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  His niece deserved an uncle she could depend on.

  But what if he let her down the way he had his father and Sam?

  He firmed his shoulders as Phoebe’s smiling face played in his mind. He’d have to be someone she could depend on.

  He couldn’t live with himself if he let her down, too.

  Chapter Three

  She had to set some ground rules with Dylan. Gabby spooned a bite of mashed carrots into Phoebe’s mouth the next day. Half of it dribbled out, and she scooped the orange mush back in. Phoebe clapped her hands, her little mouth working through the bite. Her bib had She’s the Boss embroidered on it, and the tray of the high chair was smeared with bits of bananas and carrots.

  “That’s right, peanut, you’re the boss, and your uncle better not think he can come and go as he pleases.” She scraped the side of the container and fed Phoebe another bite. “You’re worth more than that. I know how hard it is to resist a handsome man like Dylan when he breezes into town with a slippery smile and words full of sugar. And I know how much your heart breaks waiting for him to show up on your birthday or to the school play he promised to attend. Don’t worry. I will not let him string you along.”

  She was ridiculously glad she’d told Dylan not to come over until after noon. Saturdays were her one day to be lazy. She’d been relaxing in her pajamas and enjoying every second of cuddly bliss with the baby until she’d finally forced herself to shower and get dressed.

  Her clock said it was ten minutes after twelve. Would he stop by? Maybe he’d left town already. Yeah, right. Wishful thinking would get her nowhere.

  The problem was she’d enjoyed his company a little too much last night.

  He seemed less shady than she’d originally pegged him for. But that wasn’t saying much. It wasn’t as if he’d been in a hurry to cough up answers to the questions she’d presented. The moments when he’d been transparent about struggling with the deaths of Sam and his father had been endearing. But the other moments—the ones where he’d hemmed and hawed about his job and what he’d been doing—had not.

  Still, he’d been sweet with Phoebe. Gabby doubted he’d been around many babies, and he hadn’t hidden the fact he liked his niece. Then again, Phoebe was adorable—everyone liked her.

  The little pumpkin smacked her hands on the tray, her mouth open for another bite.

  “Well, excuse me.” Gabby gave her another spoonful. “You’re hungry today, aren’t you?”

  A knock on the door caught her attention, and her heart immediately started pounding. It was him. She was sure of it. Number one on her list—find out Dylan’s intentions. Number two—set some rules. She’d spell out her expectations for him if he wanted to spend time with Phoebe.

  She scrunched her nose at the girl. “I’ll be right back.”

  The high chair was a matter of steps from the door, and she quickly checked the peephole. Dylan. Her pulse went into overdrive. She unlocked the door and let him inside.

  “I would have called...” His outfit mimicked yesterday’s except he’d swapped out his black T-shirt for a gray one.

  “It’s fine. Come in.” She hustled back to Phoebe and gestured to a dining chair. “Have a seat. We’re just finishing up.”

  He settled into the chair opposite her and glanced around her apartment. Then he tapped his fingers on the table, appearing every bit as uncomfortable as she felt. They hadn’t been ill at ease last night. What had changed?

  “Did you sleep well?” Gabby finally asked. His name had been on the reservation list at the inn yesterday, but at the time she hadn’t realized he was Phoebe’s uncle. The reservation had been for one night only.

  “I did.” He nodded. “My room was quiet and comfortable. The staff was welcoming, too.”

  She could only assume he meant Stella when he referred to the staff. A flare of jealousy sprang up, but she squashed it.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” As soon as Phoebe finished the final bite of carrots, Gabby wet a washcloth and began to wipe her face and hands with it. After a bit of fussing, the child was clean. She lifted her out of the high chair and set her on her lap. The previous silence snowballed into awkwardness. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to do.

  Get it over with. Find out his intentions and set the rules.

  “So last night we didn’t really get around to discussing how to move forward in this new...ah...territory we’ve found ourselves in.” She watched him carefully.

  “No, we didn’t.” He shifted in his seat.

  “I want to make sure we’re on the same page. Phoebe’s needs come first.”

  “Yes, of course.” He sat up straighter.

  “I hope I don’t come off sounding like a taskmaster, but we need to set some ground rules. You mentioned wanting to be in her life. What specifically did you have in mind? Do you plan on visiting her often? Or would it be easier if you sent her gifts for her birthday and Christmas?”

  As he exhaled, his eyebrows drew together. “Umm...”

  “And, in the future, I’m really not okay with you showing up unannounced. I’d appreciate having at least a week’s notice if you’re coming into town.”

  “Uh-huh.” He bit the inside of his cheek, giving him an adorably lost look she hadn’t thought possible on such a strapping man.

  “It might be tempting for you to try to be the cool uncle, but please don’t overdo it. It can be difficult for a little girl without any father figure in her life. I don’t want her to get unrealistic expectations about you.” Her words came out faster as she brought up each new point.

  “I take it that means you’re not dating anyone.”

  “You are correct.” Was he fishing? It didn’t matter. “Since I’m on a budget, I think it would be inappropriate for you to buy expensive gifts for her, not that you were going to, but it’s worth mentioning.”

