A Son for the Cowboy (The Boones of Texas 5)

“You’re looking a little bleary-eyed, Toben.” She patted him on the arm. “No worries—I brought food to help start things on the right foot. My brothers around?”

He nodded, sipping his coffee as he peered into the box of breakfast treats. “Hunter’s in the office. Fisher’s at the vet hospital today.” The sound of crunching gravel and the roar of a diesel engine drew his eye to the front window. “Looks like Archer’s truck just pulled up.” He bit back a curse and swallowed his coffee. It was too early for Archer. He and his cousin, a know-it-all sonofabitch, didn’t always see eye to eye. Yes, Archer was better now that he had Eden and the girls. But when it came to work, he was still the same old insufferable ass he’d always been.

“Pull an all-nighter?” she asked, smiling.

“I wish,” he mumbled, taking a hearty bite out of a sausage pastry.

“Don’t tell me Toben Boone was turned down.” Renata sat in the chair beside him.

He shook his head and rested his elbows on the long wooden table. After he’d forced himself to leave Poppy’s place, he’d been unable to sleep. He replayed every second with his son—over and over. He lay in his bunk, his mind racing with questions he wanted answered. Stupid things like Rowdy’s bedtime routine. Did he have one, growing up on the circuit? What was his favorite food? He’d said he liked pie but Toben didn’t know if he was being polite or honest. Did he like rope tricks? Know how to play horseshoes? Was he left-handed, like Toben was?

He wanted to know more. To see more.

Rowdy’s smile. His laugh. He was a fine boy. Poppy had done a good job.

But once he started thinking about Poppy, things got mixed up. It’d be easier if she weren’t...Poppy. But she was. She was the same. And now she was the mother of his son. And while he was undeniably proud of his son, Poppy’s part in this turn of events was a raw and open wound.

He slammed his coffee cup down on the table with unexpected force.

“Still stewing?” Deacon asked, entering the break room and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Archer trailed behind.

“Hush,” Renata said. “I don’t know what’s eating him, but it’s too early to pick. Be nice, boys.”

Toben shot his cousin a grin, accepting the kiss she pressed to his temple.

“Archer, I have an idea,” Renata said. “I know it’s early, but I met Poppy White at Pop’s Bakery today and she might be someone to bring in for next summer’s riding camp. We could finally have an advanced camp, see if she’d agree to teach some tricks, maybe even consider some one-on-one training for future barrel racers?”

Toben sat back in his chair. Here he was hoping he’d catch a break. Couldn’t a man eat his breakfast in peace? He glanced at Archer—curious to hear what his prickly cousin would have to say.

“Poppy who?” Archer asked.

“White.” Renata rolled her eyes. “She’s rodeo royalty, someone that could help the refuge.”

“Why would she want to?” Archer asked, pouring himself some coffee.

“She has a son.” Renata leaned against the counter. “Well-spoken little guy, all manners and smiles. Made me think she might be good with kids.”

Toben was grinning as he stared into his coffee cup. She’d described Rowdy to a T. His boy did have manners. And a smile—his mama’s smile. His grin faded.

“Guess so. If Toben’s okay with it?” Archer asked, peering into the pastry box.

Toben sat up then, leveling a hard stare at Deacon. “Really?” Archer knew? Shit.

Deacon held up his hands. “He heard us talking.”

Archer looked back and forth between them, one brow arching high. “What?”

“I’m missing something.” Renata pushed off the counter, her attention bouncing between the three of them. “What’s going on?”

Archer and Deacon stared at him, clearly intending for him to be the one to share the news.

“You don’t like her?” Renata asked. “I guess you know her from your rodeo days? She seemed perfectly nice to me. So did her son and fella. Good-looking guy and a real cute family—”

Toben stood so fast he bumped his coffee cup onto the floor. He shook his head, mumbling a curse as he hunted down some paper towels. He knew they were watching him, knew he was making a jackass out of himself and knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

So her boyfriend was here, the one Rowdy had mentioned? So what? Shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. It didn’t change the fact that Rowdy was his son... He needed to make sure Poppy’s fella understood that. He finished wiping up his mess and put the coffee cup in the sink, his chest heavy.

He was a near perfect stranger to his son. Apparently this man wasn’t. He got to have breakfast with him. Might even have the chance to put him to bed. His grip on the counter tightened.