Kael took a deep breath and swept his gaze south toward
the charred alfalfa field. “I’m not backing down on this,
Daisy. I’ve got to know if Travis is my son, and I can’t
wait until he’s eighteen. I’ve already missed out on seven
years of his life as it is. Do you have any idea how that
makes me feel?”
At this point she really didn’t care how Kael Carmody
felt. Had he considered her feelings when he’d left town?
Had he even thought of her once in the past seven years?
She doubted it. He had a one-track mind—bull riding.
She’d always been a pale second. His refusal to stay here
and build a life with her told that story.
“Why don’t you stop and think about Travis for one
minute. What do you think is going to go through that little
boy’s mind when you tell him that you might be his daddy?
He’s bound to wonder where you’ve been all this time and
why you abandoned him. Have you given that matter any
consideration?’ ’
Kael ran a palm down his face. “Daisy, you’ve hit me
with this out of the blue. I haven’t had time to absorb any
of it. I’m operating on gut instinct. I say let’s have the
blood test done and don’t tell Travis what it’s for until we
know for sure I’m his father.”
“I’m not lying to him.”
“I didn’t ask you to lie.” Kael gave an exasperated sigh.
“Just tell him the doctor needs to run some test.”
“He’s a smart kid, he’s going to want to know why.”
“Stall him, Daisy. You’re good at it. Lord knows you
stalled me long enough.”
Her face heated at his words. “I suppose that’s why you
slept with Rose, your hormones got the better of you.”
He glared at her. “I’m not going to dignify that with a
reply.” He shucked off the coveralls, stepped out of them
and laid them across the fence. “I’ll be here at seven
o’clock on Monday morning. You better hold Travis out of
school and have him ready to go or I promise you, there’ll
be hell to pay.”
A ROTTEN SENSATION lay in Kael’s belly like a lead casket.
All Saturday and Sunday he’d vacillated between anger,
resentment, sadness and melancholy. He would think about
how Daisy had deceived him and he’d grind his teeth, then
he would remind himself she’d only been trying to protect
herself and her son. Much as he hated to admit it, he prob-
ably wouldn’t have been a good father at twenty-one.
But dammit, she’d deprived him of the opportunity to
try. And now? What kind of father would he be?
Despite himself, he already felt a rush of unexpected love
for the red-haired boy who looked so much like Daisy.
Hold up, Carmody, he’d had to remind himself on more
than one occasion. Don’t get too soft on the tyke until you
know for sure. But that sensible note of caution couldn’t
stop his heart from doing flip-flops when he sneaked over
to the property line dividing the Carmody ranch from High-
tower Honey Farm and watched the boy play in his back-
yard.
“My son.”
Kael tried the words out loud. They felt alien but nice.
Hunkering in the grass, observing Travis while he hung
upside down from the branch of an old oak tree, Kael ex-
perienced a sense of overwhelming guilt.
Had he abandoned Rose in her time of need? Was that
what had driven her to suicide?
Guilt tightened like a corkscrew. Kael winced. He had
never meant to hurt anyone. Not Rose. Not Daisy and cer-
tainly not this innocent little boy. But if Travis was indeed
his son, those ugly sins were his to claim.
Damn. He’d made so many mistakes. How could he pos-
sibly atone for them all?
Kael watched while Travis whistled tunelessly. The poor
kid seemed so lonely. He was quiet. Solemn and solitary.
He should be interacting with other children, playing base-
ball, hide-and-go-seek or cowboys and Indians. Kael ached
to reach out to him, to show him the things boys learned
from men.
The child desperately needed a male role model; could
Kael provide that kind of guidance he required? Daisy was
doing her best, but nothing could replace a man’s influence,
could chew. No matter how hard she tried, she just didn’t
have enough time to spend with the boy.
Whereas Kael had all the time in the world.
Was he making the right decision, demanding a blood
test? What if he was Travis’s father? What would the boy
think of him then? How could he explain his absence with-
out putting down both Rose and Daisy?
Kael blew out his breath. What a mess! A lonely boy
without a father. A hard-working woman trying to make
ends meet. A wealthy man, aimless and unhappy, without
any goals left in life. Sad, really, that they were so isolated
from each other when they should be together.
The thought caught in Kael’s mind and hammered at
him. They could be a group, a unit, a family.
Yeah. Sure. As if Daisy would ever forgive him enough
to consider the notion. That stubborn woman courted iso-
lation, embraced her loneliness like a holy cross to bear.
His fault, the guilt accused. All his fault.