  He seemed to consider her words. “What do you have against expensive gifts?”

  Everything if there aren’t any feelings behind them. Her mind flashed back to the necklace Carl had given her before they’d split up. The old ache in her heart flared hot and painful.

  She held Phoebe tightly as the girl waved to Dylan and began babbling loudly. His grin was instant, and Gabby’s ache was replaced by something new and uncomfortable.

  “Children need love. It’s easy for them to confuse an expensive gift with emotional closeness.” She should know. It wasn’t only Carl who’d duped her. Her own father hadn’t cared that she and her sister lived in a run-down double-wide trailer and never had enough food. But he always brought a new doll or game after being on the road. New toys didn’t keep them warm during long winters. “I don’t want her to believe you’re something you’re not.”

  “Something I’m not? What do you mean?” His blank stare caught her off guard. Maybe she should have thought this through more before speaking. Sure, men had let her down time and again, but he didn’t need to know all that.

  She wasn’t going to tell him how hurt she’d been by her dad and Carl. She didn’t talk about them to anyone.

  “She doesn’t have a daddy, and if you show up once or twice a year with the latest toy and make a big deal over her, it will be pretty tough for her the rest of the time when you’re not around.”

  “I guess it makes sense.” He rubbed his chin. She detected nothing but sincerity from him. “You know better than I do.”

  “Ba-ba!” Phoebe pointed at him.

  He looked at Gabby. “What does ba-ba mean?”

  “She calls everything ba-ba at this point.”

  He made a silly face at Phoebe, who slapped her tiny palms on the table in excitement. Staring at his handsome features, Gabby was tempted to touch the slight cleft in his chin.

  Really, she should not be thinking about the cleft or about touching him!

  “How do you plan on raising her?�
�� He turned his attention to Gabby and watched her intently.

  What was he getting at? Was he concerned she was doing a bad job? Sure, she often worried she wasn’t enough for Phoebe. Shouldn’t the girl have a mommy and a daddy? And sometimes she felt guilty about working all day, but she loved her job, and Eden was a wonderful babysitter.

  “She’s in good hands.”

  “I know. I’m not worried about her physical care.” He leaned back. “But as she gets older, how do you plan on disciplining her? How important is her education to you? Are you going to sign her up for sports? Will you screen her friends?”

  Gabby was speechless. For Mr. Vague-About-Himself, he’d certainly gotten quite detailed about Phoebe’s life. Did he think Gabby wasn’t up to the task?

  Honestly, she hadn’t really considered everything he mentioned. She’d been so busy getting through each day trying to move on from Allison’s death, that she hadn’t given a ton of thought to Phoebe’s future. Maybe she should have.

  The creases in his forehead clued her in he might be worried based on his own experience. He’d mentioned his parents’ divorce. What had happened in his childhood to make him worry about Phoebe’s?

  “I’ll do my best.” She attempted to smile. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I take parenting day by day at this point.”

  The unsettling sensation in her stomach made her want to wrap up this visit as soon as possible.

  “Are you leaving this afternoon or waiting until tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Yeah, about that...” He turned to Phoebe and continued the goofy faces. “I think I’ll stay in Rendezvous for a while.”

  Her mind froze. She could hear her heartbeat. He was staying here longer? Was it because she didn’t have a ten-year plan for Phoebe?

  “A while? Could you be more specific?” Her voice was squeakier than a mouse’s. “How long?”

  “It’s hard to say.” He lifted one shoulder, and his mouth curved into a grin.

  “Why?”

  His warm brown eyes held something she hadn’t detected in them until now. Hope.

  “I’d like to get to know my niece better.”

  It was as if a ticking bomb began to count down in her brain. A bomb to disaster.

  This was how it started—the charming smile, the proclamation he was staying for a while, the wriggling into her life, the playing with her emotions.

  The inside of her mouth turned to sludge as she remembered the months she’d spent hanging on Carl’s every word, dropping everything when he called and hushing the voice in her head whispering he was playing her. Carl wasn’t the great guy he’d pretended to be. She’d been a fool.

  Not this time.

  “Look, it’s sweet of you to take an interest in Phoebe, but from what you’ve told me, I really don’t know enough about you to encourage you to stick around.”

  “What do you mean?” His expression darkened.

  “I have no idea what you do for work. You mentioned living in Texas. Do you still live there? And what exactly have you been doing for the past year? Don’t say this and that—it’s not a real answer.”

  His mouth dropped open, but she didn’t give him time to speak.

  “How do I know you aren’t a deadbeat?”

  * * *

  A deadbeat?

  This was a new one. Dylan almost laughed out loud, but the worry and sincerity in Gabby’s stormy gray eyes held him in check.

  Here he’d been worrying she’d asked about his finances yesterday in order to gain something, and in reality, she’d been worried he was a deadbeat. A sobering thought.

  “I’m not a deadbeat.”

  “That’s what they all say,” she muttered, diverting her attention to Phoebe.

  “They? Who?”

  “Cowboys.” She met his gaze again, and he was struck by the fierceness in them.

