Ryder stared at the house. “There’s a woman?”
Toben cleared his throat. “And my son.”
Ryder’s blue eyes went round and he sat back. “Well, now. When’s he due?”
“He’s six. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for...a lot to make up for. Question is, how?” He shook his head, the shame that had been sitting on his chest for three days making it hard to say a word. “What I did...” He shook his head again.
“Can’t get beyond it?” Ryder asked. “If you don’t let go, they can’t. All you can do is start now.”
Toben looked at his cousin. “Why the hell would they want me in their life?”
“You’ll have to figure that out. No more feeling sorry for yourself or talking yourself out of doing what needs to be done.” Ryder pointed at the house. “It’s work. Every day. But, damn, is it worth it.”
Toben stared at his hands, the black beneath his nails.
“You want this boy in your life?” Ryder asked.
“Yes.”
“His mother?” Ryder paused. “Seems to me you don’t have room for mistakes here, Toben. You need to be damn sure of what you want before you answer that one.”
Poppy White. He wanted her. She seemed to flip a switch he hadn’t known existed whenever she walked into the room. If he could turn it off, he should—but he couldn’t. More important, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d spent years trying to get Poppy White into his bed. In the process, he’d let her into his heart. Thinking about it now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever let her out.
But Ryder was right.
“Focus on your son. I can’t imagine not seeing those boys every day, letting them know I’m their daddy and I’m proud of them.” He stared into his empty glass, then smiled and reached for Toben’s. “They need lots of love when they’re little—to know it, feel it, believe it. Best way to do that is be there.”
Toben swallowed. Could he be there, face-to-face, without his shame killing him?
“She trying to keep you from him?” Ryder asked.
He shook his head.
“Then why the hell are you here?” Ryder asked, standing.
“I can’t...shake the hurt. I did this. I tore up the letters she wrote. I never returned a single damn phone call. She tried to tell me about our son, over and over, and I turned my back on her—on them. I have no right to be there,” he ground out.
“Maybe you don’t. But not being there tells that boy there are things that come before him.” Ryder put his hands on his hips.
“That’s not true.” Toben stood, his irritation mounting. He hadn’t come here to get an extra heap of guilt and feel worse.
“I know that. You know that. But your son—What’s his name?” Ryder asked.
“Rowdy.” He grinned.
Ryder’s smile was broad. “Rowdy needs to know that. He comes first now. Period. If you want to be a better man, that’s all you need to know and do.”
Toben sucked in a deep breath.
“Is this the rodeo gal?” Ryder asked. “The one Renata wants carrying the flag in the parade.”
Toben nodded. “Poppy White.”
Ryder nodded. “You were sweet on her, I remember.”
“Guess I still am,” he mumbled.
Ryder laughed. “Start with Rowdy. Something tells me winning over your son is going to be a hell of a lot easier than winning over the woman.”
Toben handed Ryder the wrench. “Thanks for the lemonade.”
“Anytime. Bring him over. Rowdy. Cody’s not that much older than him.”
Toben waved and set off for the truck. Even though it had been only three days, he missed Rowdy something fierce. He didn’t want to miss him anymore. He turned the truck and headed to the winding country road that would take him to his family.
Chapter Eleven
“The kids are wiped out,” Rose said, helping Poppy load the dishwasher. “Maybe we need to get a pool.”
“They do love the water.” But Poppy suspected it had more to do with the hours of play, their father’s involvement and the adventure they’d shared swimming up the river a ways. “You should come with us tomorrow, Rose.”
“In the river?” Rose shook her head. “I’ve never been outdoorsy like you, Poppy. You know that.”
“All you have to do is float. I have an inner tube. The kids will push you along.”
“Maybe,” Rose said.
“Mitchell wants some citronella candles.” Bob peered in the screen door.
Poppy pulled three of the large tin candles out from under the sink. “The lighter is in the drawer,” she said to Rose. “Can you get it for Bob?”
