Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

I should’ve seen that coming as soon as Brutal told me his girl, Allyson, had a son, but I hadn’t been prepared to add a smart-mouthed nine-year-old to our family. But we did, and Cooper’s just another one of us now. A tiny version, but family. Brutal, my monster of a brother, is like the hard-shell coating on an ice cream sundae, totally ooey-gooey messy underneath that tough exterior, and he’s taken to fatherhood like it was his life’s purpose all along. His latest fascination is teaching Cooper all about hand tools, hence our newfound evening routine of cornhole after dinner.

“Sit down and tell us all about it, Brody.” Mama Louise’s kind offer of a chair beside her is topped off with a glass of her special sweet tea. It’s special because it’s got more bourbon than sugar, and if you’ve ever had sweet tea, you know it’s got a shit ton of sugar. I make a note to take it easy because we’ve all had Mama Louise’s tea set us on our ass unexpectedly. It goes down so smoothly, you’re drunker than a skunk before you know it. And I’m already three beers in tonight.

I sit down beside Mama Louise, take the offered tea, and have myself a healthy swallow before I say a word. I take the moment to look over my glass at our mish-mash, motley crew of a family.

The Bennetts. Mark, Luke, and James, the three boys who were once enemies and are now pseudo-brothers, though I’d deny that if asked, and Mama Louise, their mother by birth and ours by forced adoption when we were grown—but the woman won’t take no for an answer—are sitting around the yard in old handmade wooden chairs.

And the Tannens. My brother, Bobby, and my sister, Shayanne, are watching Brutal and Cooper play as Allyson watches on like only a mother can. Pretty sure they’re all cheering for Cooper at this point, and Brutal’s shit out of luck.

Katelyn’s gone to sit on Mark’s lap since we got here, where she is half the time you lay eyes on them. And Sophie, James’s wife, has a full-sized goat in her lap, mindlessly scratching under its chin, which means their daughter, Cindy Lou, must be inside asleep already.

It’s not the family I ever thought I’d have, but I’m damn thankful for it. There’s a saying about family, something about it giving you roots and wings. That’s what this right here does for me. I’ve always had roots—to this land, to our herd, to my family. But for a while, I had no wings. I was as landlocked as my cows are. Weighed down by Dad, by bills, by expectations.

When we’d been forced to sell our ranch to the Bennetts in the wake of Dad’s death, and came on as the hired help, I’d fought stubbornly against it. I’d been so arrogant and prideful. Don’t get me wrong. I miss being the one to shine if it’s all good, and even the one to rage if it all goes to hell, but it’s been nice to just work and go home, rinse, and repeat. It’s freeing in a way, finally giving me those wings in a way I didn’t expect.

Mark’s eyeing me, telling me to get on with explaining what happened. If Katelyn wasn’t running her fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, he’d probably still be growling. As it is, with her magic, he’s almost purring. And glaring, but purring and glaring is a damn sight better than growling and glaring.

I take one more sip of my tea before I start, just to irk him because I like stomping all over that line where he goes from okay to aggravated. “Did Shay’s deliveries, had old ladies telling me all day that I was too skinny.” Mama Louise snorts, probably because she’s the one who makes food for all of us and knows how much we can put away in one meal. “I know, right?” I pat my flat belly in confusion. “But Bessie was doing fine until she wasn’t. Felt like the transmission, but I made it to a mechanic shop. They’re going to look at it and call you with an estimate before they do any work.”

Mark grunts. Could mean ‘good job’, could mean ‘I’m gonna beat the shit out of you behind the barn later’—no way to tell for sure. I choose to take it as the former.

Katelyn smiles, never missing a loop on Mark’s hair. “He’s skipping the best part.”

Mark leans in and acts like he’s whispering to her, even though we can all hear him just fine. With an amused tilt of his lips, he asks her, “What’s the best part of my truck needing a couple thousand dollars’ worth of work, Princess?”

“Where’d you go after the mechanic’s, Brody?” I swear, she’s almost sing-songing the question.