Sheri WhiteFeather - Jesse Hawk: Brave Father

Although Jesse frowned, he accommodated her. “We could sit on the porch a spell, I suppose.” As he turned in the direction of the house, so did the dog. “Do you want a cold soda? I’ve got a cooler out back.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She followed him up the stairs and sat beside him in a twig-style chair.

The rottweiler curled up at Jesse’s feet, clearly content to be near its master. “What’s his name?” she asked, assuming the massively built canine was a male.

“Cochise.”

“That fits him. A warrior’s name.”

“In a sense, he is a warrior,” Jesse said. “He’s trained to know the difference between friend and foe. And he’s been socialized since he was a pup.”

Naturally, Jesse was a responsible pet owner. He wouldn’t own a dog as powerful as a rottweiler without having it professionally trained. As for the strays he claimed to have, they made sense, too. Tricia remembered how he used to bring abandoned kittens into his apartment and feed them, even though he could barely afford food for himself.

“Are all the dogs inside the house strays?”

“Yeah.” He tapped the windowpane and grinned. A curious mutt had its nose pressed against the glass. “I picked them up at the Humane Society just this week. I was in the process of building another kennel when you arrived.”

He turned toward Patricia. She gripped the chair and steadied her breath. Dillon had flashed the same handsome smile earlier that morning. As their gazes met and held, Jesse’s grin faded.

His eyes were guarded, she noticed, but still breathtaking. Most people would call them gray, yet Patricia knew they turned silver when he made love, glittered sensuously when he lowered his head to kiss a woman—touched his tongue to hers—filtered his fingers through her hair.

How many women had there been? she wondered. How many had watched those eyes change color, enjoyed that staggering touch?

Patricia smoothed her skirt. Jesse Hawk should have been hers. He should have come back, kept his promise. On the night he’d taken her virginity, he’d pledged his love forever. They had snuggled in each other’s arms, tasted each other’s skin, made secret vows. Young, romantic vows. And she’d kept hers, kept them locked in her heart until she’d cried herself to sleep at night. No, she hadn’t agreed to move in with him when he’d asked, but she’d had her reasons—good reasons. The young man she’d loved needed a fair chance to pursue his career, and the baby in her womb needed some sort of financial stability. So she’d sent Jesse away, believing he’d return for her.

I’ll never forgive you, she wanted to say. But Dillon has the right to meet you. She had told her son about his father, promising Jesse would be back someday. They just had to be patient and let him finish college.

“I’d heard this place sold a few months ago,” she said, unaware then that Jesse had been the buyer. The property had been purchased under a corporate name.

“I’ve been coming back and forth from my rental in Tulsa, spending weekends out here, trying to get the renovations done. I hired a crew to build the clinic, but I’m doing most of the work on the house myself.”

Immediately she thought about Dillon’s interest in architecture. “I didn’t know you had experience in carpentry.”

He shrugged. “I did a little construction work during college. It put food on the table, paid the rent.”

Patricia wanted to ask him about his education, if his studies had been difficult. She knew dyslexia made reading a struggle. Her son suffered from the same confusing disability. But asking Jesse about college would probably rehash their past and the part her father had played in it—a moot point after all these years. “So I can assume the building out back is a veterinary clinic.”

He nodded. “I share a practice with three other doctors in Tulsa. We decided it was time to open a facility in the country.”

That explained the company that had purchased his house. Apparently Jesse and his colleagues had formed a small corporation, the property serving as a tax deduction. “Looks like things worked out for you.”

“Yeah.”

They sat silent for a time, staring out at the dusty road. A butterfly winged by, and Patricia felt herself smile. As a toddler, Dillon used to chase the butterflies that graced his grandpa’s abundant flower garden.

Jesse rocked his chair. “Are you sure you don’t want a soda?”

“No, but if you’re thirsty, go ahead.”

His chair scraped the side of the house. “That’s okay. I’m all right.”

Think of something to say, she told herself, as they suffered through another bout of awkward silence. She tucked her hair behind her ears while he crossed one leg in male fashion, then uncrossed it, stretching both long limbs out instead. Physically, he’d changed. He’d put on weight, but the virile bulk suited his tall frame, considering it came in the form of muscle. And against the hard wall of his chest lay a small leather pouch, the medicine bag he’d always worn. She knew it contained items that were special to him. He had even placed a small lock of her hair within it. Surely he had discarded that romantic memento long ago.

“So, have you officially moved in?” she asked, not wanting to think about the past.

“Yeah, but I was in California not too long ago. My brother lives there, and his wife had a baby.”

“Your brother? You mean you found him?” Patricia knew Jesse and his older brother, Sky, had been separated as children and taken to different foster homes when their parents died. Since Jesse was only two at the time, he hadn’t known about Sky’s existence until years later. At eighteen, Jesse had begun to search for his brother. But by then, Sky was long gone.

