Page 11 of Snowed in with the Rancher

“Why am I just finding out about this now?” he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “How was I supposed to track you down,Tate from Montana? I still don't know your last name.”

He stared at her, incredulous. Then he realized he didn't know hers, either.

“Jesus,” he said, the agitation rising in him as he stumbled to his feet and began pacing around the kitchen.

She nodded. Taking a deep breath, her hands tightening on her mug of tea, she started talking, her voice soft and strained. “It all happened so fast. One minute, I was there with you, having the time of my life, making plans for what we'd do next. But then I went back to my cabin to change, and there were these porters waiting at my door. They told me that an urgent call had come into the captain's office and that he needed to see me right away. He was the one who broke the news that there had been a fatal accident. The driver of a semi-truck had passed out at the wheel and plowed right into my parents' car. They both died instantly.”

Tate inhaled sharply. “God, Olivia, I'm so sorry…” he murmured.

She managed a weak before returning her attention to her mug of tea as if it held all the secrets to the universe. “Honestly, everything was kind of a blur after that. I was back on shore before I even realized it. I know I should have talked to you, should have let you know, but I was just so overwhelmed.”

“Of course you were,” he replied, wanting to reach out to her but not quite knowing how—or if his touch would be welcomed. “Anyone would be. I'm sure that a guy you'd only known for a handful of days was the last thing on your mind.”

“Not the last,” she argued. “Not at all. I thought about you a lot, actually. We shared something special.” She flushed. “At least, it was special to me.”

“To me, too,” he admitted. She smiled at that, still looking down into her mug.

“It was a few weeks before I realized justhowspecial it had been. With everything that was going on, I didn't figure out what the symptoms meant at first, but once I did…” At this, she finally looked up. “I tried to find you—honestly, I did. But the cruise ship company wouldn't share any passenger information, and trying to find a specific rancher in all of Montana was like trying to find a specific kid in all of Disneyland. There were just too many results for me to be able to narrow it down.”

Meanwhile, Tate just sat there as his mind spun with the implications of it all. For years, he'd looked back on his time on the cruise with a feeling of bitterness that hardened more with each reiteration. She'd left him without a word. She clearly hadn't cared for him even a fraction as much as he'd cared for her. Even the sweetness of the memories had gone sour, with him thinking that the connection he'd thought he'd felt had been just an illusion all along. But now, his perspective on everything had shifted. Rather than the woman who used him and dumped him, he saw someone even more incredible than he'd known. She'd held three lives together entirely by herself, with no family, no husband, no help.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

He nodded, his blood thrumming with panic. What else could she possibly have to tell him?

She finally stepped around the counter and walked toward where he'd been pacing between the kitchen and the dining table.

“I think this is fate.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Me getting this job here. Jackie falling into that ravine. You getting the call to find us. I mean, how could it be anything other than the universe making sure you finally knew about the girls?”

How could this be fate? He had no idea how to be a father. It was an idea he'd barely even considered before. Romance had never worked out for him, so he'd resigned himself to the fact that he was simply meant to be on his own. And he'd beenfinewith that. Comfortable with it. This…was not comfortable. This wasterrifying.

“They haven't asked about their dad much—”

Tate's throat felt tight at the use of the worddad.

“But whenever they did, I told them he owned a ranch and was a real live cowboy, but he didn't know they'd been born, and I didn't have a way to find him. They don't know how babies are made, so there's no judgment from them on that.” She laughed softly. “But I think they'll be really happy when they see I told them the truth. You fit the profile I painted so perfectly, they're going to feel like they've known you a lot longer.”

Would they? Or would he turn out to be a disappointment to them? Would they get frustrated and upset by the same things about him that had eroded so many attempts at relationships in the past? The way he never knew what to say. The way he was totally hopeless at picking up on cues. The way he could never manage to be easy and natural with affection, even when he badly wanted to reach out. Grown women hadn't been able to get past his cluelessness—how much worse would it be for little girls who needed and deserved unconditional love and support? How could he be their dad when he was so sure that he'd just let them down?

It was all too much.

He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry,” he said, taking a step back. His heels hit the stairs and he took a backwards step up. “I can't…” He ran his hand roughly through his hair, resisting the urge to yank on it to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He knew she deserved better than this, but he couldn't help it. Panic was welling up inside him, and when it reached maximum capacity, it wasn't going to be pretty.

“I just need…” He swallowed hard, then gestured up toward his bedroom. Lobster rose from his bed in the corner of the living room and made his way to Tate's hip, showing that sixth sense dogs have when their humans are freaking the heck out.

She was still staring at him sadly when he fled up the stairs, shutting his door and locking it behind him as if the demons of hell might try to get in.

SIX

The smoke alarm in the kitchen was shrill and relentless, as it should be.

Tate groaned as he rolled over and tried to get his bearings. Lobster began to howl from his oversized pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed.

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