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Amber had Sunday off. She relaxed in her studio apartment above the beauty salon. It was tiny but cheap, and it worked for her. She had finally saved up enough money to buy a tablet, and she fired it up after she’d downed her first cup of coffee.
Her Google search? None other than sweet Daddy himself, Thunder Morgan.
He had his own web site, of course.
Her heart nearly stopped. There on the web page were her light brown eyes.
She’d always been a dead ringer for Karen Hedstrom, except for the eyes.
He was handsome—sandy gold hair graying at the temples. An older man now, but she flipped through his gallery and caught sight of him in his younger years. Wow. Buff and beefy, just the way Karen liked her men.
Why on earth would he have been interested in bedding a worn-out drunk like her mother?
And why, why, why hadn’t her mother gone after him for child support?
Harper was right. Something was up with this story. Amber scanned each page of the web site. Nowhere was the name Morgan Cross mentioned. She did a Google search cross referencing the two names. Nothing.
Either Thunder Morgan was not Morgan Cross, or he had left that name behind for some reason.
Two things niggled at her.
First, Harper would not lie. He was Catie’s brother, and he was a good man. He wasn’t a liar. If he knew Morgan Cross was the birth name of bronc buster Thunder Morgan, that was how it was.
Second. She couldn’t overlook it or deny it. The man stared at her from her computer screen with her own eyes.
“I’ll be damned,” she said aloud.
She had questions. Tons of questions. She should go to Karen. But she hadn’t spoken to the woman since she’d been kicked out of her house. What would she do? Go to San Antonio and show up on her doorstep?
Hi, I’m the daughter you threw out with the trash. Uh, how come you neglected to tell me my father was Thunder Morgan? And how come you neglected to tell him he had a kid?
She couldn’t do any of those things. She didn’t have two nickels to rub together. How would she get to San Antonio? On her looks? Hardly.
Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts.
She smiled. It was Harper. They’d exchanged numbers last night.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. “Feel like some coffee?”
“I’m on my second cup already.” She laughed.
“How about I come get you and we’ll head to Rena’s for some more. And maybe a croissant or two?”
“A croissant? You mean a cowboy like you doesn’t want a hearty bacon and egg breakfast?”
His chuckle warmed her ears. “Well, that does sound good.”
“Come on over to my place then. I’ll make you breakfast. And my coffee’s better than Rena’s.”
“Better than Rena’s? Them’s fightin’ words.”
“She brews a good pot, for sure. But mine’s better. Strong, thick, and black, like my men.”
“Huh?”
She giggled into the phone. “Just a joke, cowboy. From a movie I saw once.”
“I won’t turn that down. I’ll be over in half an hour or so.”
