Page 51 of Cowboy Bear's Hope

“That is your home, Honey. Yours, mine, and Rosie’s,” Dante said, his big hands cupping my face. “Got it?”

“Got it,” I whispered, needing to hear that from him.

“Good. Let’s go. You ready, Rosie Posie?”

“I’m ready,” Rosie said as Mrs. O’Hare walked back inside with her and a wrapped plate with cookies.

“Good evening, Dante,” the older woman said and nodded her head at me.

“Mrs. O’Hare,” he said and dipped his chin.

She’d always been kind to me and Avery, and I appreciated her not saying anything now about the argument I’d had with Penny.

“Look! I made cookies, Danny,” Rosie interrupted stated matter-of-factly.

“They smell great,” he said.

Dante took the plate from Rosie with one hand, keeping the other on the small of my back as he ushered the two of us outside to his truck.

It was still warm inside, thank goodness. The icy wind bit through my jacket and the temperatures were dropping. Rosie didn’t seem to mind, but that was normal.

She prattled on and on about her baking adventure with Mrs. O’Hare, which made me feel guilty for not paying attention. But it did give me a slight reprieve from having to speak.

My heart was hurting and for the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I felt bereft.

Penny had always been my lifeline.

My person.

In a totally platonic way, of course. But maybe I’d been wrong to think of her as family.

I mean, my own didn’t want me. Maybe it was dumb to expect someone who wasn’t related to me to really care.

Shit. I hated this. Hated feeling like I was less than.

But sometimes emotions needed to run their course.

Sometimes sadness needed to be felt.

I just wasn’t expecting now to be one of those times.

How could she think that about me? How could she?

Chapter Fourteen-Dante

“These cookies are the perfect dessert, Rosie Posie,” I said to the nonstop chatterbox.

“Really, Danny! Yay! I wanna be a baker like Aunt Penny when I grow up,” She said, and handed me another cookie before running off to watch the cartoon movie I set up for her in the living room after we both built a blanket and pillow fort.

Avery insisted on cooking dinner. And she managed a pretty damn amazing Fettuccini Alfredo with grilled pork chops and sauteed zucchini on the side.

If I wasn’t already in love with her, that meal alone would’ve done it.

I popped the cookie in my mouth and walked over to where she was loading the dishwasher. Reaching out for her, cause I just couldn’t seem to help it, I placed my hands firmly on her hips and pulled her to me, nuzzling her neck with my lips and nose.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Sweet like honey and spicy like habaneros. I could just swallow you whole, mate,” I murmured.

She sighed and leaned back into me and the sadness that had been hanging around her like a shroud lifted ever so slightly.

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