Bob retreated, carrying the candles and lighter back to the fire pit. The kids were gathered around, waiting for the s’mores supplies. Poppy grabbed a box of graham crackers, several chocolate bars and a bag of marshmallows.
“Isn’t it a little late for sugar?” Rose asked, following her outside.
“Yes. But it’s a treat.” Poppy put the supplies down and sat beside Rowdy on the large rocks that surrounded the fire pit. “A yummy, sticky, gooey treat.”
“Are we supposed to sing songs, too?” Bob asked.
“Do you want to sing?” Mitchell asked.
“No,” Otis said quickly. “Dad can’t sing.”
“Don’t let him,” Dot echoed.
“Ma can sing,” Rowdy piped up.
Poppy looked at her son. “No, I can’t, Rowdy.”
“Sure you can,” Rowdy pushed. “You used to sing to me every night. And you still do, when you’re in the shower or working out in the barn. I hear you.”
“Maybe I only do it then because I think no one can hear me.” She laughed, smoothing the curls from his forehead.
“I like it,” Rowdy said.
She wrapped her arm around him and tugged him close. “That’s because you love me.” She tickled his ribs until he was breathless. “How about we just stick with s’mores?”
Mitchell stripped the bark off several long branches, skewered some white fluffy marshmallows and distributed them to the kids. “Don’t let ’em catch fire—then they’ll be all charred.”
Poppy smiled at Mitchell, feeling calm now that he was here. He’d always done that, made her comfortable. Right now that was what she needed: comfort.
He arched an eyebrow at her and grinned.
“He’s a handsome man,” Rose whispered. “A girl could do much worse.”
Poppy nodded. There was no arguing the truth. Mitchell was a good man. Handsome to boot. But Mitchell didn’t set her on fire. He didn’t make her world tip, her insides melt and her lungs ache for air. His touch didn’t make every inch of her tighten and yearn. Only one man did that. She stared into the leaping flames, pushing the image of Toben Boone aside.
“Want one?” Rowdy asked, offering her a marshmallow.
Seconds later chocolate and marshmallow covered all three kids’ cheeks and chins.
“Now, that’s a picture.” Bob laughed. “Y’all squish together and say cheese.”
The kids did, hamming it up with silly faces.
“How’s the road been treating you?” Rose asked Mitchell.
“Good, good. No complaints. I’m lucky, doing something I love and getting to see a little bit of the world, too.” His rich voice rolled over them.
Poppy grinned, knowing he was “on” for her sister and brother-in-law. She could always tell because his emcee voice took over. She shook her head, popping the last of her s’more into her mouth.
“No thoughts of settling down someplace?” Rose asked.
Mitchell shrugged. “From time to time. But I figure I’ve got to take the hand I’ve been dealt and play it through.”
Poppy ro
lled her eyes, shooting him a look. Really?
Rose pushed. “No special lady? You don’t want a family?”
“Rose.” Bob sighed. “Another s’more?”
Rose shook her head, holding up her hand to ward off the s’more Bob was offering up. “Excuse me for caring. Mitchell’s been a part of our family for...years. I can’t help wanting to see him settled and happy.”
Mitchell shot Poppy a look. They both knew what her sister was up to. Rose had been devastated when they called off their engagement. More devastated than either of them. If they ever thought to try again, Poppy had no doubt that Rose would be over the moon.
Headlights bounced along her driveway, and Poppy stood to see better. It was too dark to be sure, but the truck was white and she thought she could see the Boone Ranch logo on its door.
Toben? Now?
She glanced back at her sister, then Mitchell.
“Who is that?” Bob asked.
“Probably someone who’s all turned around,” Poppy murmured.
“I’ll set ’em straight,” Mitchell offered, heading toward the truck before Poppy could stop him.
Poppy glanced at Rowdy, happily stacking far too much chocolate onto a new s’more. She’d let Mitchell handle it. A talk with Toben needed to happen, but right now wasn’t the time. She was still angry from his sudden absence—and Rowdy’s distress. She would only get worked up. Rose would pick up on that and turn it into something big and dramatic.
