Chapter Thirty-One #2
Lane’s bright smile held sadness as he came forward and offered his hand to Ivo.
“So lovely to meet you. I don’t suppose you know where they’re hiding the cake, do you?
Last time I was visiting, I couldn’t find any.
I mean, that’s such a disgrace, no cake in the cupboards. Do I have to make my own?”
Monty could see what Lane was doing, and it reinforced just how amazing this man was. “I made a batch of brownies over the weekend, and I left some in the kitchen.”
A smile appeared as Ivo glanced at Monty. “Are they the ones with cherries in?”
He giggled at the enthusiasm. “Of course. I added some mashed banana too.”
“Really,” Lane questioned, coming to slip an arm through Monty’s, joining the three of them. “Lead on, I must try them.” He glanced at his husband. “I’m sure Rue can entertain you for a while.”
Lane guided them out of the office and down the corridor into the kitchen effortlessly enough. Ivo wore a bemused look. As they entered, Lane’s gaze swept the countertops, a frown appearing.
“Where did you leave them, Monty?”
Monty gave Ivo a quick squeeze of reassurance, then headed over to the cupboard that was used for kitchen implements.
From what Monty had noticed, he was the only one who used them because everyone ate at the bunkhouse.
Pete and Orion were skilled cooks, and not having to think about what to make daily was great now Kendrick was back at work.
Not thinking about that. It was part of the reason he’d ended up baking while Rue watched a baseball game.
He understood Kendrick didn’t have the same kind of nine-to-five job as him and Rue.
When in Hazardville, it was somehow different.
Living with Kendrick didn’t mean he had to like it when he was out in the evening, so he’d occupied himself in the kitchen.
It was the first time Kendrick got to benefit, as usually he was the one cooking.
Not that Monty hadn’t been baking. He had, just up at the ranch for the omegas.
Something that Rue had encouraged. The kitchen here was well stocked, so the cowboys had benefitted from his culinary skills too.
“I hide them in here. You have to if you don’t want the cowboys sneaking in and eating them all.”
“Monty, your brownies are exceptional, so you can’t blame them,” Lane enthused, the warm smile allaying some of Monty’s doubts that Lane might consider Monty wasn’t right for his son. Lane and Monty had always had a great working relationship, but one never knew when it came to family.
Ivo’s giggle was pure magic. “They are. Just yesterday, Zippy and Cranny nearly came to blows over the last brownie from the batch you made last week.”
He said it so innocently, Monty’s head jerked in Ivo’s direction, knowing just how bad the two cowboys were with each other. What startled him was how calm Ivo was over it. “They did?”
He came to where Monty placed the tub on the counter, Lane coming with him. “Yeah… Oakland stepped in and ate the brownie, stopping the argument.”
“He did?” Lane asked, surprise filling his voice.
Monty offered the brownies to Ivo, who nodded in response, taking one out of the tub. “He said he doesn’t eat sweet things, but secretly I think he does, the way he devoured it. Monty, do you think you could teach me to make them?”
“Of course. Maybe you could teach me to sew?”
The clatter of boots alerted to someone coming. Otis arrived first, pursued by the others. None of them looked at Lane as they zeroed in on the tub Monty held. It was extremely flattering.
“Brownies. I knew I could smell them.” Otis was across the room so fast that if Monty had blinked, he would have missed it. He reached into the tub and snatched out a brownie, giving Monty a solid whack to his heart at the joy written on his face when it went straight to his mouth.
“Is this why you didn’t come outside where we were waiting?” Eric questioned, elbowing past Ivo to get to the tub, holding a large brown sack in one hand.
It was all so normal, Monty got an ache at the back of his eyes with the urge to cry. He was helping; it made all the difference after leaving these men in purgatory.
Monty sniffed twice, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze in case they noticed his eyes were sheened with tears.
Lane dashed a hand over his own eyes before reaching to nab a brownie. “I better grab one before they all disappear,” Lane said gaily, not looking directly at anyone but somehow including all the men, who then appeared to notice him.
They were getting much better at being in places with strangers—just not alpha strangers.
“This is Lane Starling, Rue’s Popi. His dad is in the office with him,” he advised softly, so no one else got a shock if Derick appeared.
“This is Eric, Otis and Cace.” Monty did the introductions despite knowing Lane knew the names.
It helped him stop thinking about whatever conversation was happening between father and son while he was out of the room.
Categorically not thinking about that.
“Hi,” Otis mumbled around a mouthful of brownie.
“Hi.” Lane glanced at Eric. “Why were you waiting outside? Is it something to do with the bag you’re holding, Eric?”
“We were off to see Cass—”
“Have you got what you made in the sack?” Monty interrupted Eric, forgetting himself in his excitement, dropping the tub to come around the counter, keen to see what Eric had made.
He pulled the sack to his chest, pouting, which was hard when he was still chewing on the brownie. “I want to show Lynda first.”
“Lynda?” Lane questioned, looking between the two men. “Is there a Lynda working at the ranch?”
Monty bit the inside of his cheek to hold off laughing at Lane, who looked bewildered. There were only men employed on the ranch, so Monty got it.
“Of course,” Eric stated. “She’s a La Fleche chicken.” The way he spoke, it was like it made total sense to him.
Lane nodded, a twinkle coming to light in his eyes. “I see. What are we showing Lynda?”
