Arlene James - Her Single Dad Hero

A Homecoming Romance

Ten years ago Ann Billings left her Oklahoma ranch behind and headed to the big city. But when her ailing father needs her to temporarily run the spread, she’s back—successful, accomplished…and engaged. She’s got her whole life on track—but she never planned on Dean Pryor or his gap-toothed five-year-old son. Years ago the farmer would’ve done anything to be noticed by Ann, and it seems nothing’s changed. His feelings still run deep, and this time his boy’s fallen for her, too. Now Dean faces a most daunting task: showing Ann that their little trio may not be what she’d mapped out…but it’s exactly what she’s always needed.

“Do you think I’m feminine?”

What? When Ann looked in the mirror, didn’t she see what he saw?

She didn’t wait for his reply. “I can’t cook. I don’t know anything about kids. I can’t sew. I—”

Dean stopped her rant. “You, Ann Billings, are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

For an instant, everything froze.

Then he was lost to the wonder of her smile.

Then it faded. “Sorry. I was having a pity party and I dragged you into it.”

“You think I said that out of pity?” The woman was clueless! “You know, the only masculine thing about you is your stubborn inability to see what’s in front of you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m talking about me!” he snapped.

She looked stunned. “I didn’t... I never...”

The words just died away, and that was all he could handle.

“I have to go.” He stepped around her and kept on walking. Had he just revealed he’d carried a torch for her for years?

Oh, what had he done?

ARLENE JAMES has been publishing steadily for nearly four decades and is a charter member of RWA. She is married to an acclaimed artist, and together they have traveled extensively. After growing up in Oklahoma, Arlene lived thirty-four years in Texas and now abides in beautiful northwest Arkansas, near two of the world’s three loveliest, smartest, most talented granddaughters. She is heavily involved in her family, church and community.

Dear Reader,

Misunderstandings fuel many of life’s problems and decisions. A lack of solid information can have devastating effects on our beliefs, attitudes and actions. Yet, God can use even that to our benefit—and His—when we are surrendered to Him.

Saul misunderstood Who Christ is and the very nature of Christianity. As a result, Saul made some bad decisions and serious mistakes. After he met Jesus on the road to Damascus and learned the full truth, God changed him into Paul and used his past mistakes as a powerful witness, taking Christianity to the gentile world. What a blessing!

We make mistakes. We misunderstand at times and let that color our thoughts and actions. But take heart. Ann and Dean’s story illustrates that, when we belong to Him, God is always at work in our lives. He can turn misunderstandings and mistakes into blessings!

God bless you!

Her Single Dad Hero

Arlene James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.

—Romans 12:2

I know some truly intelligent, talented, loving, beautiful professional women, and quite a few of them live in Oklahoma, but only one is my niece. Hillary, your many accomplishments speak volumes, but your faith is especially eloquent. I’m so proud of you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Dear Reader

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The sprawling old house creaked and groaned in the afternoon heat. Its cedar siding expanded with reluctant moans, while the steep, gleaming metal roof snapped impatiently beneath the relentless July sun. Such was summer in south central Oklahoma.

Having grown up here on Straight Arrow Ranch, Ann Jollett Billings found the heat of mid-July no surprise. She was used to worse, frankly, and better, having spent the past six years in Dallas, Texas, being a manager in the finest hotel that city had to offer. Despite the opulence of her usual surroundings, however, what Ann now found difficult to bear was not the utilitarian inconveniences of her childhood home but the silence.

She couldn’t recall the last time that she’d had more than a few quiet hours to herself, let alone two whole days. Managing a hotel meant being on call virtually around the clock; managing a ranch, not so much, even apparently during the “busy season.” At least her brother had claimed this to be the busy season before he had taken off to Tulsa with his new wife and adorable baby girl to settle personal business and put his condo on the market, leaving Ann in charge of the family ranch during his absence. She’d taken the time to fully computerize their bookkeeping, which would allow Rex to track everything online. Their sister, Meredith, a nurse, had left the afternoon after Rex, on Sunday, to take their father, Wes, to Oklahoma City for his second chemotherapy treatment. The house had been as silent as a tomb ever since.

So who was pushing a chair across the kitchen floor? That noise, Ann suddenly realized, could not be anything else.

“Oh, Lord,” she prayed softly, “please don’t let this be happening. Not here. Not now.”

Rising from the battered old desk in her father’s study, Ann crept to the door that led into the foyer and listened. The screeching stopped, but other sounds ensued. She was definitely not alone in the house. Her imagination, fueled by her years in Dallas, conjured numerous scenarios, none of them innocent. Reason told her that theft was a rare thing around the small town of War Bonnet, Oklahoma, which lay five miles or so away. Rarer still in the outlying rural surrounds, but perhaps one of the employees of the custom cutter hired to install the new feed bins and harvest the oat and sorghum crops had assumed that, with Wes and Rex gone, the house would be empty and, therefore, easy pickings.

Well, she was no helpless female. Never had been; never would be. At five feet eight inches in height and a hundred thirty-five pounds, she had enough heft to do some damage, if necessary, though more than once she’d wished otherwise.

“All right. If this is how it has to be,” she whispered, “then give me strength, give me wisdom, give me courage, and send that thief running.”

Moving quietly in her expensive Gucci flats, black jeans and lace-trimmed, jade-green silk T-shirt, she eased open the door of the coat closet at the foot of the front stairs and reached inside for the baseball bat that had been stored there since her brother had left home for college twenty years earlier. She could have taken the shotgun or the rifle from the high shelf, but it had been too long since she’d used a gun. Besides, she knew how to swing a bat for maximum effect, having played four years of fast-pitch softball in high school and three in college.