  She thought he was a cowboy? Maybe his boots and hat made him look like one. Outside of the office, jeans and cowboy boots had always been his style.

  The funny thing? As a kid, he’d always wanted to be a cowboy. His friend had grown up on a ranch, and Dylan remembered one summer—he must have been thirteen or fourteen—he’d gone over there often to watch the men working cattle. Cowboys were tough and cool and everything he’d wanted to be. His friend, along with the ranch hands, had kindly taught him how to ride and rope.

  Yeah, he would gladly be mistaken for a cowboy any day.

  But Gabby said it like it was a bad thing.

  “Cowboys aren’t deadbeats.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re strong and dedicated, and they never quit. They’d give their lives for the animals depending on them.”

  He, on the other hand, was not strong or dedicated, and he had quit more than one thing in his life. Gabby didn’t need to know all that, though.

  “Yeah, well, I wish they’d think about the people who depend on them, too.” Someone must have let her down. She reached over and grabbed a pale blue stuffed dog from the counter and handed it to Phoebe, who gripped it with both fists and pounded it against the tabletop while blowing raspberries. “You didn’t answer my question. How long are you planning to stay?”

  His mind blanked. How could he possibly answer her when he didn’t know? If he said a month, would it be long enough? Or too long? What if he liked it here and wanted to stay through the summer?

  “A month. At least.” His palms grew clammy as he realized he’d committed to being here for four whole weeks, the longest he’d stayed in one spot for over a year. Every ten days, without fail, he’d get restless, pack up and move on. Was he even capable of staying in one spot for a month anymore?

  “Well, where are you going to stay?” She sounded as incredulous as he felt.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “The inn isn’t set up for long-term guests. It would be expensive.”

  His lips twitched in amusement. She didn’t want him at the inn, that was for sure. In his experience, any hotel was set up for long-term guests for the right price. But she didn’t know his pockets were deep. And if he told her the truth, he wouldn’t be a cowboy in her eyes anymore.

  “I’ll find something.” He’d have no problem finding lodging for a month.

  “Okay, but what are you going to do while you’re here? You can’t be hanging around my place all the time. People will talk, and I won’t be gossiped about.”

  “I won’t give them anything to gossip about.” She brought up an interesting point, though. What was he going to do all day while he was here? He hadn’t thought this through. He’d gotten caught up in small-town wishes last night.

  The stuffed dog hit him in the face.

  He blinked, and Phoebe let out a deep laugh, and it grew and grew until the child was practically hysterical. He couldn’t help it; he laughed, too.

  “Oh, you think that’s pretty funny, Phoebe, hitting your uncle in the face.” He pointed to her, keeping a teasing quality to his tone so she wouldn’t be scared. He picked up the stuffed dog and pretended to make it dance.

  After a while her laughter finally settled down, and, grunting, she pointed to him.

  “Do you want the doggy?” he asked.

  She bounced on Gabby’s lap and clapped her hands. He held it out to her, and she snatched it from him and chewed on its ear.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you not to eat dogs?” He shook his head as she slobbered all over the poor animal’s ear. “I can see I’m needed here.”

  Gabby’s tender smile hit him in the gut.

  Maybe he’d better tell her the truth. He was neither a cowboy nor a deadbeat. He was just a lost guy living off his dad’s money.

  She let out a long sigh. “If you’re serious about staying, then I have some rules.”

  She seemed to be big on rules.

  “Supervised visits o
nly with the baby.” She lowered her chin and gave him a stern stare.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with an unsupervised visit anyway.”

  “Okay, good.” She raised her chin level again. “You can stop by for a little bit after supper on weekdays. Not every weekday, mind you, but once you get settled, we can work out a schedule for once or twice a week. Saturdays are my day to relax, so please don’t come over then.”

  So far, the schedule sounded limiting. An hour or two once or twice a week? Would it be enough?

  “What about Sundays?” he asked.

  “Phoebe and I go to church.” Her shoulders relaxed, and the sideways glance she shot him hinted she wasn’t as sure of herself as she was coming across. “You’re welcome to come with us.”

  “I’d like that.” And he would. He missed regularly attending a place of worship.

  “Good, and one more thing. You need to get a job.”

  A job? What kind of job? A tornado built in his chest as all the possibilities ricocheted off him. He hadn’t had a job in over a year, and he doubted Rendezvous had any need for upper management.

  “I’m not sure where to look.” Was he even qualified for anything Rendezvous offered?

  She averted her eyes. “Talk to Stu Miller. One of his ranch hands quit and moved away last year after getting married, and his right-hand man died a little over a month ago. He could use a cowboy for hire. Tell him I sent you.”

  Instantly, the storm inside him calmed. He didn’t have to sift through the possibilities. A position was there for the taking—he could literally be the cowboy she thought he was.

  But his conscience nagged him. From all visible signs, Gabby lived on a budget, and raising a baby couldn’t be cheap. He should set up the trust fund and the monthly child support payments. Relieve some of the financial burden of being a single mom.

  But if he did... She might flip from being skeptical to having stars in her eyes. Staying in town for a month with a woman who might try to leverage the baby for his money would leave him too vulnerable.