Eric blushed to the roots of his hair. “I made her and some of the other chics outfits, like the ones Cass makes for his girls.”
Monty saw the second the penny dropped as Lane’s smile widened. “Cass is a treasure the way he looks after his girls. I bet he’s super pleased with the offer.”
Eric eyed Lane with suspicion, but he must have decided a second later that Lane was being genuine as he offered a timid smile.
“He is, and he’s letting me dress some of his girls.
Lynda might not let me, but he said she likes me,”—his rail thin shoulders moved up jerkily—“so maybe she’ll allow it. ”
It was heartbreaking how hopeful he sounded. Monty prayed to whatever chicken god there was that Lynda played ball and allowed Eric to dress her.
Monty really wanted to see what was in the sack and for Lane to witness first hand what his sons had done for these men. “Shall we head over there now?”
The eagerness didn’t miss any of the men who all giggled, including Lane.
“We can,” Eric answered before shoving the last of the brownie in his mouth, then dusting off the crumbs on his fingers down the leg of his jeans, heading towards the door eagerly.
Monty was right behind him, and could hear the others following.
They weren’t as skittish about walking around when men were busy dealing with horses and other general tasks, and he grinned at Lane, who beamed back.
They made it to the fenced off area where the coups were, the sound of clucking and squawking growing louder at the sight of Eric. Lynda was the fastest to reach the closed gate, as if she knew exactly what Eric was there for.
A grinning Cassidy came right behind her. “Eric, what you got there that has my girls flapping their skirts?”
Monty noticed Cassidy was way more careful with his footing now that his belly protruded out enough that he couldn’t see his boots.
Eric grinned so big it transformed his face. The gauntness was much less obvious, as was the pain in his eyes. “I have some outfits for my—your girls,” he quickly corrected.
“I’d say the way Lynda’s behavin’, she’s your girl now,” he said affably.
“Cass, oh my gosh, no one told me you were pregnant!” Lane exclaimed, greeting the man like a long-lost friend, going in for a hug when Cassidy opened the gate to come out.
“I’ve got a mate now.” Cassidy beamed. “Trey made an honest man of me.”
Ivo nudged Otis and whispered, “What’s he mean?”
Otis shook his head. “Heck if I know.”
“Eric, are you gonna put me out of my misery?” Monty asked without thought.
He froze at his own stupidity, about to apologize when Eric did a ta-da move, opening the bag and pulling out some tiny dresses.
Monty’s mouth fell open, as did Cassidy’s.
“Oh my,” Lane said in awe. “They’re gorgeous.”
They were. The hand stitched dresses came in rainbow colors.
Some had pretty frills. Others had scalloped edges with hand-painted designs on the silk.
There were so many different ones, Monty didn’t know where to look first. The intricate detail and tiny, precision stitching, fuck Monty couldn’t even dream of achieving that in any lifetime.
“Eric… they are precious.”
Cassidy released a choked sob, drawing everyone’s attention. “Don’t mind me, it’s pregnancy hormones. Though I gotta say, Eric, you got skills, man. I can only dream of ever making something so fancy.”
“I helped with the painting,” murmured Cace, looking abashed when it appeared he hadn’t wanted to be left out, but didn’t then want everyone staring at him by how he fidgeted and looked at the ground.
Eric’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “He did, he’s the one with talent. Look here, these are all the chics. See? He drew them first on paper, then painted them on the silk with the special paints and brushes Brier bought for him.”
“Why, damn, it is.” Cassidy, who seemed to have gotten himself under control, gave Cace the brightest smile, tears shimmering in his eyes. “You guys are the best. Do you think, Cace, I could have the pictures of my girls? I’d like to put them on the walls of my new home.”
“You would?” whispered Cace, eyes so big they consumed his face.
“Heck, yeah.” Cassidy rubbed at his round belly. “The baby likes the idea too with how it’s kickin’ me.”
“Does it hurt?” Ivo was eyeing Cassidy’s belly as if trying to see the kicks.
Cassidy held out his hand to Ivo. “Wanna feel?”
There was an obvious hesitation before Ivo placed his hand in Cassidy’s, stepping closer as Cassidy pressed the palm of Ivo’s hand against the side of his belly.
His lips formed a perfect O as he stared at where his hand was. “That’s gotta hurt!” he exclaimed.
“A little when it hits me in a rib, but mainly it’s reassuring me they’re happy rolling around in there.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Ivo murmured thoughtfully.
Monty wondered if he was thinking about the omega that died giving birth to Emmy.
As if Lane had the same thought, he came closer to Eric. “Are we going to try the outfits on for size?”
“Please,” Monty added. “I’m so excited to see how they look.”
Eric handed out outfits, keeping one with the silk paintings on it in wild fuchsia. He sat right down in the dirt and patted his thigh, looking longingly at Lynda. “Wanna try the dress, Lynda?”
The chicken in question hopped straight up onto Eric’s lap and lifted its wings.
“She ain’t never done that to me.” Cassidy shook his head, sighing dramatically while grinning widely. “Traitor.”
Everyone laughed, including Eric, who lowered to kiss the top of Lynda’s head.
“Don’t listen to him, he doesn't mean it,” he said, getting more laughter as the others, including Lane, sat down in the dirt to dress the chickens.
Monty pulled out his phone and started videoing; he couldn’t wait to show his friends because this was the best day ever!