Page 27 of Tate
He closed the fridge and set the OJ on the counter. “Sheesh, Ma, you should work for the CIA.”
“Thanks, but we already have one person in this family in the spy business.”
Oh, so Ruby Jane had told her about her so-called analyst position. Well, he supposed that was better than continuing the “travel agent” lie.
His mother wore her curly brown hair up in a ponytail and looked about twenty-three in her oversized jean shirt and a pair of leggings. She’d clearly been painting, watercolor staining her hands. She set her own cup of coffee on the granite countertop. “Can’t sleep?”
He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and opened the lid to the juice. “Why?”
“You haven’t been up this early since…well…let’s just say we had to drag you out of bed to do chores.”
He poured the juice. “No. No one woke me up. I’d get up and Dad would have taken off with Knox and Reuben and left me behind.” He capped the juice, then replaced it in the fridge. “He already had his mini-ranchers. He didn’t need me.”
He didn’t mean for the words to come out as a pity party. Maybe he was just in that place, frustrated, edgy, and dark. But frankly, the ranching gene had skipped over Tate—and maybe Wyatt too, and settled on Ford.
Although Ford hadn’t exactly stuck around, had he?
“That’s not true, Tate. He just knew how much you hated horses.”
Hated might have been a tame word.
“Horses hatedme.I have the scars to prove it.”
She shook her head. “I should have never let your father put you on a horse when you were that young.”
“Reuben started riding alone when he was five. I was six. I wasn’t too young.” No, he was just a coward. And horses could smell fear. Especially on a child who panicked.
“Listen, Ma, it’s no big deal. But I got up plenty early when I was in the military.”
Her mouth tightened into a grim line and oh yeah, she didn’t like to talk about his years in the service. Or the months afterward when he’d returned home broken.
“Knox is already up and outside, getting ready to ride fence.”
Of course he was. Because that was Knox. A. True. Cowboy.
Tate just looked like one.
“He’d probably like some company.”
“I’m going to go pack, Ma. I gotta get to Nashville and back to work.”
He might as well have said he was going to reenlist for the dismay that crested her face.
“You knew I wasn’t sticking around.”
“Reuben and Gilly get married in two weeks. You can’t stay?”
“I’ll come back for the weekend. I promise.”
He took a drink of his OJ as his mother went to the counter and took the lid off a plate of freshly made muffins. She grabbeda napkin and loaded it with one of her gourmet apple cinnamon muffins.
“What’s this, a bribe?”
“If it works.” She winked.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Always.”
She caught his neck and pulled him close, just for a moment. “Take care of yourself, tough guy. No more fights. You’re scaring your mother.”
