The Cowboy's Unexpected Family

She pulled her hand away, holding it to her chest as if he’d somehow hurt her all over again.

He wore his body like an oversized suit, small inside. Where it counted. “I’m sorry,” he told her. Too wasted to even feel embarrassed.

“It’s...it’s okay.”

“You were right last night. I’m not half the man A.J. was.”

Her eyes were wide. Coal black. “I...I didn’t say that, Walter.”

He blinked. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

From the living room he heard the sliding glass door open and Lucy arrived, a tall blond boy behind her.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Walter.

“You’re up.”

He nodded, feeling suddenly like a zoo animal.

“Walter, not sure if you remember Aaron…” She shifted, holding an arm out to the kid.

“Of course I remember. The kid’s a neighbor.”

The boy smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

Walter smiled at his manners. Annie wouldn’t have raised her sons to be anything but respectful.

“You staying for dinner?” he asked, the rough shape of his voice made it sound like an accusation.

Aaron glanced sideways at Lucy, who glowered at Walter. “I suppose I am,” Aaron finally said. “If...if that’s all right with you?”

“Be nice to have a full table,” he said and nearly smiled at Lucy’s slack-jawed expression. It was good to surprise the girl. He grinned at her as he retrieved his cane and hobbled past her to the living room and the porch beyond.

The sun was shining and he wanted to feel it on his face.

Jeremiah sat on the back porch and thought about basketball. Laundry. Anything to cool the heat in his blood after that kiss with Lucy. But it wasn’t working.

He thought about reeking hockey equipment, but in his mind he only saw Lucy winking at him. And his body responded to the image like a young boy’s.

Behind him, the sliding glass door gasped and popped as someone opened it.

“Lucy—”

“Nope.”

Jeremiah spun in his chair, and then stood at the sight of the old man coming out onto the deck.

“Walter.”

“That’s my chair.” He pointed with his cane at the seat Jeremiah had been sitting in.

“Here,” he said, jerking it sideways, closer to Walter, who collapsed into it.

Walter looked thinner, the skin on his cheeks and neck hung a little from his bones. He was pale and shaky, but his blue eyes were clear. Searing. And fixated on the beer bottle in Jeremiah’s hand.

“You want a beer?” Jeremiah asked, lifting his empty bottle, hoping he’d say yes and Jeremiah could hide out in the kitchen. Check out the leftover situation, do some cherry picking, anything but awkward small talk with Walter.

Walter stared at the bottle for a moment as if Jeremiah was holding up the proof of something Walter didn’t quite want to believe. “More than you know. But no thanks.”

So much for hiding out in the kitchen. Jeremiah braced himself against the railing and stared down at Ben and Casey, shucking corn in the grass. Casey was taking corn silk and hanging it over his ears like a patchy blond wig. “Look Ben,” he said, his little-boy voice carrying up to Jeremiah. “I’m a girl.” Casey fluttered his eyes and pursed his lips like some kind of cartoon female.

Jeremiah smiled. Such a goofball that kid.

“You’re a dork,” Ben said, without looking up, tearing at the corn silk like he wanted to hurt it.

“Met your boy in there.” Walter jerked his thumb back to the house. “The blond one. Very polite.”

“My sister’s boy,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Walter. “Her oldest.”

Walter’s eyes focused in on him and it wasn’t casual. Those eyes, they were dead serious. Jeremiah had the fleeting impression that he’d spent a lot of years underestimating this man.

“Your sister died, right.”

Jeremiah nodded, his throat thick, wondering what the hell was happening. The old man was a drunk but he’d been at the funeral. “Last winter.”

Walter carefully put his feet out in front of him, tilted his head up to the sun as if he’d been in a cave. He closed his eyes.

“At some point you’re probably going to have to get used to the idea that they’re yours.”

9

A fresh start, Lucy thought on Friday afternoon, staring into the dust plume kicked up by the bus traveling from town to the ranch. That’s what she and Ben needed. She’d been naive to think that they’d pick some vegetables and everything would be all right.

Life wasn’t a movie, she knew that.

But she was determined to try again. If not for the kid, if not for her self-esteem, then for Jeremiah. Because the guy needed a break. And because she wasn’t about to tell him that she couldn’t handle Ben. That she’d failed. Again.

She waited out by the end of the drive where the bus would drop him off. The wind had picked up, swirling dust into her eyes despite her sunglasses.