Page 11 of Marrying the Billboard Cowboy

“Never a dull moment,” Kaitlyn admitted, hoping the tightness in her throat wasn’t audible.

“I better get back to work,” Bella said.

“Bella’s dad owns the place,” Zeke explained as she walked away, clearing plates from a nearby table.

The waitress approached, balancing a tray laden with food, steam wafting from the pancakes like morning fog lifting from the earth.

“Here we are,” the waitress announced, setting down a plate piled high with fluffy pancakes in front of Stetson, followed by Kaitlyn’s protein-laden plate and Zeke’s biscuits swimming in gravy.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Zeke said, eyeing the generous helpings of bacon and eggs alongside the toast she’d originally wanted. “You need more than bread.”

Kaitlyn opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure whether to feel grateful or stubborn. But the growl of her stomach betrayed her pride, and she simply nodded.

Kaitlyn worked on her bacon, tearing it into smaller, manageable pieces.

They all ate, and Kaitlyn kept her focus on the plate before her, allowing each bite to be a reminder that kindness still existed, even in the most unexpected places.

When her plate was almost empty and her stomach fuller than it had been in months, Zeke slid a couple of sausage links onto her plate, nudging them toward her with his fork. Kaitlyn glanced up. “Thanks,” she said softly, the word feeling inadequate as it often did these days.

“Of course,” Zeke replied, his tone gruff but not unkind.

Stetson’s giggles drifted across the table, a welcome melody in the bustling diner as he chased a last bite of pancake through a pool of syrup. Kaitlyn’s gaze shifted from her son to Zeke. With each stolen glance, Zeke’s broad shoulders and the way his dark hair curled just so at the collar of his shirt pulled at her. Her heart thrummed harder, an unwanted rhythm that echoed her swirling thoughts.

“Big plans for the holiday season?”

“Nothing too extraordinary,” Zeke said. “Just family, food, and fellowship. Redemption likes to go pretty big for the holiday, so there’ll be a lot of community stuff going on.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kaitlyn murmured, almost to herself, as she admired the way Zeke’s stubble framed his strong jawline.

Kaitlyn realized the plate before her was clean, save for a few crumbs. She hadn’t noticed finishing it, her attention divided between her son and the man across from her.

Zeke caught the waitress’s eye and handed over a credit card without a second glance. His eyes were entirely fixed on her.

“Thank you,” Kaitlyn found herself saying again as the waitress walked away. Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the storm of gratitude and doubt that raged inside her. “For the meal... and everything.”

Zeke turned his gaze to her, a flicker of something softening the usual reserve in his eyes. “You’re welcome, Kaitlyn. It’s no trouble at all.”

She wanted to believe him, to lean into the safety his presence suggested, but the shadows of past disappointments whispered caution.

Zeke pushed back his chair and stood, towering over the table with a sense of purpose that had Kaitlyn’s heart skittering. His eyes—dark, like winter storm clouds rolling over the mountains—met hers, and there it was: a flicker of vulnerability, quick as a lightning strike, that rendered her breathless.

“Let’s get going,” he said, voice edged with a gruffness that couldn’t quite hide the concern lacing each word.

Outside, the crisp mountain air carried the scent of pine and the promise of snow. Zeke led them to a huge black truck, its frame dusted and flecked with dried mud. He opened the passenger door for Kaitlyn, then circled around the back to help Stetson climb into the cab.

“Got a booster seat for him?” Zeke frowned slightly as he glanced inside the spacious interior, his gaze searching for the safety device that wasn’t there.

Kaitlyn hesitated, her fingers tightening on the cold metal of the truck door. “No, but it’s fine. We’re not far, right?” She hated the thought of causing any inconvenience, yet the weight of his protective stare compelled her to honesty.

“Far enough.” Zeke’s decision was resolute, the words spoken with the certainty of a man unwilling to bend certain rules. “We’ll stop and pick one up. Can’t have little man riding without one.”

Before she could protest, he closed the door gently, yet firmly, and strode off toward the driver’s side. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken battle he’d won.

Kaitlyn sank into the supple leather seat, warmth from the heater already wrapping around her, chasing away the chill. The faint scent of the air freshener mingled with a hint of leather and something undefinably masculine. She watched as Zeke settled behind the wheel, his movements sure and steady, much like the man himself.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure if the words reached him over the hum of the engine. But maybe they didn’t need to. Her gratitude was in every glance she cast his way, every line of tension easing from her shoulders under his quiet care.

“Mommy, is Mr. Zeke mad?” Stetson’s small voice whispered up from the backseat, his brow furrowing in concern.

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