Page 54 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

“Isn’t tomorrow a school day? Don’t you have homework? Why are you hanging out around here?” Since when do kids go outside and do stuff instead of staying inside, playing video games?

“You want me to leave?” He side-eyed me.

“Nope, you can stay.”

“I don’t have homework, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do it, because school is stupid, and I don’t understand why I have to go.” Petulant, he grabbed up fistful of hay and tossed it to the ground.

“Wow, it’s a little soon to be saying that. You’re... what, first grade?” Had he not been pint-sized and young, he could have easily been mistaken for a rancher or ranch hand.

“Second, and it sucks. Everyone there is an asshole.”

“Whoa, are you allowed to say asshole?” He’d definitely picked up the ranch language.

“Who’s gonna stop me? My dad’s not here.” He looked away, his eyes shiny with moisture.

“I think Mrs. Claudia would not like to hear any bad words out of your mouth.” What do I say to a kid whose dad needs to take a break from life a couple times a year without thought for his kid?

“Yeah, she would be ticked.”

“And then she’d probably stop making all those good desserts.” Mrs. Claudia was an exceptional cook and an out-of-this-world baker.

“Those are for you all.” He eyed me warily.

“Nope, all for you. She won’t let any of us touch them until you’ve had yours. She used to do the same for me when I was a kid. She does it because she wants to see you smile.” I hadn’t realized it then, but what Mrs. Claudia had done for me as a kid had only added to the magic that was this ranch, all an effort to make up for the one thing we wished we had: a loving father.

Rod smiled, his ears a little pink with embarrassed happiness.

“If she asks you if you have any favorites, tell her you want to try a Boston cream pie.” That was my favorite.

His face scrunched up with uncertainty. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the best. Vanilla cake with crème in between and chocolate on top.” I licked my lips. “Crème is like pudding,” I clarified in response to his curled lip.

“I thought you said it was a pie.”

“Yeah, those Northerners name things weird, but trust me on this. It’s good.”

He eyed me suspiciously, then gave a nod. “You like Ms. Sabrina, dontcha?”

“I’ve known her a long time. She’s a very good person.”

Rod rolled his eyes. “Not like that, dumb-dumb. You like her the way Bobby Weyman likes Abigail Fetter. Only he’s always trying to look up her dress.”

I choked on a laugh. “Well, I think Sabrina would punch me if I tried to look up her dress, which is a pretty uncool thing to do, by the way—look up a girl’s dress.”

“She punches him, too, but he doesn’t stop. It’s really annoying.” His stomach rumbled.

My watch told me dinner was soon. “Maybe tell a teacher.” I didn’t like that this Bobby kid was getting away with that kind of behavior. Respect and consent needed to be taught and modeled early.

“They tell us that we shouldn’t tattle.”

I stared at Rod and wondered how it was that kids grew up knowing anything when the message was mixed all the live long day.

“Maybe I’ll ask the principal if I can do a presentation for the school and get the message across to this kid and any others like him.” As I said it, I knew this was a good idea. I pulled out my phone and texted Paul to set it up.

“Seriously?” He sat up.

I showed him my phone. “Yeah, I just told my guy to work on it.”

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