Standing His Ground: Greer (Porter Brothers Trilogy 2)

Greer was staring down at Logan, but his eyes looked vacant, as if he wasn’t there. His hand traveled down to Logan’s chest, rested for a second, and then moved to his side then his stomach.

Holly thought he was comforting the little boy, trying to get him to relax so he could fall asleep. He even raised up to trail a hand over his legs and feet.

Greer stole her heart the way he was lovingly treating his nephew, imagining him bringing the same affection on his own son.

“Boy, get your butt out of bed and get dressed. You’re going to school.”

Aghast at how he could be loving one minute and a drill sergeant the next, she could only stare at him openmouthed as he jackknifed out of bed and jerked the covers off Logan.

“Greer, he’s sick!”

“There ain’t a damn thing wrong with the boy. He’s going to school.”

“Dustin, I think he should go to the pediatrician. He’s having these stomachaches more frequently.”

Dustin stood up from the bed. “Get ready for school. I can be late for my appointment. I’ll take you myself.”

“You’re taking Greer’s side over mine?” Hurt, she met his determined gaze.

The dominant side of Dustin didn’t come out often, usually letting his brothers take the lead, but when he set his foot down, there was no budging it. He was just like his brother in that irritating trait.

Well, the two arrogant men weren’t the only ones who could put their foot down.

“He’s staying.”

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” Greer stepped in front of her, blocking her from Logan’s sight.

Holly took a step to the side, seeing Logan’s face crumple.

“I don’t want to go because of Fynn.”

“Who’s Fynn?” Holly asked as the two men’s faces grew grim.

“Silas’ half-brother.”

“The little bas—”

Holly pinched Greer on the back of the arm. He didn’t bother to look at her, moving his arm out of reach.

“What’s he been doing to you?”

“He makes me trade lunches with him. I don’t like his. His is bologna and mayonnaise.”

Holly couldn’t blame him. She hated the taste of bologna. She wouldn’t be able to eat, either.

“Damn, they can’t even make a sandwich. They could at least put mustard on it.”

She was going to do it. She was going to pull every strand of her hair out. The men were beyond hope.

“Sweetheart, have you told your teacher you don’t want to trade lunches with him?”

“I did, but he went outside to play and wouldn’t pick me for his team.”

Dustin went to the drawer she had made for Logan, pulling out his clothes. “Get dressed,” he said firmly.

Logan’s eyes watered, unable to believe his father was making him go to school.

“I’ll go to school with you and talk to your teacher—”

“No, you won’t.” Dustin and Greer shook their head.

Holly couldn’t believe the men were being so hard-hearted that they wouldn’t let her talk to his teacher.

“Boy, you remember that chicken that got his wing caught in the fence?”

Holly blanched, remembering it vividly. She had gone outside one morning to feed the chickens, then gone back inside to fix breakfast. Everything had been fine, not noticing that one of the greedier chickens had tried to reach through a hole in the fence where she had hung her basket, letting the feed fall to the ground below.

By the time she had come outside with Logan, the sound of the squealing chickens had drawn them closer. It had been a blood bath with the other chickens ganging up on the injured chicken, pecking it to death. The gruesome scene had her screaming and Logan yelling. Dustin, Tate, and Greer had run outside to see what the commotion was, and Dustin had been the one to get them back inside as his brothers had removed what was left.

“Yes, sir.”

“Those chickens killed the injured one, because it was weak and defenseless. You can stay home and be like that hurt chicken, or you can be the rooster that keeps them other chickens in control.”

“I’m not a chicken!”

“You’ve been pretending to be sick; that sounds like a chicken to me.” Greer stared at him without sympathy. “You think you’re the only one who’s been picked on? Shit, the first pair of shoes I wore to school was an old pair of Tate’s. They stunk up the whole classroom. They made fun of me every day.”

“Did you punch them when they made fun of you?”

“I couldn’t. Pa said if I got in trouble in school, he would give me a whipping when I got home. It was hard not to. Silas was in the seat behind me, and he would make fun of me behind my back, making gagging noises that made everyone laugh.”

“How did you make them stop? Did you take the whipping your pa said he would give you and hit Silas?”

Greer gave his nephew a mocking smile. “Nope. The teacher couldn’t take the smell anymore and bought me a brand-new pair. Gave them to me in front of the whole classroom.”