“Want another one?” Rowdy asked, offering her the overflowing s’more.
“That’s not going to fit into a human’s mouth,” Poppy argued. “Not without the need for a bath and scrubbing afterward.”
“I don’t mind,” Rowdy said, shoving a third of the sticky sandwich into his mouth.
Bob glanced over his shoulder in the direction Mitchell had gone. “You’re sort of isolated out here, aren’t you?” he asked.
Poppy smiled. “One of the perks of living in the country.”
“You should get a big dog,” Bob suggested. “Or two.”
“Or a husband,” Rose murmured.
“Can we, Ma?” Rowdy asked. “I want a dog.”
“You’ve already got Cheeto to take care of. You don’t think a dog would be one more thing?” She used her bandanna to try to remove some of the chocolate from his cheek.
“Cheeto’s the best but I’m not sure he’d let us know if a stranger was snooping around.” Rowdy licked off the tips of his fingers.
“That’s true, Aunt Poppy,” Dot agreed.
“Get a big, mean dog,” Otis added. “Something scary.”
Poppy laughed. “I’m not sure I want a big, mean, scary dog around the place. But maybe I’ll think about getting a dog.”
“Or a husband.” Rose smiled, taking a cautious bite off her s’more.
“Look who I found.” Mitchell’s voice was off. She glanced back to see Toben at his side.
“Dad!” Rowdy jumped up, forgetting how sticky he was as he launched himself for a hug.
Toben caught him, hugging him tight. “Looks like there’s a party going on.”
Poppy stood, hating the nervousness that washed over her. She should be happy he was here, for Rowdy. But damn if his brief absence didn’t reinforce her original reservations about welcoming Toben into their lives. No matter how much she wanted to believe he’d change for Rowdy, that he’d stay and be a father, she wouldn’t. Worse, she feared her hope, her belief in him, would only end up hurting them.
Mitchell came to her side, his hand resting on her shoulder—squeezing lightly. “He wouldn’t leave,” he whispered.
Poppy nodded, patting his hand.
“Oops, sorry,” Rowdy said, assessing the chocolate-and-marshmallow smear he’d left on Toben’s gray T-shirt.
“It’s fine.” Toben looked at the mess. “Be even better if there’s more. To eat. Not to wear.” His gaze found hers, his smile hardening as his gaze traveled to her shoulder—and Mitchell’s hand.
“I’ll make you one,” Otis volunteered.
“Extra chocolate?” Rowdy asked.
“Sure.” Toben nodded at Bob. “Toben Boone.”
Bob’s laugh was startled. “I figured as much. Bob Mills.” He shook hands with Toben. “This is my wife, Rose.”
“Poppy’s sister.” Toben’s megawatt smile was hard to refuse. “It’s nice to meet you. You’ve got great kids.”
Rose nodded, her expression bewildered. “Thank you.”
“Here, Dad.” Rowdy patted the stump next to him. “Almost ready.”
Toben moved, sitting beside Rowdy. “What have you been up to?”
“We worked in Ma’s shop,” Rowdy said. “Painted the bathroom and break room. Helped put the new belt buckles and boleros in the display case—after we cleaned all the glass. There’s a lot of glass in that place.”
Poppy smiled. The three of them had worked hard, with few complaints. “The place is really coming together. Thanks to the three of you.”
“Sounds like she’s working you all pretty hard. How’s the pay?” Mitchell asked.
“Ice cream.” Otis smiled.
“And pie,” Rowdy added.
“Sounds like a fair working wage to me,” Toben said.
“What do you do, Mr. Boone?” Rose asked.
“He’s a cowboy.” Rowdy’s matter-of-fact delivery made Toben smile.
“I work on the family ranch, ma’am.” Toben took the s’more Rowdy offered him.
