Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

“In the office with Tierney. Crazy woman is teaching him his numbers and I’ll be damned if the kid hasn’t learned them. He can count to ten.”

She and Fletch exchanged an amused look at Bran’s pride.

Jake squirmed and opened his eyes.

The sight made her melt. Baby Jake was a blue-eyed heartbreaker to boot.

“Heya, buddy,” Bran said softly. He moved the carrying handle and picked Jake up, bringing him to his shoulder as he stood. Patting the infant on the back, he said, “He’ll start fussin’ in a second. That oughta get his mama out here right quick.”

Sure enough, Jake squalled and Harper practically came running. “What . . . ? Bran? What’re you doing here?” Her gaze scanned the room. “And where is Tate?”

“I left him at home alone in the garage with the power tools, a pack of matches, a stack of  p**n  and a bottle of vodka.” Before Harper retorted, he said, “I do know how to look after our son, sweetheart. He’s upstairs with Tierney.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I told you I had to do one thing before I left.”

“I came to prod you along. We gotta get on the road so we don’t miss our flight.”

Harper walked over and took the fussy baby from him. “You mean my flight.”

Bran shook his head. “I’m comin’ with you. So’s Tate. He oughta be real wound up by the time we get to Denver. Don’t envy those folks on the plane with us.”

“But . . .” Harper looked completely bewildered.

He curled his hands around her face. “You’re not doin’ this alone. And you’d have known that, had you not raced outta the house before I got off the phone.”

“But the cattle—”

“Will be fine. I’ve lined up help for Les, which oughta give him an incentive to get his work done and not screw around. Since we both know how much the cranky old coot loves to have helpers underfoot.”

Harper laughed and sniffled.

“Nothin’ is more important to me than you and our family. Nothin’.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Liberty is my family too. Bein’ a family means we always stick together, got it?”

Tanna probably should’ve turned away to give them privacy, but the love and connection between these two caused warring feelings inside her: joy for their obvious happiness, sadness that she might never experience that for herself.

At that moment Fletch reached for her hand and squeezed.

She looked up. Whoa. When had they moved so close to each other?

But Fletch was focused on Harper and Bran too.

Bran placed a kiss on Jake’s head. “Now gimme back my boy. I’ll get Tate and you finish your business with Tanna. Five minutes. That’s it.”

Harper muttered something and Bran laughed. Then she faced Tanna. “Okay. All the lists from the past three years are in the file on the desk. I’ll have my cell phone with me so if you need something, text me.”

Tanna hip-checked Fletch. “See? Everyone in the world texts except you.”

“Now that I’m living up here for a bit I can just knock on your door if I wanna talk to you.”

“Shoot. I forgot to do one thing.” Harper raced into the back room.

Bran hefted the baby carrier. “Thanks for easing Harper’s mind, Tanna.”

“No problem. But it still strikes me as odd. Part of my job is to rotate merchandise. Why is this such a big deal?”

“Because it’s Harper’s favorite activity of the year and now she won’t get to do it.” He shrugged. “I don’t get why she loves ripping the plastic packaging off shit and steaming out the wrinkles, but I don’t question what makes her happy. The fact she trusts you to do it says a lot.” He looked at Fletch. “You comin’?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

After Bran left, Fletch lowered his lips to hers, giving her a kiss both hot and sweet.

“What was that for?” she said, a little breathlessly.

A secret smile crossed his face. “Just because.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Anytime. So, you wanna hang out after you’re done here? There’ll be daylight left so we can shoot skeet. There’s a range outside of Muddy Gap.”

“You’re taking me on a gun date?”

“Yep. Do you have a shotgun?”

Tanna rolled her eyes at the ridiculous question. “Did you somehow forget I’m from Texas?”

“My mistake.” He kissed her again. “See you later, sugar twang.”

Skeet shooting would take her mind off the change in daily schedule that meant for at least the next week, she couldn’t go to Eli’s place.

But she wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment.

Chapter Twenty-one

Fletch pulled up to the fence at Eli’s, parking next to a van with Wyoming government plates. He heard happy, high-pitched shrieks a few seconds before he saw several girls chasing after one another, riling up the dogs yipping at their heels. The girls were part of a state sponsored social program—a pet project of his socially conscious cousin—that tried to curb juvenile delinquency in at-risk Native American kids by pairing them with Indian adults who’d successfully beaten the odds. Fletch watched as the young social worker, a spitfire named Andie who ran the program, followed the girls into the barn.

Eli ambled over, wearing his usual grin. “Mornin’, sunshine.”