Page 92 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

I stood by a large bouncy house with Cori, drinking chamomile tea and watched the littles inside. There were three houses, one for older kids, one for kids three and younger, and one for the in-between kids. The in-between house looked likeFight Club, with all the kids bouncing around, their limbs out of control. Not one came out unscathed and without tears on their faces.

Cori’s attention bounced between the in-between house and the one with the littles. “You’d think after taking an elbow to the lip, Tabby wouldn’t go back in, but she did, and I’m worried it’s to throw some elbows of her own.” She chewed her lip.

I glanced over to where Fort was looking in the mesh window, pointing at a kid, and using his cop voice. I caught Rod by the arm as he dashed by with a giant elephant ear in his hand. “Hold up. How many of those have you had?”

We’d had the talk before coming into town. Just because all the food was free didn’t mean he had to eat all of it.

“One.” He focused on something over my shoulder, his tell. He was lying. His friends had stopped, too, and were all looking at the ground.

“Is that your final answer?”

He sighed. “All right, this is”—his eyes flicked to mine—“my third. But they’re really good, and I haven’t had any other dessert, and Cal said I could.”

“That’s because Cal’s not paying attention.” He was busy helping with the sleigh rides. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you have half if you give me the other half. And you have no more after this. You’re gonna get a stomachache.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You want the whole thing, dontcha?” He held it out. “You just don’t want to stand in line.”

Cori chuckled. “He’s got ya there.”

She adjusted her baby boy in the sling she was wearing. She and Fort procreated like bunnies. This one was only a few months old, and they were talking about another, not because they wanted one but because they knew that no matter what they did toward prevention, it would fail. Layla, now a bossy two-year-old, had been the result of a failed IUD. Baby Beau in the sling had been conceived while Cori was on the pill. Fort had been worried that if he got a vasectomy, they might have twins. Only Tabby, their oldest, had been planned, but all of them were wanted.

Rod waved the elephant ear. “If I give you this can, I have one all to myself?”

He drove a tough bargain. And the truth was, I did want the whole thing, and I didn’t want to stand in line.

“Deal.” I took the treat. “One more, and that’s it. Or at least try to fit in something like a turkey leg or a potpie in between, please.”

“I’ll try,” he said with an eye roll. After the handoff, he ran back toward the treat vendors.

“Your mom is cool,” one of the kids with him said as they ran off.

Rod gave me a look over his shoulder and a smile. The adoption had been final a year now. He was ours, and we were his, and we didn’t need names like Mom and Dad to make that official. But that didn’t mean I didn’t like it when people called me his mom.

I blew him a kiss. I loved that child with all my heart.

“Heads up. Here they come,” Cori said, and I turned to watch two little girls, holding hands, slide out of the littles’ bouncy house. They jumped up and ran to us—her Layla and our Simone, both fully embracing the terrible threes.

While Cal was doing a job in North Africa, he’d found Simone at an orphanage in a small village. He had taken one look at her and called to tell me he wanted to bring her home. There was no question that she was Daddy’s girl.

“Bite,” she said, looking up at me and the elephant ear, her hands wiggling in anticipation.

“Just one.” I held it out to her. She took the largest bite possible, this crafty girl of mine.

Fort walked over, holding Tabby’s hand. She had a scowl on her face.

“I hate these stupid bouncy things. Every year, I say we shouldn’t do them, and every year, we do. Next year, I’m saying no. They’re a liability. Jonah Shepard just bit someone, and I think the Billings kid might have broken his arm. Parents signed release forms, right?”

Cori patted his arm. “Of course. Everyone knows it’s play at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t done, but Dad made me get out,” Tabby said.

“You screamed in Jonah’s face. Those houses make kids monsters, and you are not exempt.”

“He jumped on my foot.” Her chestnut hair was sweaty and clung to her forehead. She looked so much like her mother.

“It’s packed like sardines in there. Everyone is jumping on everyone else,” Fort groaned.

“Jonah’s getting out anyway.” I pointed to the exit slide, where Jonah ran off toward his brother Nathan, Rod, and some other kids.

---