“No more rodeo days for you?” Rose asked, her tone snippy. “Poppy said there was nothing more important to you than the rodeo.”
Toben looked at her. “That was true, once. But not anymore.”
“How long has it been since you were on the circuit?” Mitchell asked, sitting down on the log, prompting Poppy to do so, as well. “Couple of years now?”
Toben nodded.
“And in that time you’ve been working on your family’s ranch?” Rose asked.
Toben nodded again.
“Does this work provide a decent income?”
Poppy stared at her sister.
“What?” Rose refused to back down. “He has a son, responsibilities. I’m Rowdy’s aunt—I care about him. And you.” She took Poppy’s hand in hers.
“And while I appreciate that, this isn’t the time or the place.” Poppy leveled a stare at her sister. Her sister’s lack of understanding about boundaries was stepping on her last nerve.
“You don’t have to worry, Mom,” Otis said. “Toben wants Rowdy now.”
The only sound was the pop of the burning wood and the rhythmic chirp of the crickets.
Poppy didn’t know who she was more irritated with: Rose or Toben. Otis was a kid—he thought he was reassuring his mother. When all he’d done was remind everyone what was really going on. Not that she had a clear understanding of what, exactly, was going on. She sighed. Why hadn’t Toben just left? She knew Mitchell would have been as persuasive as possible—so why resist? It could have been a perfectly nice evening if he’d just driven away.
“We need more graham crackers.” She needed space to collect herself.
“I’ll get them,” Mitchell offered.
“No.” She stood, shot him a tight smile and headed into the house.
Poppy hurried to her bathroom and washed her face and hands, running cold water along the back of her neck. She paced the room twice, drawing in long, deep breaths. Why was she so agitated? Her sister was a pain in the ass, but that was nothing new. And this time, she was trying to put Rowdy’s best interests first. Poppy understood—part of her shared the same worries.
And Toben? Learning to control her reaction to him was a necessary survival skill. He wasn’t stupid; he was aware she wasn’t immune
to him. Hopefully, he didn’t realize the extent to which she ached for him—wildly, dangerously... But she didn’t like it. Worse, she didn’t know how to stop. Even now, though she was frustrated and angry with him, the pull of heat between them was there.
She headed back down the hall to the kitchen, her steps slowing when she saw Toben was waiting for her. “I need a minute—”
“I know.” But he stood there—looking far too tempting. His gray shirt hugged his broad shoulders and clung to the well-muscled contours of his chest. “I’m sorry.”
His apology was a surprise. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself tightly. He did look sorry. “For what?” A blanket apology wasn’t going to cut it, not this time. She wasn’t about to make this easy on him.
He stepped forward. “Where do I start?” He frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows.
She swallowed, his heat rolling over her and weakening her resolve. “Now’s not the time, Toben. And I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”
“No?” he asked, closing the gap between them. “I think we’ve wasted enough time. I’m sorry for being a selfish sonofabitch. I’m sorry you had to raise Rowdy on your own. I’m sorry you thought I didn’t want him...or you. Because I do, every damn day.”
“Every day?” Her expression was surprised. She was not going to let his words make her feel warm and fuzzy. Nope. No way. “Even the last three days? Toben, you should have been here. Or called.”
“You’re right—I should have,” he agreed.
But she wasn’t done. “The last few days Rowdy’s wondered what he did to send you away. He asked me if it was because he hadn’t gone to dinner with the Boones, that maybe his cousins were right about you changing your mind.” She let her anger swallow the tingles his closeness stirred. “I won’t lie for you, Toben. I don’t lie.”
“I know.” His voice was raw, his expression devastated.
“I didn’t know what to say to him. You can’t just show up when you want, like now, then leave him with no word. He’s a boy, a child. Children need reassurance and consistency and routine. Maybe...maybe we should talk to a lawyer about a formal custody—”
“Poppy?” Mitchell’s voice, Mitchell’s booted steps on the wooden porch.
A Son for the Cowboy Page 12
