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“No one better,” Nick said, and his gruff tone didn’t hide his emotions at all.
Ry was smiling as he went back to his sketchpad. He was so wrapped up in what he was doing he was caught a little off guard when Kaitlyn excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, leaving him alone with Nick. Nick, who didn’t waste any time.
“I owe you thanks for driving her all this way.”
He shrugged, a little awkwardly. “No problem.”
“Especially since you’re the celebrity she’s there to photograph.”
He couldn’t help it—a burst of laughter broke from him. “Celebrity? Hell, man, I’m just a rancher with a knack that people seem to like.”
That made Nick smile, and Ry thought there might have been approval in the expression. “She said you were modest.”
Ry blinked. “She did?” She’d talked to this man who was her surrogate father…about him?
“She also said you’re staying until tomorrow.”
“Until you get home safe,” Ry said. “She won’t be easy until then.”
“And you arranged it all?”
He shrugged. “She was…distracted. Worried about you.” He met the man’s gaze, held it. “You mean the world to her, you know.”
Nick studied him, his dark eyes alert and intent. Whatever relaxant they’d given him had clearly worn off. “Seems you’ve gotten to know her pretty well in a short time.”
Ry wasn’t at all sure what to say, and somehow another shrug to those words seemed wrong. Almost insulting, somehow. At the least a dodge. Which, if he was honest, is what it would be.
“She’s…special.”
“Yes, she is. And she’s had a rough go of life.”
“I know.”
“You know what happened? Her father?”
“The fire? Yes.” He shifted, a little uncomfortable at the intensity of the man’s voice. Whatever they’d given him had most definitely worn off.
“And her mother?”
“If you want to call her that,” Ry said sourly.
“And I don’t much like that woman she’s working with, either.”
“We’re in agreement on that,” Ry said with a grimace. “From what she said, I think Ms. Jacobs and Kaitlyn’s mother are cut from the same, self-centered cloth.”
Nick nodded. “No scruples at all.”
“I don’t think she’s a drunk though. She’s too sharp.”
Nick tilted his head slightly as he looked at him. “Kaitlyn told you all this?”
Puzzled, Ry said, “Yes. Why?”
“She never talks about it. Never. Rarely even to me, and I’m as close to a father as she’s got, now.”
“I know that, I—” Ry stopped abruptly.
A father. Kaitlyn’s father. Essentially that was who had been grilling him for the last two minutes. Suddenly he felt as if he were back in high school, asking Andrea Whitfield’s father if he could please take her to prom. Except this had been more of a third degree than that had been, because Mr. Whitfield had known his family. Nick didn’t know him, or his family. He only knew he loved Kaitlyn like a daughter. And he was the man who had handed Kaitlyn her salvation and her calling when he’d handed her a camera.
