Page 31 of Wylder Ranch
“Ha, yes. Remember when we tried to see whose name she would say first?”
I laugh, trying to remember back that far, and how we would constantly repeat our name to her. In the end, her first word sounded a lot like Squirrel, the name of my dad’s old Jack Russell.
“That dog was such a little shit.” Lando chortles with a memory, no doubt of Squirrel chewing something he shouldn’t have been.
Everly stirs at our laughing, and I gently jostle around until her face relaxes again. “Wonder how long it’ll take for Mum to start on you again.”
“Holiday and I have only just gotten back together,” he grumbles.
“So. . . a week?” Hendricks snorts.
It’s no secret our mother has been desperate for Lando to produce an heir to Burlington since he was old enough to drive. After a failed relationship and a series of dates she had set up that Lando refused to go on, she upped the ante by renting out his old cottage to a Hollywood actress. Fortunately for everyone, her plan worked.
Wedding bells aren’t ringing yet, but they’re close. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Lando as happy as he is now, and I’ve had to work hard to keep my jealousy at bay. Because as great as it is to see, it’s just been a daily reminder of how far away I am from where he is.
“Probably. Still, I wouldn’t mind a couple with Holiday.” He smiles, taking a deep breath as his mind drifts momentarily to a place I don’t want to ask about before he shakes it away. “Anyway, where’s Haven?”
“She went to check out of the bed and breakfast. She’ll be back here soon.”
At the sound of a cat squawking, the three of us turnto find Blackberry jumping out of Max’s arms while he sprints over to where we’re standing on the front porch. His jeans are wet with patches of mud from where he’s been kneeling on the ground, and the bucket swings wildly in his hands, though not enough for the contents to spill over the side, thank God.
I don’t want a pile of snails on my lawn.
“May I see my cousin again?” he asks, grinding to a halt at our feet.
His round face is pink from the cold air and beaming with excitement.
“Of course.” I crouch down closer to his height, turning a sleeping Everly toward him.
“Hmm.” He peers over her, slowly scanning down her tiny blanket-wrapped body, like he’s double-checking she is, in fact, still definitely a girl. According to Hendricks, he has been asking about it on an almost hourly basis since Miles mentioned it the other day. “When can I play with her?”
“When she’s on solid foods, buddy.”
He holds up his bucket with so much enthusiasm it only narrowly misses her head. “Do you think she’ll like my snails?”
“Absolutely, she will.”
He nods slowly, and his lips twist side to side while he ponders. “I guess I can show her how to find them.”
“It’s a valuable skill,” I reply. “Are you going to take them home to show Granny?”
Max shakes his head, this time forcing the edges of his mouth to droop down dramatically—something I’ve seen Miles teach him. “Granny doesn’t like snails. They eat her roses. And Uncle Lando won’t let me bring themin the house.”
“Quite right. Snails are for outside,” Lando replies with mock sternness. Then he adds, “Slugs too,” in case Max gets any ideas. Because Max will find a loophole in any rule.
He responds with a devilish giggle, his cousin forgotten, and swings the bucket toward Lando, who runs off slow enough for Max and the snails to chase him, narrowly avoiding a couple of the delivery guys walking down the path.
They’re followed by James.
“My Lord, everything is complete, if you want to check it over. We only have the Hamley’s delivery, which is due within the hour.”
“Hamley’s?” Hendricks snorts.
“What? I bought Everly a panda bear. I thought she’d like it.” I’m getting annoyed with Hendricks and his judgmental looks. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
He flicks his wrist around and checks his watch. “We do. Max has a swimming lesson. Max, buddy, we need to go,” he calls over to where Max is still chasing Lando with his snail bucket.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Lando puffs out his cheeks. “I was about to collapse.”
