address… ”
“How’d that lead you here to my ranch?” The question should come off as accusatory, but surprisingly, his tone remains even. Like he’s processing the news that he or someone he employs might be a dad before jumping to a swift denial.
Thank god.
After witnessing his fury with Garrett, it wouldn’t have shocked me to have his ire turned on me.
“I asked around Main Street. All Jessica remembered was the name Mac and High Ridge. Someone at the hardware store thought a guy named Cormac might go by Mac,” I explain, wringing my sweaty hands together. “This is the Rocking M Ranch, right?”
“It is, and I’m Cormac Madsen, the owner.”
Double shit.
It’s him.
The man who punches his employees, or recently fired ones, might be Jesse’s dad.
He motions to the house. “Let’s go inside and sort this out. I don’t need the whole ranch listening to my business.”
“Uh… Of course.” I don’t blame him for wanting to keep this private, but I’m not thrilled about being alone with him in his house.
You’ll be fine. We’re surrounded by ranch workers, and Linnea knows where you’re at.
If Cormac could be trusted, he had a legitimate reason for flying off the handle. I’d be pissed, too, if someone hurt an animal, but that doesn’t negate the fact that his first choice was to punch a man.
Thankfully, Mom’s revolving door of loser boyfriends never included the violent type, but I’m still wary. Neither Mom nor Jessica have great track records with men.
Even if Cormac barely qualifies as one of Jessica’s men, I can’t imagine he varies much from her usual type—untrustworthy and skeevy.
Okay, so Cormac doesn’t seem skeevy.
Honestly, if my first impression wasn’t of him beating up a man, I’d probably find him attractive with his silver-flecked hair and beard. Those piercing brown eyes narrowed with lines of maturity at the edges.
Too bad his temper concerns me.
Oh, yeah… and he fucked my sister.