Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

“You sure you want to eat dinner with the woman who adopted your daughter a dog without your permission?”

I chuckle. “Frankly, darlin’, I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more than have dinner with you tonight.”

Well, that’s partially true.

There are certainly a few other things I’d love to do more with Leah, but none are appropriate in the company of a five-year-old little girl.

Her cheeks flush pink, and a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth.

“So, sound like a plan?” I question and reach out to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Leah nods. “Sounds like a fantastic plan.”

I don’t know why her response makes me feel like I can walk on fucking water, but it does.

The sky is pitch black by the time I drive Leah home, and the wheels of my truck crunch over gravel as I bring it to a stop in front of her cabin.

“I had fun tonight,” Leah says from the passenger seat, her voice quiet in the cab.

“I did too,” I tell her and steal a glance in the rearview mirror to see that Joey is sound asleep in the back seat with Ernie curled up against her.

“And sorry again about, you know, the dog.”

I chuckle softly at that. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly thrilled that I’m now the owner of a rat, but I definitely understand how it went down.”

“You’re a really good dad, Rhett. I hope you know that.”

Her words give me pause, and I search her eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she answers without hesitation. “My mom reminds me a lot of Joey’s mom. She was never very good at sticking around or being in the motherly role. Though, I didn’t have a dad like you to pick up the slack.”

“That’s fuckin’ awful. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she responds with a nod. “Luckily, I did have Sam, and he always looked out for me.”

“He’s a good man.”

Her smile is reminiscent. “He is. I mean, he’s still a pain-in-the-ass brother sometimes, but for the most part, he’s one of the best.”

“Do you want to have kids of your own someday?”

“I’m not sure,” she answers, and her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“You don’t think you want to get married?”

“It’s not that.” She shakes her head. “It’s just…I don’t know. A child is a huge responsibility, and I’ve been on the receiving end of what poor parenting can do to you. I guess I just want to make sure if I ever do have kids that I’m ready to be the mom they deserve.”

I hate that this beautiful, intelligent, kind, and strong woman has these kinds of doubts.

It’s one thing if she simply doesn’t feel that she wants kids, but it’s more than apparent to me that the thing that would hold her back from having kids is a fear that she wouldn’t be a good enough mom.

Which is fucking ridiculous.

I mean, look at how she is with my Joey.

I’ve never seen a more lovable, kind and caring, maternal soul in my life.

It’s why my daughter is so in awe of her. It’s why Joey always wants to spend time with her.

Without even knowing it, Leah gives Joey all the maternal things that she craves because her own mama isn’t around.

Suddenly, the urge to pull her closer to me is too strong to deny.

“Come here,” I say and lift up the center console so there’s nothing in between us anymore.

Leah tilts her head to the side in confusion, and I don’t hesitate to wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close to my side.

“I already know the kind of mother you’d be,” I whisper, and she looks up at me with searching eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Because I just know,” I answer honestly. “You’d be an amazing mom. You care, but you also know how to loosen up and have a good time. Any kid who would have you as a mom would grow up with nothing but love and support and encouragement and comfort and safety.”

“You really think that?”

“Leah, I know that.” I reach down and lift her chin so her eyes lock with mine. “You’re amazing.”

Silence stretches between us, and we just stare at each other for the longest moment.

My eyes flit down to her lips and back to her steady gaze, and the urge to lean forward, to press my lips against hers, becomes all-consuming. It’s the only fucking thing I can think about. We’ve been dancing around it for too fucking long, and I can’t take it for even a minute longer.

I want to know what those full lips of hers feel like.

I want to know what she tastes like.

I want to know what her soft breaths feel like against my skin.

Fuck it.

I give in to the desire, slowly moving forward, closing off the distance, the entire time my eyes watching hers, making sure she’s thinking and feeling the same things I’m thinking and feeling.