Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
That seems to get them in gear, and they trail after me to the house.
“Are we in time out?” Branson asks as they trail after me up the front porch steps and through the living room.
“You’re not in trouble,” I remind them. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A cat dish?”
“No, better than that,” I tell him and head into my bedroom. It smells like Ronnie in here. The sheets are still rumpled from where she slept, and her makeup products are scattered across the dresser top. If she’s found that ring box hidden in my top drawer, she hasn’t mentioned it. I bought it the weekend we met.
Brock tries to climb on the bed, but it’s too tall for his short frame. I grab him and Branson in my arms and plop them down on the bed. They bounce a little and giggle. “It’s like a bouncy castle!”
“Yeah, well, don’t bounce on it. Your mom sleeps there, and I don’t want you breaking the springs for her.” I open the door to the walk-in closet and reach for the boxes I stored on the top shelf. These were going to be future Christmas gifts, but I’m thinking now is a good time. “Here. I got you a present.”
“It’s not even our birthday!” Branson exclaims as I pass them each a white box.
The moment they open the boxes, they both start squealing with excitement.
“I’m a cowboy!” Brock shouts and shoves his hat on his head.
“Me too!” Branson does the same.
I kneel so I’m at their eye level. “This is what a cowboy dad does. He gives his sons hats, so everyone knows they belong to him. You’re not cats. You’re cowboys.”
“Cool!” Brock says.
“Does this mean I can ride Hilda now?” Branson asks, looking up at me from underneath the brim of his hat.
I chuckle and set it right on his head. “No, you’ll ride horses just like your old man.”
Ronnie
“And he built this?” Mira asks again, flicking through the photos on my phone of the boys’ T-rex bed. I snapped a few pictures of it last night to show her. “This man, who was your one-night stand, built your kids custom furniture, put a baby in your belly, and you’re just roommates with him.”
“It’s complicated,” I say, blowing out a breath. The two of us are in my office. After we met up at Sprinkles yesterday, we spent the night texting each other. She told me she wants to spend more time in Courage County, maybe even move here permanently. But there’s a lot to think about since she runs a successful company in Asheville. Cord is supportive of whatever she wants to do so for right now, they just alternate, spending time between Courage and Asheville.
There’s a knock on the door then the boys are barreling inside without waiting for permission. Flint is in the doorway, and he gives me a wave before leaving. I know he has a lot to do today on the farm, but he took time away to be with the boys. He promised them horse rides, and he’s never broken a promise to them.
“Hey, boys! How was your day?” I ask, noting their cowboy hats. Those are new, and I know I didn’t buy them.
“We got to ride the horses again!” Brock explains as he races toward the little cubby where I keep snacks for them. He pulls out a banana then wrinkles his nose and tosses it back in, opting for a box of fruit snacks that he sweet-talked Grandma into buying at the grocery store.
“Not the big ones. Not yet. Flint says when we get big like him then we can ride them all day!” Branson adds and yanks the fruit snacks from his brother. “Gimme.”
“You can’t take your brother’s stuff. There’s a pack for you in the cube.” I make the decree in the court of sibling justice before the case can come before the bench.
Branson grumbles but offers no appeal. He hands it back to his brother before shoving his little arm into the cube and pulling out a fruit snack of his own.
“You guys have cool hats on,” Mira says and passes me back my phone.
Brock stops cramming the gummy snack into his mouth. His chest puffs out. “I got it from my dad!”
My heart skips a beat, and I exchange a look with Mira. “Can you watch them for a second?”
She nods, smirking at me. “Sure. We’ll hang here.”
“Boys, listen to your Aunt Mira,” I tell them as I shove my feet into my shoes and hurry out the door, my heart thundering in my chest.
I don’t have to search long to find Flint. He’s unloading chicken feed from a truck while a country song blares from his radio. He pauses when he sees me, a grin forming on his face.