Page 25 of Reckless

As I brush out the mare, it settles in—how out of reach my dream of riding cutting horses competitively has become. I’ll never be able to do it again, at least not when the financial future of the ranch is so uncertain. And definitely not while I’m still figuring out how to be a singleparent.

What tears at my conscience is how much my father wanted me to get back in the arena, but I don’t see how I can make that happen with all of the responsibilities I’m dealing with rightnow.

With a grimace, I pinch the bridge of my nose.I can’t even drown my sorrows with a good bottle of whiskey’cause I have so much shit todo.

We wash down one more mare before Logan breaks the silence. “Sandra keeps asking aboutyou.”

I have no idea who he’s talking about, but he ignores my foul mood and keeps talking. “She’s that cute realtor we met at the Lone Star. The one who got divorced last year?” He sighs. “The one with theson?”

It takes me a minute but then I remember, mostly because I heard her ex was abusive, which pisses me off. I don’t understand how a man can hurt awoman.

Logan nods at me. “Want me to set you up? You’ve been a monk for too long, and this court date gives us the perfect reason to celebrate.” Using the words “celebrate” and “court date” in the same sentence make me cringe, but I know he’s pissed at Allison on my behalf. “Come on, bro. One beer. Maybe an appetizer. That’s it. Sandra’s a cutie, but if you’re not ready to ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ I’m sure you could keep itcasual.”

My brother, theromantic.

He nudges my arm, and I shrug him off. “Fine. One beer. Whatever it takes to get you to shutup.”

“Or even better, we could go to the coast for the weekend. Maybe when Allison is watching thekids.”

With everything I have to do around here, taking a weekend to act like I’m young and carefree is impractical. “How in the world would I pull thatoff?”

The words are barely out of my mouth when a little voice shouts, “Daddy! We brought youlunch!”

A huge smile lifts my lips before I’m done turning around. Standing in the open gate, with sunlight streaming behind them, are Mila, Cody, and Tori. Mila’s carrying a huge picnic basket, one my mother stores over the kitchen cabinets, while Tori bounces Cody on her hip andwaves.

It’s such a rare treat to see the kids back here that I instantly feel the sadness from a minute ago start tolift.

Tori hoists my son higher in her arms. “Sorry to bother you, but Mila wanted to make youlunch.”

“It’s no bother. I’ll never turn awayfood.”

I kneel down to Mila’s eye level, and she throws herself in my arms like she hasn’t seen me in a week. Worry fills my heart, and my eyes connect with Tori, who gives me a look ofunderstanding.

Her voice is soft. Comforting. “She’s having a good afternoon. She just missesyou.”

Rubbing Mila’s back, I realize how hard this must be for her. Having my mom leave and a new babysitter take over the very next second. I should’ve planned this better and overlapped themmore.

“Hey,” I whisper into my daughter’s hair. “You totally made myday.”

“Yeah?” When she pulls back, she wipes her eyes, but even though she’s emotional, she’ssmiling.

“Yup. I was having a crummy morning, but then my favorite people stoppedby.”

She looks up at Tori and leans toward me to whisper, “Tori made the food, but Ihelped.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” I say, watching how Tori averts her eyes when I look at her. “What’d yamake?”

Mila jumps up and down. “Sandwiches andsalad.”

I’ll be starving again in an hour, but this sweet delivery fills me up in other ways. “Sure was thoughtful of you.” I wait until Tori looks at me to say those words to my daughter, so Tori knows they’re meant for hertoo.

I tell my ranch hands to take a break and corral my brood into the corner stall that’s been outfitted into a small office with an extratable.

Tori hands Cody to me, and I kiss his chubby belly and make him laugh while the girls set out the food. And holy shit, my daughter’s simple description of the meal doesn’t do it justice. Because Tori didn’tjustmake sandwiches andsalad.

My mouth waters when I see the thick, succulent pieces of meat wedged between the lightly toasted slices ofbread.

“You made a roast? And homemade potato salad?” My mom left a roast to thaw in the fridge before she left, and I guess there must’ve been a sack of potatoes somewhere in thepantry.

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