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that
    those who worked with him would have been scared, for the
    expression on his face was deadly. In the room, he took some
    cash and handed it to the manager at the front desk and packed
    his sea bag. In less than an hour, Maverick was on I-25N
    heading for his hometown.
    _
    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 wideeyed
    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