Page 43 of Ride a Cowboy

“I hate that nickname,” Adele said, arms crossed. “And I told you. I don’t know. Besides, this is all your fault anyway. Telling Macie about how special Sharon made Coop’s birthday every year and how he didn’t celebrate it last year without her.”

“You told her that too?” Hank asked, exasperated. Clearly, Macie had felt a great deal of pressure to make the day perfect. And given the current state of his kitchen, she was upset at failing.

Before Porter could answer, Adele’s phone beeped with an incoming text. She snickered.

“Macie?” Hank asked.

Adele nodded. “Yeah. She wants me to swing by KFC to pick up a bucket and deliver it to your place.”

“So she’s back at the ranch?”

Adele grinned. “I’m gonna say yes, since that’s where her phone is.”

Hank chuckled. “Shit. Yeah. Forgot about that. Don’t worry about the chicken, Adele. I’ll grab some on the way home. Save you a trip.”

Adele groaned. “She’s going to hate that. She really did want your birthday to be perfect.”

“It’ll be fine.” Hank was touched by Macie’s efforts.

The bell over the door to the restaurant rang and Macie’s aunt, Beverly walked in with a box. “Hey, Adele. Macie wants you to take this cake out to the ranch. It’s for…” She spotted Hank standing there. “What are you doing here?”

Hank grinned and pointed to the box. “My birthday cake?”

Beverly looked as if she wanted to lie, but in the end, she just handed it to him. “Happy Birthday. Hope you like chocolate.”

Hank accepted the box. “I love it. We better get rolling, Porter. I don’t want to be late to my birthday supper.”

Porter rolled his eyes. “The one you’re buying? Why don’t you head on back? I’ll catch a ride with Addie later.”

Adele scowled. “No, you won’t. I don’t live anywhere near the ranch.”

Porter appeared to ignore her words. “What time do you get off, Addie?

Adele threw up her hand. “I’m not talking to you as long as you persist in calling me that. And I’m sure as hell not driving you home.”

She walked back to the kitchen and, to Hank’s amazement, Porter started to follow her. “Catch you later, Coop.”

Hank’s curiosity about Porter and Adele was short-lived, his excitement about his birthday dinner growing. He hopped in his truck, swung through the drive-thru at the KFC for a bucket, and then headed home.

Macie’s car was parked in its usual spot when he arrived.

He wasn’t two steps in the front door when he heard her in the kitchen. From the sounds of things, she hadn’t finished the cleanup.

When he walked into the kitchen, he realized she hadn’t made much headway at all. At least ninety percent of the disaster he’d witnessed earlier remained.

“Shit,” she said when she looked up and spotted him. Then she saw the bucket of chicken and the cake box in his hands. “Where did you get that?”

“I was at the restaurant when you texted Adele and your aunt. Told them I’d save them a trip.”

His response appeared to be the last straw.

Macie sank down in a chair and bowed her head, exhaustion and frustration taking over. “Shit.” Her voice broke. She was near tears.

Hank set the food down on the table and knelt in front of her. “Hey now. Don’t do that, Whiskey. This is the perfect birthday surprise.”

She glanced up at that, almost sneering. “Oh yeah. Just perfect.” She gestured at the destroyed kitchen. “I burned the chicken. The mashed potatoes are chunky and sort of raw. And I don’t have a fucking clue what happened to that cake. The kitchen’s a wreck. I owe you a skillet, by the way.”

He lifted one shoulder casually, trying very hard not to laugh. “I still owe you a nightie, so we’ll call it even.”

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