Page 3 of Mad About Her Cowboys

“Your gut.”

Connor’s gut feelings were legendary in the family. After all these years, none of the other three questioned it—though their foster parents, who loved them dearly, hadn’t been keen on it. Still, they knew Connor’s “feelings” were rarely wrong, too. He didn’t know everything—he’d be the first to admit that—but when he got that indescribable yanking inside of him, he knew. When it happened, he sat up and paid attention.

“Anyway, since there was no spots for my truck near Leena’s, I had to park over by the Farm and Feed. I was on my way to meet up with you guys when she got here and River took her inside.”

“Are you going to wait out here until she comes out?”

He shook his head. “No. We’ll see her later this week, and then she’ll know she’s ours.”

Franklin laughed as if to say “yeah right.” He slung his arm around Connor’s shoulders and pulled him toward the diner. “Well, Mr. Psychic, I hope it’s that easy. C’mon, I’m starving.”

“Do you feel okay? Does your blood sugar feel off?”

“Calm down. It’s normal hunger,” Franklin grumbled. But Connor couldn’t help but worry.

Franklin was the reason they’d be at the doc this week. His Type-1 diabetes was what had landed him in foster care. His loser family couldn’t deal with the disease and had abandoned him to the state when he was eight. Eight fucking years old, and he’d been abandoned by his family who was supposed to love him and care for him always.

Connor had been willing to cut them a tiny bit of slack when he’d thought they couldn’t afford their child’s care and medication; then he’d found out they were one of the wealthiest families in the state. Dealing with the sickness had just been a hassle to them. It had really messed up Franklin, and Connor had vowed to never abandon him. They were truly brothers of the heart, if not by blood.

Hell, to tell the truth, all four of them were all messed up. He’d never known his father, and his mother had flitted in and out of his life while his grandmother had raised him. When she’d died unexpectedly, also when he was eight, he’d ended up in foster care, too. He had no idea what had happened to his mother. With her drug issues, it was very possible she’d died sometime in the past twenty years.

Neal and Edison were both ten when they ended up in the system, Neal had been orphaned, and Edison was there because of criminal neglect. With the starvation, lack of basic care and being left to fend for himself more often than not, it was a miracle he’d made it to ten before being removed from that home.

Eventually, they’d landed with the Quists and become a family. They’d probably needed that extra adult in the household to deal with two ten-year-olds and two twelve-year-olds dropping on them at once. It had been a crazy, wonderful time, and though not blood-related, they really were a unit.

Falling in step with Franklin, Connor followed him to Leena’s where Neal and Edison were holding a booth.

“About time,” Edison grumbled, ribbing him. “Get lost?”

“He was mooning over a girl,” Franklin reported. “Good thing I went to get him. He’d still be there, and we’d be starving!”

“Hey, gentlemen,” a voice said from the end of the table, and they found Dev from the Bowen Bar standing there. Dev helped out during dinner hours since the businesses were connected and shared the same owners. “What can I bring you to drink? And if you know what you want to order, now would be good.” Dev glanced around as if to say it’s crazy in here. Better order now, or it’ll be quite the wait.

As always, Connor was struck by the boy’s features, which leaned toward the feminine. So of the cowboys around here were bisexual, he knew Dev would have no problem with companionship if he leaned that way. None of the Quists did, but none of them had a problem with that, either.

He glanced at Franklin. “Know what you want?”

Of the four of them, they needed to worry most about him.

“Yeah, same as always.”

Connor turned his look to the other two. They both nodded, so he looked back to Dev. “I guess so. Let them order first, and I’ll figure it out real quick.”

Minutes later, Dev was on his way to the kitchen and the brothers were alone—well, as alone as possible in an overcrowded restaurant.

“How were your classes today?” he asked the younger two. In the morning, they all worked together, but in the afternoon, Edison and Neal were taking online courses in preparation for college next semester. At twenty-six, they were late entries—returning students, Connor supposed they were called—and they wanted to stay ahead of the ball.

“Normal,” Edison said. “I hated the English class and loved marketing. Neal, of course, loooooooooved his English lectures.”

Connor laughed. Edison was taking a 101 prereq English class that would count toward a writing credit, while Neal was taking any English and History course he could fit in. They were best friends with entirely different interests. Connor envied them their schooling and the campus life they were about to enjoy in a few months, but he wouldn’t trade his place in Daly for anything. Franklin claimed the same, though he could easily take advantage of opportunities outside of here if he wanted.

“Don’t love it enough to write your paper for you,” Neal retorted. “Better get to work on it tonight.”

Edison made a face then turned his gaze to Connor. “How did the training go with the horses?”

“Could have gone better…”

“You train horses?” Dev asked as he returned with their drinks.

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