A Son For The Cowboy. Sasha Summers

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СКАЧАТЬ hard look Toben leveled the man’s way made alarm bells go off. “One,” he answered, running a tentative hand over Rowdy’s riotous curls.

      The look of awe on Toben’s face shook Poppy to the bone. The man Poppy had known wasn’t capable of real emotion. He was a player. Life had been a series of games, challenges and conquests. He’d never been careful with his words...or his choice of women. He’d have punched Mitchell by now, or insulted him.

      Seeing him standing here looking at Rowdy like he was his whole world wasn’t something Poppy was prepared to handle. “Go on,” she encouraged. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

      “Can he stay for dinner, Ma?” Rowdy asked. “Mitchell’s grilling since the stove keeps catching fire.”

      “Not sure I got enough ribs, Rowdy.” Mitchell’s answer was quick.

      Toben’s jaw locked, but his attention stayed on Rowdy. “Better not. I like ribs. Might not be enough for you. Or Dot and Otis. Where are Dot and Otis?”

      “Video game,” she and Rowdy answered in unison.

      Toben shook his head, staring out over the three hundred acres she’d just purchased for her family with an appreciative eye. Poppy nodded. She didn’t get it either. When she’d been their age, she was climbing trees, skipping rocks and riding any animal she could climb onto.

      “Let’s go,” Rowdy said, grabbing Toben’s hand and pulling him toward the far pasture. Cheeto was there, waiting for Rowdy, his head resting on the fence line and his ears cocked forward.

      Toben kept holding Rowdy’s hand. And her son noticed. His happiness was all she wanted. Maybe...maybe Toben could be a part of that.

      “He hasn’t changed much.” Mitchell’s words snapped her out of it.

      “What was that?” she asked. “I don’t need you getting territorial, Mitchell. I need you to be my friend. I can’t be worried about you and Toben throwing punches to establish the pecking order around here. I’m the one in charge, got it?”

      Mitchell smiled down at her. He was tall, well over six feet. “I hear you, Pops. Don’t get all riled up. I’ll behave.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

      “I’ll try. I get that he has a right to know his son. You just promise me you won’t let him worm his way back into your heart, and I’ll leave it alone.”

      Poppy stared at Mitchell, horrified. “He was never in my heart—”

      “Pops,” Mitchell interrupted. “Come on, now. I was there, remember?”

      She glared, then stomped past him and into the house. His heavy footsteps told her he was following. “I don’t know where you come up with this stuff. I wasn’t heartbroken over him. I was heartsick for my baby. There’s a huge difference.” She’d been lying so long there was no way she was going to change her story now.

      “Pops.” His tone was soothing.

      “Don’t Pops me. Get the grill started while I get this corn cooking. Hopefully, I won’t burn down the damn house.” She turned her back on him, refusing to let the concern in his gray eyes soften her anger.

      “Fine, fine.” Mitchell chuckled. “Wish I could skip the preseason exhibition tour. I don’t like leaving y’all alone right now.”

      She spun on her heel then, outraged. “Mitchell Lee, we do just fine on our own, thank you. I love it when you visit. Rowdy loves it, too. But don’t think, for one minute, that I can’t manage my life without you.”

      Mitchell’s smile grew. “Or any man.”

      “Or any man. I have no interest in raising two boys on my own,” she added, snapping.

      “That’s all I needed to hear.” Mitchell’s smile was entirely too smug.

      “See, I told you.” Dot was leaning against the doorway, watching them. “They do act like it.”

      “Huh, guess so,” Otis added.

      “Act like what?” Mitchell asked.

      “You’re married,” Dot answered. “You argue just like our parents. And you’re always around.”

      “You gonna marry her?” Otis asked.

      Mitchell smiled at Poppy, teasing her and loving every minute of it. “I’ve tried, but she won’t have me.”

      Poppy burst out laughing then. He didn’t want to marry a woman he thought of as his sister. “Okay, you two, since you’re here, how about some help setting the table?”

      The both groaned, and complained, and argued, but they did it.

      “Where’s Rowdy?” Dot asked.

      “Yeah, why isn’t he helping out?” Otis joined in, placing each fork on the table with a heavy thump.

      “He’s out with Cheeto. Horses need a lot of work.” Poppy continued chopping salad, keeping a close watch on the ears of corn boiling on the stove. So far, the smoke was minimal.

      “Mom won’t let us have a pet,” Otis said.

      “Because you killed the fish,” Dot explained.

      “What happened?” Poppy turned, grabbing the chance to engage with her niece and nephew.

      “We each picked out a betta fish. Mine was all pretty and pink and red,” Dot said, folding napkins. “His was boy colored.”

      “I didn’t know they wouldn’t get along,” Otis protested. “Who knew fish could do that?”

      “That’s why they come in separate cups, Otis. They need their own personal space.” Dot shook her head. “His fish killed my fish and then he was so freaked out he gave his away.”

      “Oh.” Poppy frowned. “Poor little fish.”

      “And that’s why we can’t have a pet.” Dot shook her head. “It’s your fault, so stop whining about it.”

      And just like that, Otis snapped. “Shut up, Dot! I’m sick of you being so bossy.”

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