The Texan's Surprise Son. Cathy McDavid

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       Chapter Four

      There was something surreal about sitting at the table with Jacob, lingering over breakfast while Cody played on the floor with Buster. They weren’t a family, not in the traditional sense. Yet to anyone looking through the window, they could have passed for one.

      “I’m glad all Cody’s fussing didn’t wake you,” Mariana said, striving to keep her voice light and conversational.

      Jacob unnerved her. His casual attire—T-shirt, jeans and bare feet—combined with his slightly tousled hair advertised just how recently he’d crawled out of bed—a bed located in the room across the hall from the one she and Cody occupied.

      “He did wake me,” Jacob said over the rim of his coffee mug.

      “Oh. You didn’t come out.”

      “I figured you’d have a harder time getting him back to sleep if Buster and I were there distracting him.”

      “You’re probably right.”

      Mariana tugged self-consciously on the wrist of her long-sleeved jersey shirt. At home, she’d have stayed in her pajamas and robe until noon if the mood struck her. Here, she’d dressed in what amounted to workout clothes. Well, in her defense, she might push Cody around the block a few times in his stroller. It was good exercise.

      “More toast?” Jacob held up a platter.

      Mariana started to say no, then changed her mind. “Hate to see it go to waste.” She snatched up the last piece.

      Cinnamon toast. Prepared to perfection. She and Cody had both gobbled up an obscene amount, downing it with fresh-squeezed orange juice. Thank goodness her stay was temporary. Another month of meals like this one and the lasagna they had for dinner last night, and she wouldn’t fit into her clothes.

      “Have you always liked to cook?” she asked, resisting closing her eyes in ecstasy as she took another bite of toast.

      “My mother taught me. She was quite accomplished in the kitchen. More home cooking than gourmet.”

      “I didn’t realize.”

      “You’re not alone. Most people took her for a socialite. Which she was. Being married to Brock calls for that. But she was a great mom, too.”

      “It was sad how she died. So unexpected.”

      “I’m not sure anyone ever gets over losing a loved one. You know that better than anyone.”

      “Yes, but we had time to prepare.” Mariana absently twirled a spoon in her coffee. “A few months.”

      “Is it really better having time or not?” He looked away as if remembering. “I sometimes wonder what I’d have done differently if Mom had months to live rather than hours.”

      Such a serious conversation. Not at all what Mariana had intended when she inquired about his cooking abilities. But then, Jacob was apparently a lot deeper than she’d given him credit. Besides being intelligent and talented, he cooked, kept a semi-immaculate house, had a knack with animals and contemplated the meaning of life.

      Hmm. Take away the rodeoing, and he’d be exactly the kind of man she’d always pictured herself with. Except, he did rodeo.

      Which come to think of it, wasn’t so terrible. His pastime provided a built-in safeguard to prevent her from losing her heart. With that stray lock of dark hair falling attractively over his brow, she was going to need every safeguard available.

      “Varoom, varoom.”

      On the floor beside them, Cody made noises mimicking a roaring engine as he drove his toy truck up Buster’s neck and between his ears. Mariana saved a piece of toast crust to slip to the dog later. He’d earned a reward for his boundless patience.

      Her cell phone rang, calling to her from the guest bedroom down the hall.

      “Excuse me.” She started to rise, her glance darting nervously to Cody. “Can you watch him for a second?”

      “Sure.”

      “If not, I’ll—”

      “I think I can manage to keep him out of trouble for thirty seconds.” He quirked one brow in amusement.

      Good grief, he was handsome.