“You hungry?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I could always eat. I can heat one of the meals from the freezer again.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at Bear. “George. Clooney. He would have been legal and is tall, dark, and handsome.”
Bear shook his head. “No.”
“Brad. Pitt.” I held up my hand. “No, that won’t work. He’s blond.”
“Greta.”
“Oh, oh. I know who it is. Richard Gere.” I shook my finger at Bear. “Not only is he the right age, but he’s a major silver fox. I could totally see him and your mom making you.”
“I’m losing you again, aren’t I?” he laughed.
I held up my hands. “Hold the presses. I know who your daddy is.”
“This is going to be good,” he drawled.
“Mel Gibson.” That was the winner right there. If you mixed Bear’s mom and Mel Gibson, you would totally get a man like Bear.
“That is the best guess you’ve had, but I am almost one hundred percent sure that my dad was not anyone famous, mama, and I am okay with that.”
I pouted out my lips and folded my arms over my chest. “Whatever. Can we at least say he was a lumberjack, then?”
“That’s about all I am going to say.”
I could tell I was pushing Bear as far as he wanted to go about thinking who his dad was. “You don’t want to know who is.”
It wasn’t a question. It was pretty much me telling myself to shut up.
“No, I do not, mama.” Bear winked and I knew that was his kind way of telling me to drop guessing and obsessing over who his dad could have been.
“Do you have any other surprises up your sleeves? Like your mom’s fourth cousin was Elvis?” I curled my lip and thrust my hips.
“Actually,” Bear drawled
“No,” I gasped. Did I just hit that one right on the head? Maybe I was becoming psychic.
“No one in my family is famous.”
My face fell, and I turned in my seat. “That was cruel. You got my hopes up.”
Bear chuckled and pulled into a packed parking lot. “You’ll get over it, mama. Just keep daydreaming of who my dad could be.”
Bear drove around the parking lot until a spot opened.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He killed the engine and took off his seat belt. “Springer’s.”
“And what is a Springer’s?”
Bear motioned to all the cars in the parking lot. “The best place to get a homemade meal within thirty miles.”
“Well, so far I believe you since there are so many cars here.” I opened my door and hopped down from the Bronco.
Bear rounded the truck and grabbed my hand. “I like this one better than your new one.”
“Really?” Bear glanced back at his old Bronco.
“Yeah, it’s not as tall as your other one. I can get in without have to give a running jump.”
Bear laughed and opened the door to Springer’s. “I’ll have a step that swings down when you open the door added to the other Bronco.”
“Does that mean I’ll be getting in and out of your truck?” I asked.
Bear leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips as I walked past him. “That’s the plan, mama.”