15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Parker
We’ve spent the last five hours putting the Mayson Ridge Ranch brand on more cattle than I can count. It’s a sunny seventy-five outside, and we’ve come to a stopping point to have a quick lunch.
“They aren’t letting you on any bulls anymore?” Clyde climbs down from a sorrel mare, his gray mustache twitching.
I hadn’t gotten a chance to run into him since I’ve been back. He’s been in San Antonio this week, visiting his daughter.
“They’d have to kill me first.” I shift my eyes to Trace, who’s trotting behind him on Tator Tot, his rope securely in hand.
“Glad you’re still kicking.” Clyde ties his horse to the fence. “Good to have you back.”
Clyde may be one of the oldest cowboys I know, but he’s got more grit in his pinky finger than half of the ones I’ve come into contact with in my line of work.
“It’s good to be back,” I admit.
Trace passes by me, a goofy smile on his snaggle-toothed face. I catch his reins, leading him over to a spot by the fence where he can dismount.
“You got him, Parker?” Maddox calls.
“Yeah, I got him,” I call back as I get Tator Tot settled.
“Be back in a sec. Gotta grab something in the cabin for Ivy.”
I wave him off before Trace hits the ground.
“My aunt Ivy has a baby in her belly.” He gives me a curious glance. “I heard her tell my momma that it was Uncle Mads’s fault.”
I shift my eyes around, searching for any kind of help with the topic. I’m not prepared to explain the reproductive process to a six-year-old.
“What does that mean?” He presses as he gives Tator Tot a proper pat.
“Not sure, bud. You’d have to ask him.” I shrug, aiming for ignorance.
“That means he’s going to be a daddy, right?” he asks.
We turn from the fence to head to the big house. “Yeah. He’ll be a dad and Ivy will be a mama. Like yours.”
He’s silent for a moment as we fall in step together.
Then he breaks my fucking heart.
“Uncle Mads won’t be like my daddy. Cause he loves me, so I know he will be a good daddy.”
“You bet he loves you. And there’s a whole crew of people who love you too. You know that, right?” I can barely choke out the words.
When we reach the edge of the grass, he stops, craning his neck to look up at me. “Do you love me, Parker?”
I crouch down to his level. “Of course I do. You’re the coolest cowboy I’ve ever met.”
His smile grows. “You mean it?”
“You calling me a fibber?” I scoff.
He cackles. “No.”
Bending down, I scoop him up and toss him over my shoulder as his fit of laughter continues. Only when I lift my gaze across the yard do I meet my favorite pair of magical blue eyes.
I’m sitting at a table alone, pretending not to watch Laiken as she serves lunch to the ranch hands from behind a makeshift buffet. A large body drops down in the chair next to me. Honestly, I’m surprised Ryder even took a break to eat.
“You just going to sit over here and stare at her all day?” he grumbles and scoops a fork of potato salad into his mouth.
“I don’t know. Are you ever going to get out of that cabin you’re holed up in all the time?” I quip.
“Fair,” he mutters before taking another bite. “You going to go for it?” he asks, motioning his utensil in her general direction.
I lift a brow. “Didn’t realize you were such a gossip, Ryder.”
He huffs a sharp laugh. “Just curious. She deserves someone good.”
I stiffen. “Why? You interested?”
He pauses his fork halfway to his mouth. “Fucking kidding me, right?”
“Fair question,” I fire back.
It is. I’ve been gone. Ryder is here. She’s close to his family and Laiken is gorgeous. He may be an asshole, but he’s not blind.
“Get that look off your face, Parker.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t want your girl. Been done with that kind of shit for a long time. You can relax.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Sorry, man.”
He shakes his head. “This is exactly why I stay holed up in that cabin you talk shit about. No woman, no trouble. Learned that the hard way.”
Part of me feels for Ryder. He went through some shit with Hadley, and I don’t blame him. Don’t blame him for handing out his trust sparingly.
“You playing poker tonight?” I ask, opting to change the subject. “Apparently, I’m hosting.”
He raises a plaid-covered shoulder. “Might play a few rounds. Steal Cooper’s money.”
I chuckle at that. Cooper is terrible at poker. His face gives him away every time.
I’m about to take the last bite of my brisket when movement at the side of the house catches my eye. I don’t wait; I move. I can tell by the look on her face that something is very wrong.