“Sky returned to Marlow County looking for me. So actually, we found each other.” A warm smile touched his lips. “He’s great. Everything a guy could want in a brother. And he has such a loving family. A sweet wife and an adorable baby daughter.”

Hurt and envy pricked her skin. If you had come back for me, you could have had a loving family, too. “Sounds like you two got along well.”

“Yeah. My brother and I talked about everything. Our heritage, our childhood, our work. He’s been learning the Muskokee dialect.” He rocked his chair again. “So what about you, Tricia. How’s your life going?”

“Fine. I’m happy.” I adore our son. He’s my entire world. “I’m a real estate broker.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes. “You buy and sell property for Daddy, right?”

Patricia lifted her chin. The sarcasm in his tone set her on edge. “Yes. I buy and sell property for my father’s business.” A highly successful company Dillon would inherit someday. “The income benefits the family trust.”

“And what a tight little family it is,” Jesse mocked. “Daddy and his precious daughter.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Or are you married, Tricia? Did you bring a suitable young man home for your father’s approval?”

She waved her left hand. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the absence of a wedding band. “I’m single,” she snapped. “But I’ve matured, Jesse. Unlike you. Your childish grudge is most unbecoming.”

“So sue me. Or better yet, try to run my life again.”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Her father had been wrong all those years ago, but he’d made it up to her. He had loved her son from the moment the boy was born. And being a parent herself, she’d come to understand her father’s motives, his overly protective nature.

“I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And I’m glad you’re happy, Tricia.”

Since the gentleness in Jesse’s voice reminded her of the man he used to be, the youth she had loved so desperately, Patricia glanced up at the window for a diversion. Two dogs were perched there now, panting against the glass. She couldn’t help but smile.

“You can let them out. I don’t mind.”

He grinned, flashing a set of straight white teeth. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The dogs, three of them, barreled out the door in a whirl of fur and excited barks. Cochise sat, ears perked, watching the activity. Patricia was all but attacked, nuzzled and nudged with wet noses and hairy paws, so she tried to give each dog equal attention, petting them simultaneously. Jesse laughed as a small wiry brown-and-white mutt made its way onto her skirt.

Jesse knelt to stroke the dog on her lap while the other two lost interest and zoomed down the porch steps, Cochise staring longingly after them.

Jesse turned to his loyal companion. “Go on, boy.”

The rottweiler instantly joined the strays.

While Patricia pretended to watch the dogs, she scanned Jesse’s profile—features familiar yet changed—a man she no longer knew. A man, unfortunately, still capable of capturing her eye. The thought disturbed her. Patricia liked to think of herself as immune to tall, dark and rugged.

When he turned suddenly toward her, she focused her attention on the wiggling canine on her lap, hating that she’d been caught staring. “This one’s cute,” she said, scratching the dog’s ears. “He looks like one of those movie dogs. You know, the sweet, scruffy stray.”

His expression turned almost wistful. “You used to love those kinds of movies. They always made you cry.”

She nodded, hoping she appeared less affected than she felt. “I remember. The happy-ending tearjerkers. My goodness, how many of those did we watch?”

Too many, Jesse thought, his heart clenching. Cuddling in front of the TV with Tricia was an image that still haunted him. How many times over the years had he thought about her, missed her, ached for her?

Tricia had changed, grown even more beautiful than in his memories. She wore her silky brown hair a tad more stylishly these days, a professional chin-length streaked softly with golden lights. Her body had blossomed into a womanly blend of cleavage and curves, and those legs, those long trim gams looked as though they had the strength and agility to wrap themselves around a man for hours. And they had, he remembered, as his groin tightened. Those were the most painful images of all. The youthful passion, the sensuality of shyness, the tender, inexperienced lovemaking.

Fresh out of high school, Jesse had moved to Marlow County in search of his roots, but found Tricia instead. Nervous about college, he’d gone to the public library where he’d debated signing up for a free literacy program. When he’d walked away without joining, she had approached him—a sleek brunette in shorts and sandals claiming she had volunteered as a tutor. He’d lingered over her in one slow torturous gaze and fell instantly in love. And then three months later his world fell apart.

As Jesse gazed up at the porch roof, his mind drifted back to the day Tricia had betrayed him. She had come to his apartment that August afternoon, looking tired and pale.

“I shouldn’t have told my father about your scholarship,” she said, her voice shaky.

Jesse shook his head, dismissing her guilt. He’d just had a life-altering confrontation with her father—a man who despised him. “You didn’t know he’d be able to use it against me.” A cruel twist of fate had dealt that card, it wasn’t Tricia’s fault.

Her voice continued to quiver. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.” Pride had kept him silent, masking the rage. Jesse knew Raymond Boyd had been trying to destroy his relationship with Tricia since it started, but despite her father’s wishes, she had continued to date him. That thought gave him hope. After all, it was modern-day Oklahoma, and they were both adults—strong-willed eighteen-year-olds. A poor Indian boy loving a rich white girl was no longer a crime. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fight back.”