No dammit, Kael railed. Although he certainly wasn’t
blameless, Daisy had brought a lot of this upon herself. If
she’d been honest with him, instead of secretive, he could
have been here to help her through the hard times. He won-
dered what it was about the woman that made her shun
assistance in favor of self-reliance, even when that self-
reliance was detrimental to herself and her adopted son.
Was it the loss of her parents at such a young age? Was
it the responsibility of running the honey farm? She’d had
no real childhood, thrown by death into the adult world far
too soon. Even before her parents had been killed, Daisy
and Rose had been enlisted as helpers on the farm. Daisy
had known nothing but hard work for her entire life. The
woman had no idea how to have fun.
It was a wonder, Kael marveled, that he and Daisy had
ever gotten together at all. They were such opposites. She,
stable, solid, dependable. He, flexible, rootless, wayward.
She, quiet. He, wild. Daisy was so self-contained, content
without social contact, while he had always hungered for
the limelight and thrived on adulation.
Of course, she’d been the one person who hadn’t fallen
at his feet, and he’d respected her for that. In fact, Kael
remembered with a wry smile, he’d had a devil of a time
convincing her to even go out with him.
He’d lived next door to Daisy Hightower all his life, but
he’d never thought of her as a woman until the summer
she turned sixteen just a few short months before her par-
ents’ fatal automobile accident.
Kael licked his lips at the memory. He’d been out check
-
ing on the cattle for his father when he spotted Daisy work-
ing in the apiary, her long red hair, unencumbered by a bee
veil, glistening in the early morning sunlight. She’d looked
like a fairy sprite, lithe, lissome and completely delicious.
Her lean graceful body had been encased in white coveralls
that could not camouflage her spectacular figure.
The sight of her had taken his breath. His physical re-
sponse had been swift and immediate. He’d known it was
Daisy right off the bat. Rose had little interest in the bees.
She spent her spare time riding horses and chasing boys.
No, from the very start it had always been Daisy.
She’d been humming under her breath, a soft, lilting mel-
ody, and Kael recalled thinking she was the most incredible
creature he’d ever seen.
Forever cocky and sure of himself, he’d sauntered over
to the fence row and called out to her.
“Hey, good looking.”
She’d sent him a look that would have withered grapes
into raisins, and kept going about her business.
“Perhaps I should have said, Miss Stuck-Up,” he
goaded, anxious for her reaction.
Daisy ignored him.
He’d flung a leg across the fence and climbed over onto
the Hightower property.
“You’re trespassing, Mr. Carmody,” she had said with-
out even looking up from her work. Bees buzzed around
her like she was their queen. Kael didn’t blame them for
their devotion. She was the most regal thing he’d ever seen.
Aloof, detached, poised and serene.
“What are you going to do about it, Miss Hightower,”
he’d asked, coming toward her.
She’d raised her head, and her eyes met his.
Even now, years later, the recollection of that exchange
raised something deep within him—an odd sensation of
panic and euphoria as if he’d met his match and she was
far too good for him.
“You really aren’t interested in tangling with my bees,
are you, Mr. Carmody?’ ’
“You’re kidding, right?” He’d allowed a killer grin to
spread across his face.
She never cracked a smile. “Am I?”
“You wouldn’t have your attack bees sting the greatest
bull rider ever bom, now would you?”
“I might. If there was such a person in the vicinity.”
‘7’ra the greatest bull rider ever bom.” He’d thrust out
his chest in a preening gesture. She’d been completely un-
impressed.
“Ever heard of humility?”
“Ever heard of tooting your own horn?”
Daisy had rolled her eyes and turned her back to him.
Quickly he’d circled around to gamer her attention again.
“Hey, can you really make the bees sting someone?”
“Try me.”
He hadn’t been brave enough to take the dare, but from
that moment on, he hadn’t been able to erase Daisy High-
tower from his mind.
He’d pestered her constantly, calling her two or three
times a week for a date.
She’d fed him a passel of excuses. Most of them legiti-
mate: she was too busy helping out on the honey farm in
her spare time; she was an honor student and had to main-
tain a high grade-point average in order to get into her
college of choice; her parents were old-fashioned and
wouldn’t allow her to date until she was seventeen.
But Kael kept after her until she told him the truth—that
she just wasn’t interested in someone stupid enough to risk
his neck by climbing onto the back of a bull.
For the first time ever, Kael Carmody had been rebuffed
and he refused to take rejection lying down.
Daisy had been cool, distant, never offering him any en-
couragement. Whenever she’d come to the rodeo arena to
watch Rose race barrels, Kael made a point to flirt with her.
In defense, Daisy would pick up a book and pretend to
read.
“Are you shy?” Kael asked one day. “Or just rude.”
“Rude,” she answered.
