Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

Joey runs over and hits Leah full speed in the legs, hugging her tight and turning her cheek to lean it into Leah’s warmth.

Leah’s hand moves slowly, almost like she can’t believe the tenderness my daughter is showing her, and gently, ever so reverently, she strokes at the top of my baby girl’s head.

I clear my throat, and she pushes Joey back gently before tapping just the tip of one finger to the apple of her cheek. “It’s been so nice to meet you, Joey.”

Joey giggles. “Next time, you can do my hair!”

Leah smiles, but it’s vaguely sad. I think she’s at least smart enough to realize that as far as I’m concerned, Joey and I aren’t going to see her again.

“Next time.”

With a deep breath, Leah straightens to her full height and fixes her fancy, so-bright-it’s-practically-blinding dress. It wasn’t out of place, but I think for some reason it makes her nerves feel better to pretend like it was.

And fuck, I hate that I notice how goddamn curvaceous and tempting her body is when she turns and heads down the hall toward the door. It’s like her ass is purposely swaying back and forth to throw my focus off-kilter.

Don’t even go there, you bastard.

With a roll of my eyes, I hobble along to follow her, ordering again, “Joey, stay here.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I get to the front door as she’s opening the door of my dad’s old Jeep and preparing to climb inside, and I push through the screen to catch her attention. When she looks back up at the house, I do my best to be a decent human being. As far as I can tell, she’s been swindled just as hard as I have.

“I’m sorry you went to all the trouble and that you got dragged into the middle of this shit. But this is a whole lot bigger than you realize.”

She shields her eyes from the sun with a hand atop her forehead and nods. “I’m just here to help with your knee.”

“Darlin’, come on now. You’re smarter than that. My dad’s been tryin’ like hell to turn me into a puppet, and you’re just decoration on the strings. Besides,” I continue with a shrug. “My knee’s fine. Healin’ by the day. And I can assure you, I’ve been through a lot worse. Just part of the cowboy way of life.”

She opens her mouth to speak again but then, seemingly, thinks better of it.

With a final wave, she climbs up into the Jeep and turns over the key with a crank. It whines and sputters, but it’ll be damned if it’s going to start.

Why on earth would he have given her that old piece of shit to drive around? It’s like he’s asking for fucking trouble. Lord knows this ranch has more than a few trucks and SUVs that he could’ve loaned, but ole Tex gave the fancy doctor the one vehicle I wouldn’t trust on a seventy-degree sunny day.

I sigh heavily as she tries again and again and again, almost definitely flooding the engine by pumping her foot on the gas pedal.

“Stop, stop!” I yell when she cranks it over again and holds it while it whines. “Goddammit,” I mutter to myself, shuffling to the edge of the porch and leaning into the railing so I can hop down the steps on one foot. Each jump jars my knee enough to make me grit my teeth, but I seal my lips and bear it until I make it to the bottom and go back to waddling.

Leah hops down out of the Jeep and jogs toward me, holding out a hand toward my leg. “You really shouldn’t do that,” she says with a fine sheen of panic in her eyes. “You’re only four weeks out from surgery. You should still be using crutches at this point.”

The irony of the situation damn near makes me laugh.

“Darlin’, I was just about to tell you the same thing. Are you tryin’ to kill this old junker on purpose, or is it just a happy accident?”

“What?”

“The Jeep, Leah. You can’t just keep crankin’ and floodin’ the engine like that. You’re only makin’ it worse.”

“Funny. Because with the way you’re moving around, I could say the same about your knee.”

I narrow my eyes. “My knee is fine. And I’ll grab some tools to get it runnin’ again.”

“How about you tell me where the tools are, and I’ll go get them.” She scowls toward me, her eyes openly challenging, and suddenly, I’m not feeling so sorry for roping her into my anger anymore.

“Sure.” I smirk. “I need a can of starter fluid, a flathead screwdriver, and a socket wrench with a five-eighths and thirteen-sixteenths head.”

“Right.” She nods five times like that’s somehow going to make her know what the hell I’m talking about. “Of course. Anything else?”