Page 51 of The Rogue

Because she’s taking care of my kid—obviously. There’s no other reason to care.

None.

“We can have breakfast together, Curly.”

She takes a seat next to my kid. “Curly?”

“Yeah. You like it? Wiggles and Curly. Ranch Adventures.”

Tessa frowns. “Why not Curly and Wiggles?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Fine. Women.”

My lips are a tight thin line. I won’t be swayed by their blooming friendship.

“Be ready in an hour. I’ll come back and walk you two over.” I point to my kid with a stern look. And I know he reads me loud and clear. “No wandering off unless Roger is with you.”

They nod once, simultaneously, and I shake my head as I step out into the heat.

12

Jackson kicks at aloose rock, watching it tumble down the dusty path before looking up at me. His oversized cowboy hat, which keeps slipping over his eyes, adds a little extra swagger to his stance.

I tried to dress the part. Dark pair of denim shorts and an orange button-down tied at the waist. It's comfortable and weather-appropriate.

His grumpy dad left us sitting on a bench by the barn and told us to wait for Roger before heading to someplace called the Wrangler Room.

He was a little extra short with me this morning. Jaw tight, words clipped and barely looking at me for longer than three seconds.

My chest is still tight over what happened last night. Guilt will surely eat me alive.

After nearly losing mine, I put another life in danger. And then made him lie about it.

I need to figure out a way to undo the damage. I might not believe it myself, but the kid should probably feel like he’s safe with me. That I’d never do anything to hurt him.

Not intentionally.

“Are my boots okay?” I flip my foot backward like a ballerina, balancing on the other.

“They’ll work. They’re a little pretty, though. Hope it doesn’t rain. That’s how I ruined some of my shoes out here.”

I poke his little chest. “Then we’ll take them off and run for it.”

He laughs and I take the moment to explore with my eyes. Rolling hills stretch in every direction. I see cabins in the distance, mountains behind them, and another structure further away. I don’t mind a good hike every now and then, but how’s one to see it all on foot? “It’s... big.”

“Couple thousand acres,” Roger says, stepping out from the barn. He’s an elderly cowboy with heavily tanned skin. His frame is small, but those arms look strong enough to lift cattle. “Where y’all want to start?”

“Let’s show her the horses,” Jackson cheers.

Roger frowns like the kid’s lost his mind. “The stables are all the way on the other side. There’s plenty to see and do before that. You like apples, miss? Couple weeks we’ll be busy for apple picking season, but we’ve got a few tiny ones growing over by the orchard. Come on, I’ll show ya.” He starts walking, and Jackson and I shrug.

“I like tiny apples,” I say, not that it mattered. I take Jackson’s hand. “Do me a favor kid, steer me clear of any manure and sh—stuff.”

We don’t walk far before reaching the orchard, a sweet and flowery-scented land that’s fenced in. I hold my hand over my eyes, following them through the small gate. “Are these edible yet?” I stretch out my hands, rustling my fingers between small trees.

“Not those,” Roger says in front of me. “But these here are.” He stops in front of a fuller tree with several luscious apples hanging from their branches. Then pulls a mesh bag from the side of his belt.

Jackson doesn’t waste any time. He’s like a pro, picking off ripe apples and tossing them into the bag.

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