“All the other girls think I’m one hell of a guy, why
don’t you?”
‘ ‘Do the words arrogant jerk mean anything to you?’ ’
“Ah, come on, Daisy, give me a chance. I’m not so
bad.”
“So you say.”
“One date with me, and you’ll change your opinion,”
he wheedled.
“Don’t hold your breath, Kael Carmody.”
He gave her his best “sad puppy dog” expression.
“Please.”
“Why don’t you quit bothering me and go out with
Rose. For some crazy reason she thinks you’re charming.”
“I don’t want to go out with Rose. I want to go out with
you.”
She’d given him a dubious look. “Everyone wants to go
out with Rose.”
“Not me.”
“Why not? We look exactly alike. Pretend she’s me.”
“I don’t want to date you for your beauty.”
Both Daisy’s eyebrows had shot up on her forehead.
“Oh that’s believable.”
“I can’t help it. You intrigue me.”
“Only because I won’t go out with you.”
Kael shrugged. “Gotta confess, I adore a challenge.”
“All right.” Daisy sighed. “If I agree to have a cold
drink with you, will you promise to leave me alone after
that?”
He’d been so happy, he’d tossed his hat in the air and
shouted, “Yippee.”
His happiness, however, had been short-lived.
Before he and Daisy had had a chance to sip that cold
drink together in the worn vinyl booth at Hilley’s Drug-
store, Daisy’s parents had been killed in an automobile ac-
cident.
For the first few weeks he’d stayed out of her way, giv-
ing the sogginess of immediate grief time to abate. Then
he’d shown up on her doorstep, offering his assistance with
the honey farm.
Daisy, as he had expected she would, refused his over-
ture. But Rose and Aunt Peavy had embraced his help,
giving him chores to do and rewarding him with home-
cooked meals. Eventually Daisy had come to rely on him,
too, even though she never admitted it.
Kael shook away the memory and smiled wistfully from
where he crouched beside the fence row. He gazed across
the pasture, studying the child that might be his son as the
boy climbed higher into the branches of the ancient oak
tree.
A few minutes later, Daisy came out on the patio and
called Travis in for supper. Kael’s stomach scaled his throat
at the sight of her.
Lord, but she was beautiful—her red hair caught in her
signature ponytail and her lean body wrapped in tight blue
jeans and a faded Western shirt. She wore no makeup or
jewelry, but Daisy didn’t need such accoutrements. Her
loveliness was the natural kind that outshone any profes-
sional runway model or sleek, sophisticated actress. Daisy
Hightower was a real woman. Stubborn temperament and
all. She didn’t mind getting her ha
nds dirty or breaking a
fingernail or sweating. She worked. Hard. Had her whole
life. Strange, really, how she and her identical twin sister,
Rose, had come from the same background but turned out
so differently.
He swallowed hard. Daisy placed her hands on her hips
and looked briefly toward the ranch before turning her at-
tention to the apiary. He caught a glimpse of her face. Her
eyes were worried, her mouth pressed into a firm line. How
he longed to put a smile on those lovely lips, but it seemed
as if he just kept adding to her suffering.
What he wouldn’t give to hear her laugh again! The
woman roused in him such an intense fighting spirit. A
spirit Kael had only previously experienced on the back of
a bucking bull.
Actually, Miss Daisy Hightower was much more dan-
gerous than any rip-snorting Brahma. The bull might have
lacerated his leg, but Daisy had mangled his heart.
Kael still felt the pain. A deep lingering ache he feared
might never heal. Such a crying shame. They had once had
so much potential. Could they ever hope to bridge the
chasm separating them?
Daisy sank her hands on her hips and called to Travis
again.
Observing her, Kael tried his best to ignore the burning
in his gut. No. There could be no repair of the damage
done. Seven years and his unintentional betrayal stretched
between them. What was past was past. The most he could
hope for was to become a good father to his child.
Daisy and Travis disappeared into the house. Kael sighed
and rose to his feet. The odor of charred grass clung to the
air. He dusted his hands on the seat of his pants.
Perhaps Daisy was right. Maybe he should simply leave
well enough alone and not proceed with the blood test. Yet
part of him balked at the idea. He’d made a lot of mistakes,
and he didn’t want to compound them. Whether Daisy
Hightower liked it or not, he had to know if Travis was his
son.
Daisy put off telling Travis about the blood test for as
long as she dared. Sunday evening, after supper was over
and the dishes had been washed, she called him into the
kitchen.
Aunt Peavy was snoring gently on the couch, the tele-
vision set tuned in to a rerun of “Murder She Wrote.” A
stack of unpaid bills sat on the sideboard awaiting Daisy’s