Page 31 of A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy

This morning’s quiet time was over.

Weston pulled the can off the fire, dumped in the grounds he’d pre-measured, and gave it a stir with a stick. “Want a coffee, Harvey? It’s nearly ready.”

The man blinked as he stared at Weston’s soot-covered billy can. “I’m more of a tea guy myself.”

By dinnertime, the kids were worn right out. Paisley had run a scavenger hunt, and Harvey had taught fishing off the rocks on the edge of camp. Susanna had come into her own taking over the camp kitchen and meals. Weston had taken some of the kids riding a few at a time.

Paisley ran through a series of stretches beside the lake, waiting for the dinner call. A rustling sound beside her caused her to turn her head to see her shadow mimicking her. “Hey, Aryana.”

The girl smiled as she lifted both hands to the sky.

Paisley leaned down and pressed her palms to the ground.

Aryana made it all the way to her knees. “Oof. How do you do that?”

“Practice.” Paisley leaned to one side then the other.

The girl tried to copy her moves. She’d been half a step behind Paisley all day in an unsettling form of hero worship.

It was strange, something Paisley hadn’t experienced before. Back at the guest ranch, the kids were busy with other activities, too, plus they had their families. Mind you, Aryana’s family had come along on the ride.

Last night — even first thing this morning when Harvey assumed Paisley would fix his tea — she hadn’t been all that sure the Littles would pull their own not inconsiderable weight. Who would have guessed that Harvey was an avid and experienced fly-fisherman who enjoyed coaching interested kids? Between the four adults, they’d kept their charges busy all day.

Now the mood was more subdued as everyone gathered around the campfire and waited for the dinner call. Aryana’s twin, Axel, could barely stop yawning. These kids would fall asleep much more quickly tonight with less complaining about rocks and roots intruding into their spaces. Even Elsa had quit whining about the latrine.

“Is the fire ready?” Susanna called.

Weston gave her a thumbs-up, gathered a stack of willow branches he and some of the tweens had cut earlier, and carried them to the makeshift kitchen.

The kids surged toward the makeshift kitchen to stab the sticks through wieners.

Paisley stood nearby helping those who needed it. “You go ahead,” she said to Susanna.

The older woman shook her head. “You’ve been on your feet all day. You first.”

“We’ve all been on our feet.” But Paisley wasn’t going to waste time arguing. Looked like buns and condiments and vegetables and chips were laid out for the kids as their hot dogs roasted.

She handed a stick to Susanna and pierced a wiener with the last one. “I’m hungry enough to eat three of these.”

Susanna grimaced. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a hot dog.”

“They’re definitely better after a day in the mountains than any other time.”

“I hope you’re right.” Susanna followed her to the fire. “I’m hungry enough to eat nearly anything.”

Even a hot dog.

Paisley tried to force the smile off her face at Susanna’s unfinished sentence.

“What’s so funny?” Weston’s low voice came from beside her.

She startled. “Everything and nothing. Hey, you haven’t eaten yet. Take this.” She tried to push the willow stick into his hands.

Weston shook his head. “You go first. A few more sticks will be available in a minute.”

Who knew the cowboy could be so gentlemanly? Though Paisley should have expected it, knowing his mom. Nadine Kline was pleasant and polite. At least Weston had absorbed one of those qualities.

Now he stood by the roll-up table and helped Axel with the mustard.

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