Debra Kastner - Daddy's Home

“Where is he?” His low voice resonated in her ears.

Her eyes snapped open to meet his amused gaze. The twinkle had returned, and the dimple in his left cheek was showing. He was completely relaxed, and he was smirking at her!

Hurt and anger warring within her, she pushed both hands into his chest and shoved as hard as she could.

Christopher stepped back, but only because he wanted to. He didn’t want to admit that his feelings hadn’t changed, not in all these years, and not with all that had happened between them.

But now was not the time to pursue his feelings, though surely that time would arrive. He would make that time come, one way or another.

There were bridges to be built to gap the distance between them, and that would take some time. He’d known from the moment he decided to return to Westcliffe that it wouldn’t be easy. Not for him, and most definitely not for Jasmine.

She could be one stubborn woman, he thought, pressing his lips together. But then again, he was a stubborn man. He clamped his teeth down hard and stared her down.

“Get out of here, you snake.” Her voice was a low rasp.

Snake? He cringed inwardly at her animosity. He’d hoped her anger at the situation would have dulled enough with time for her to listen to reason, but it was obvious she was no closer to being ready to accept the truth than she’d been a year ago. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes on her. “Not until I’ve seen my son.”

“ Your son? Your son is doing very well without you, thank you very much. When did you decide to be a daddy, Christopher? Yesterday? It’s not like a hat that you can put on whenever you please. What right do you have to waltz in and demand to see him? He’s a twenty-four-hour-a-day responsibility, which I have been facing alone, I might add. He’s a flesh-and-blood human being, not some toy you can play with whenever the urge strikes you!”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tipping his hat backward and raking his fingers through his hair. Some things hadn’t changed.

Jasmine Enderlin was as pigheaded as she’d always been. If she hadn’t jumped to conclusions a year ago, he wouldn’t be standing here like a stranger on her front porch. God willing, they would’ve been married.

But God wasn’t willing. And Jasmine wasn’t budging.

“Give me a break, Jazz. I’ve been busting my tail to get back here.”

“Is that so?” she snapped. bracing her arms on her hips. “And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because you worked so hard to get back here?”

He leveled his gaze on her and stepped forward. “That’s so, ” he said, his tone hard. “And at the moment, I don’t give a wooden nickel how you feel about me. I want to see my son. Now.”

Jasmine’s breath came in short, uneasy gasps. Her head swirled with emotion. To have to see Christopher again, to face not only what he’d done to her heart, but to her family, was enough to daunt the strongest of women. But to have him waltz into town and demand to see his child with all the arrogance of the perfect father was positively the last straw.

Anger welled in her chest.

“What right do you have to demand anything? ” she growled through clenched teeth, willing her throbbing heart to slow before it beat a hole through her chest.

Christopher pulled the hat down low over his brows and leaned toward her, his posture firm and menacing. For a minute he just stared at her, the ice in his gaze freezing her insides. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “I’m his father, Jazz.”

His voice cracked on her name, and for the briefest moment, she saw a flicker of pain cross his gaze, so deep and intense she almost felt sorry for him.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached out a hand to stroke his strong jaw, then withdrew it just as quickly, curling her fingers into her chest as if she’d been burned.

She didn’t feel anything for Christopher Jordan, she reminded herself harshly. Not anymore. He didn’t deserve her pity, or her compassion. Scriptural verses flooded her mind, words about mercy and forgiveness, but she refused to concede. Not for him.

It didn’t take a genius to read the change in her demeanor, and his eyes quickly shaded, resuming the tint of frosty steel.

“I have rights,” he reminded her, his voice as cold as his gaze.

Jasmine steeled her heart, preparing to do mental battle with the man who’d once been the love of her life. She’d fight him tooth and nail for Sammy, and in the end, that was all that mattered. Not the past. The good or the bad. She wouldn’t let her heart betray her a second time.

“You lost any rights you had the night you left Jenny alone and pregnant,” she snarled.

His lips thinned. He opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly shut it again.

“You aren’t Sammy’s father,” she added abruptly, sensing her advantage.

The barb met its mark, if his sharp intake of breath was any indication. She rushed on before she lost her nerve.

“You can threaten me with a lawsuit if you want, but I’m not backing down. Jenny made me Sammy’s guardian. I’ve got papers to prove it—papers that will stand up in any court of law.”

Jasmine wasn’t as certain of her claim as she sounded, but she wasn’t about to let on. She made a mental note to speak with the family attorney, feeling pleased that she’d struck Christopher dumb, at least for a moment.

He swept off his hat, his gaze genuinely hurt and confused. “Who said anything about a lawsuit?” he demanded, blowing out a breath. “Shoot, Jazz, don’t you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t do that to you? Or to Sammy,” he added, under his breath.

Hat in hand, he reached out his arms to her, beseeching her with his gaze as well as his posture. “Just let me see him. I won’t stay long. I just want to see that he’s safe and—” His voice choked, cutting his sentence short. “Please, Jasmine. Just for a minute.”

She felt herself relenting even as her answer left her lips. “Forget it. Not now, and not ever. Go back from whatever rock you crawled out from under, Christopher. There’s nothing here for you now.”

Her heart felt like it had been through a paper shredder, and she whirled away from him before she gave in to the earnest pleading in his tone. She had to get away from him until she could think things through, knowing she couldn’t put two straight thoughts together when he looked at her that way.

How could she not remember the man Christopher once was, the strong, gentle man she loved? But that man was gone, her dreams shattered by the same disheartening reality that was responsible for creating the sweet little boy in the bedroom.

Which only served to prove that good really could come from something bad.

No matter what, she had to protect Sammy. She opened the screen door and slipped inside, glancing behind her shoulder in time to see Christopher punch his hat on his head and move to follow her.

Her heart pounded as she reached for the door and slammed it behind her, barely locking Christopher out before he began pounding.

“And good riddance,” she whispered, leaning her forehead on the door.

Jasmine was terrified Sammy would wake up and start wailing. If that happened, and Christopher heard his baby, he’d never leave. She slid down against the wall, cupping her hands over her ears. Why wouldn’t he just go away and leave them alone?

After ten minutes, when she’d finally concluded he’d never quit pounding, she heard him stomp back to his truck and slam the door. She felt both relieved and yet strangely desolate now that she was once again alone.