Chapter Seven

Dakota burst through the door to his mother’s house. He was furious and he wanted some answers. “Mom!” he hollered the second his hand slammed the door behind him.

“Don’t yell inside, Dak,” Tempest reprimanded as she looked at him from her spot in the kitchen.

“Who is that man?” he demanded, not lowering his voice. “That one you were talking to outside.” At her wide-eyed expression he added, “Yes, I overheard it all.”

Defeated, Tempest sank to a chair at the round kitchen table. With one flick of her wrist she drank her two fingers of Irish whiskey in one gulp. Closing her eyes for a moment, she waved her son to the table.

Unsure of how he should feel, Dakota did as she’d silently bid him to do, grabbing along his way two glasses and the pitcher of lemonade. He poured them both a glass and removed the Old Fashioned glass from in front of her. “Drink this,” he commanded.

Her jaw clenching, Tempest did as she was told. She took a sip of the lemonade and met her son’s dark gaze. A gaze that was so like his father’s. “That man is your father.”

“I thought you said he didn’t want us,” Dakota fumed. His strong fists clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t know what he is doing here. I don’t want to know.” Tempest looked longingly at her whiskey that was on the countertop but drank her lemonade instead. How that man made her long for a drink.

“I hate him. I hate him for what he did to you,” Dakota swore as his hand smacked the dark wood of the table.

“Sweetie, I wish there was something I could say to make it better. I wish I had told you all of this sooner, but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“So, Bertha wasn’t your mom?”

Tempest shook her head as she ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “No, she was my aunt. But after I got pregnant, my parents disowned me and she was the only one who was willing to accept me. The day I went to tell your father about you, his parents…well, let’s just say they treated me about the same as my own did. Up until the day you were born, I’d held out hope that he would send me a letter or just show up at the door.”

“But he never did,” Dakota finished.

“No, he didn’t. I haven’t seen him since about two weeks after we slept together.” She raised her eyes to meet her son’s, expecting to see disgust, anger, or even hatred. Instead, all she saw was compassion and sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” Standing up, Dakota moved around the table to put his arms around his mother. “I’m sorry that I was the cause of so much pain.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Sweetie, don’t ever apologize. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn’t change a single day of my life since you came into it.” Turning her head so she could look into her son’s obsidian gaze she sent him a smile. “None of this is your fault and I don’t ever want you think it was.”

Tempest leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Now, come tell me how things were at the bar tonight.”

With one last hug, Dakota took a seat across from her. “This discussion isn’t over, Mom.”

She arched a brow at him and drank the rest of her lemonade. “Who is the parent here?” she quipped.

Dakota just arched a black brow and stared at her. They held each other’s gazes until finally he broke away. “I have never been able to stare you down,” he complained as a grin crossed his face.

“And you never will; that is the power of being the mother—I win.” She laughed as a total look of disgust filled his face.

Grumbling about the unfairness of it all, Dakota got up and poured them both more lemonade and set out a plate of cookies to go with their drinks. “What if he is here about me?”

Tempest reached back and undid the ponytail holding up her thick hair. “Dakota, you are twenty-one, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I will not try to sway you in any decisions.”

“I hit him,” Dakota blurted out.

“What?” she screeched. “Why?”

“Because you hit him and he’d abandoned us. When I heard you tell him, I was furious. So after you left I punched him. I hit him a few times actually. Cole and Trey were there to break it up.”

“Ah, hell! Are you going to be charged?”

Dakota shook his head, his shoulder-length dark hair flowing easily around his neck. “Nope, he said he wasn’t pressing charges.”

“Well, you are very lucky. Look, Dakota, I have no idea why he is here or what he wants. So please just try to be polite if he comes back into the bar.”

“Anything for you, Mom.” He ate another cookie and smiled. “I have a date this weekend, so I won’t be in the bar.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” She took a drink, fighting the urge to pry. Dakota wasn’t ever on the schedule at work since she wanted his schooling to be first and foremost.

“Don’t you want to know who she is?”

“I figured you would tell me if you wanted me to know.”

“You are the best mother in the world.” He stood and put his glass in the sink. At the doorway he turned back around and grinned. “It’s Shelia.”

As her child slipped down the hall, Tempest shook her head. She knew Shelia and liked the girl, a very intelligent black woman who was also majoring in African-American Studies. She’d been extremely polite the few times Tempest had met her.

Tempest sat in the kitchen for a while longer. When the urge to scream and cry had left her, she got up and headed to her room.

As she stood in front of her mirror, her dark eyes were confused as she asked, “What are you up too, James?”

Shaking her head, she did her nightly meditation and climbed into bed. Sliding between the cool cotton sheets she allowed the gentle scent of her fabric softener to surround her, helping her to relax even more.

There was no sign of James “Maverick” Chayton Lonetree in her bar for the rest of the week. More disgust filled her as she imagined he’d discovered he had a child and ran again.

Tempest struggled to not let it affect her, but having seen him after all this time did funny things to her. Her body seemed to be at odds with her heart. She might be furious with his behavior in the past, but she wasn’t dead; and she’d reacted to his masculine good looks.

Pouring all her energy into work, Tempest was determined not to let his memory swarm her every thought. She worked until she dropped and on her time off, she made sure to stay busy.

Her house had to be one of the only places in the desert that didn’t have any dirt. She scrubbed and cleaned until she was exhausted. But, still, every time she closed her eyes or had a free second, Maverick’s handsome face had stared at her with that bewildered expression as if the impossible had happened. As if he hadn’t known about their child.