Page 12 of The Bull Rider & the Wedding Planner

“I get to sleep with Mama,” Presley cheered.

“Lucky,” he muttered.

Cassie shot him an incredulous look.

“Am I cappin’?” he asked, knowing he was wrong to tease about sleeping with her. He would never sleep with a woman unless he was married to her.

“Easton, please.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what capping means.”

He smiled. “Lying. It’s not a lie that if we were married …” He pumped his eyebrows.

Cassie’s eyes widened.

Presley looked at him. “You marry my mama?”

“You two stop,” Cassie commanded before he could respond that he’d happily marry her mama.

Then it hit him like Walker’s fists when they sparred. He’d never slept with a woman, never been married, but she’d slept with a man. Her husband. Presley’s father. His stomach turned over and he was suddenly afraid he’d spew.

He strode around the bed to cover his reaction and laid Presley down. She looked so teeny in the big bed. He smiled at her and pulled the sheet and soft quilt over her small frame.

“Prayers and songs, please,” she requested, beaming up at him.

He looked to Cassie. She nodded, her face much softer now. She kneeled next to the bed and glanced up at him. His heart missed a beat. Could this happen? Him and Cassie? Adjusting to the fact she had a daughter was no stress for him. He was falling for Presley, in a different way than he’d fallen for her mother but just as hard.

Could he forgive Cassie for cheating on him and completely moving on? He thought he could. He kneeled next to her on the hard floor. Presley pushed out of the covers, kneeled on the bed, and extended a hand to each of them. Easton wrapped his hand around her tiny fingers, marveling at how small they felt in his.

“Mama. Easton. You have to hold.” Presley looked to where they weren’t completing the circle.

Easton lifted his hand and offered it to Cassie. She looked at his hand and then at his face and then at his hand.

“It doesn’t hurt, Mama,” Presley said.

Cassie forced a smile and then settled her palm against his. Easton should’ve exercised some restraint—she hadn’t wanted to even hold his hand—but he wrapped his fingers around her smaller hand, marveling at how perfect it felt within his.

“I pray.” Presley launched into a prayer blessing some people he didn’t know and some he did. It was heart-warming when she blessed him. She blessed they could sleep without ‘mean dad’ finding them. Easton’s heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest as Cassie stiffened beside him. Was her ex-husband grumpy, or even abusive? Was that why she’d finally come home? Were the weddings just an excuse?

The little girl said amen and they echoed it. Cassie quickly pulled her hand free.

Presley reached out and touched the scarson Easton’s forehead. “What happened to your face? I thought cowboy princes were perfect.”

Easton felt the sting. He used to be perfect. Did Cassie think he was less than ideal because of the scars? He hated them but always covered the humiliation with cockiness.

“Presley,” Cassie scolded.

“It’s all right, Princess Presley. I was burned protecting a famous person.” He pushed out his chest. “I’m no cap brilliant like that.”

“You are still my perfect prince,” Presley declared.

“Don’t I know it.” He winked, feeling warm all over at Presley’s words.

Sadly, only Presley laughed at his posturing.

Cassie stood and he followed suit. She tucked Presley back into bed and turned off the light. The room was only lit by the light out in the main area. Questions surged through him, but it was peaceful and intimate in this bedroom with Cassie and her adorable daughter.

“Sing,” Presley demanded.

“Please,” Cassie reminded her.

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