Chapter Five #2
“Looks like you’re a chip off the ole block in some ways but not others.” The man scrutinized Telford like he was a horse he was thinking of buying. “Never wear something that can be used to choke you or let a woman lead you around by it, son.”
“Not your son,” Telford said dismissively.
His voice harder than she’d heard before. He had several inches on the man and at least twenty pounds. She felt the tension coil in his body, and she too planned out defensive moves if the situation got hot.
“Wouldn’t bet against me. Thought it was time for me to introduce myself.” The cowboy held out his hand. “Tarek Reese Telford. Your father.”
*
Telford ignored the outstretched hand. He’d wondered if this day would ever come. Initially, he’d wanted it, but after his mother’s death, the burning of their cabin, he’d only wanted his father to show up so he could beat him bloody for not being there to protect his mother and him.
“You’re a stranger,” Telford said after a beat.
This man had planned this ambush. Had thought to catch Telford off guard, and his fury calmed him.
The scene felt played out in slow motion while he noted the details—regrettable similarities in eye color, shape, brows, and cheekbones.
His hair and what his mom had called his romance hero jawline were all hers.
“I looked you up. I remember your mama now. Fiery barrel racer from Wyoming. Rode like the wind. Hair down to her ass. Didn’t want to be tamed.”
Telford barely resisted the urge to punch the man.
He wanted to pick him up, throw him out of the building, and then toss his custom, but worn boots into the confluence.
Tarek still had his life working the land.
Montana. Family ranch. Legacy. He’d abandoned Telford’s mom and him.
Telford’s gut burned. His mother had lost her land and then her life.
“Wasting your time. All grown up.” He sounded bored even as his heart thundered in his ears. “The reunion window for a father closed decades ago.”
He linked his arm through Ayana’s and moved around the man claiming to be his bio father. He’d looked him up. Right. Only reason he was standing here was he imagined there’d be a payday.
“You’ll find, son, I’m not so easy to shake off.”
A million replies snaked through Telford’s churning brain. How dare he come here now. No warning. Ambush him in his own lobby. A power move.
He brought out his key card for the elevator, but the man was there, deftly swiping the card, and blocking the elevator pad with his body.
“You’re going to want to invite me up.”
“Hell no.” Telford calculated his options.
He could wrestle for the key. Attack. But he didn’t want Ayana caught in the cross hairs. And the loser would probably whine about how he was done wrong and file a lawsuit—offer to walk away quietly for a huge chunk of cash, Telford had no intention of giving him. Ever.
Instead of offended, his bio dad seemed amused. “Going to introduce me?” His eyes walked all over Ayana like she was the riverfront path.
“No. Two minutes,” he stated calmly. “State your business.”
“No need to get so testy,” the cowboy said. His mouth smiled, but his eyes flinted. “You reached out to me.”
“The hell I did.”
“One of those online ancestry sites. I like to keep my hand in. Keep up with my boys. Girls not as much.” He shrugged and winked at Ayana. “Though they got their uses, right, son?”
Telford saw red. Then white. And next to him, Ayana stiffened. And that calmed him. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into family drama. And the man wanted something—money, but it could be something else, and that could cause problems.
The man was a master manipulator. That much was obvious. He operated on charm, razor wit, balls, and no conscience. But why did he think that he … it clicked then.
Over the past couple of weeks, Telford had received a few emails from an ancestry site about matches, which he’d ignored thinking they were an advertisement.
He remembered Cam’s casual statement in the office before he walked out to his death.
Montana. It’s time. Cam and his ideas of legacy and building family hadn’t been just for him but also a way for Telford to explore his past—engage with the family he’d heard about but had never met.
And now he had a showdown with what looked like an advertisement come to life from a western wear catalog with avaricious eyes and a need to throw him off balance.
Damn. Cam. What did you do?
“Throw me a bone, son. I came all this way. Least you could do is invite me up. Give me a beer. Introduce me to the pretty lady.”
“No.”
If he invited him up, he’d be harder to get rid of, and he wasn’t going to contaminate Cam’s space—his space, such as it was—with a womanizing drifter thinking he’d hit pay dirt.
“Looked pretty hot and heavy to me, but judging by your suit, your digs, your business profile, pretty easy for you to pick up some tail whenever you want. We got that in common. Probably a lot more.”
He wasn’t aware he’d made a fist until Ayana clasped her hand over his.
“Name’s Ayana. I am not tail. And if you and Telford are blood, that’s all you have in common—and blood’s not much use unless you intend to spill it.”
The man’s face cracked into a smile that was a punch in the gut because Telford didn’t smile often—Cam was always on him to lighten up—but it was like looking in a mirror twenty-five years into the future.
“Got yourself a fighter, son,” the cowboy who hatefully absolutely should not be his father said, clearly enjoying the scene he was creating, and Telford hated giving that power away. “I like that.”
He tipped his hat to Ayana. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.
Think you’re going to wrangle this cold fish up to scratch?
” He grinned at Cam. “Doubt it, but he runs hotter than he looks judging by his fists. I think he wanted to deck me three times now. We got that in common, too, though I’m not so easy to take down.
I believe, although I could be wrong, that he’s my firstborn. There’s something magic to that.”
Telford gritted his teeth.
Ayana took the card from his fingers and tapped it against her palm. “What do you want?” she asked coolly.
“I’m here to talk to my son. Judging by the looks of you and this building and the articles I’ve read, you’ve done well for yourself, son.”
Here it was—the ask. Telford’s lip curled.
“You’re gonna want to talk to me,” the man said, taking a step in and lowering his voice. “It will be to both our benefits.”
“Nothing about you interests me,” Telford said, coldly, but he heard the hint of Texas in his voice and shut up. Forced calm.
“Not so sure about that, are you.” The cowboy had a hint of a smile again, but it had a mean edge. “I said you’re the oldest boy. You got a younger brother.”
Another hit, but Telford kept that off his face and body. But the word boy was yet another slap.
“Least one. Younger. Bull rider. Better than I ever was. Better than my know-it-all golden boy Irish twin brother ever was. Fool’s getting married in a couple weeks in a little nothing of a town—Marietta, Montana. He has something of mine I just might want back.”
He stepped back. His eyes glinted with purpose, and his mouth curved up.
“Just might see you there, son. Family reunion. I’ll be in touch.” He tipped his hat and sauntered across the glimmering granite floor toward the shafts of sunlight streaming through the walls of windows. He hummed a tune that sounded hauntingly familiar.