Chapter 5 #3
“Yeah.” His fingers brushed hers as she handed him the sugar bowl. The brief contact rippled through him.
Okay, sure. He could admit that the old desire had awoken inside him. But he wasn’t here to woo her back.
Yet.
Aw, shoot. He needed to delete that from any mission parameters. It would only complicate things. Rock him off his game.
“Morrie called. He’ll be a little late.” She flipped the bacon. “I need to bring Huck in for some rodeo training this morning. The Junior Buckaroos are having a practice today in prep for the rodeo next weekend.”
“And Huck is in it?”
“Yeah.”
He set down the mug and turned to face her fully, his hand gripping the counter edge. “I’d like to go. If that’s okay.”
Sierra’s eyebrows rose, her spatula freezing mid-flip. “You sure? It’s not exactly exciting. Just kids learning to rope.”
“I’m sure.” Rowan set down his coffee mug.
She narrowed her eyes a moment, then, “Okay.”
Okay. He sort of wanted to pump his fist with an Oorah. Except…“Although maybe I should stick around here. Make sure—”
“No one burns the house down?”
His mouth opened. “Um.”
“I was sort of kidding, although I guess that’s not funny.” She sighed. “Morrie will be here.”
Morrie. Yeah, the guy who wasn’t her husband.
He quelled another fist pump. “So, what’s Huck hoping to accomplish with the rodeo?”
“There’s a grand prize of five hundred dollars for the junior division winner. He wants to use it to buy a horse.” Sierra’s voice carried a mix of pride and worry. “Been saving every penny he can get his hands on, but a good horse costs more than a kid can earn doing chores.”
“He’s got his eye on a particular animal?”
“Raol Martinez has a quarter horse gelding. Gentle enough for a kid but smart. Good bloodlines.” She cracked eggs into the bacon grease, the whites sizzling and bubbling. “Huck’s crazy in love with the horse.”
“Sounds like he’s got good taste.”
“Gets that from his great-grandfather, I suppose. He loved horses.” She sighed and pain flickered across her features, quickly masked but unmistakable.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She glanced at him. Frowned. Then, “Oh. Yeah. Me too.” She stirred the eggs.
“Elway was a good man.”
“The best.” Sierra’s voice caught slightly. “I still expect to see him coming up the driveway for Sunday breakfast. Still make too much coffee because he always drank three cups.”
“I miss him too.”
The simple words seemed to unlock something in Sierra’s carefully controlled expression.
She turned away.
It was everything he could do not to cross the room, take her in his arms.
And stop.
“He would be proud of you, you know,” Rowan said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Proud of how you’ve kept this place running, how you’re raising Huck.”
“How can you know that?” She slid two eggs onto a plate beside several strips of bacon and handed them to him.
He took the plate to the table. “Because I knew him. Because anyone with eyes can see what you’ve accomplished here.”
Sierra considered him for a moment, then sighed. “Yeah, well, the inheritance he left barely covered the taxes on this place, and…” She leaned a hip against the counter. “I want Huck to grow up here.”
“I talked to…Alden yesterday.”
Her brow went up, and she reached for her coffee. “And no one was hospitalized?”
“Funny.”
But she smiled, and it just lit something inside him. Those eyes in his.
She so knew him, even now.
“I still can’t believe he got away with—”
He held up a hand. “It’s over. And I’m a grown man. But yeah, I can admit that for a moment…” He made a face. “Anyway, he said he offered to buy your place?”
She made a sound. “Yeah. As if I would ever sell my property to that man.”
He could kiss her, straight out, for that.
Instead, he dug into his eggs.
She cracked more eggs into the pan, and about then, Huck came downstairs. He wore pajama pants and a T-shirt, his hair sticking up in every direction.
Something about the way he smiled at his mom, walking over to steal a piece of bacon, just sort of jolted Rowan. Wow, he was a handsome kid.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sierra said, kissing him on the head. “You’re up early.”
“Smelled bacon.” Huck yawned and scratched his stomach. “Hey, Mr. R. You stayed.”
He’d suggested the name last night during their little bedtime routine. Now he saw Sierra’s mouth tweak up at it.
“Yep. I’ll be around…for a bit.”
Sierra glanced at him, but didn’t deny it. Another Oorah.
“Cool.” Huck slumped into a chair at the table. “You going to practice with me today?”
“Yep.”
Huck’s eyes brightened immediately. “Awesome. Mal said he’s been working on his backup loop all week. But I bet mine’s still better.”
“Confidence is good,” Rowan said. “But practice is better.”
“I practice every day. Well, except when it’s raining. Or when Mom makes me do homework first.”
“Homework always comes first,” Sierra said firmly, setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her son.
“I know. But sometimes I think about how much better I’d be if I could practice instead of doing math problems.”
“Math problems teach you to think logically. Problem-solving. That’s useful for roping too,” Rowan said.
Huck looked skeptical. “How?”
“Well, you’ve got a moving target, right? The calf is running, changing direction, trying to get away. You have to calculate speed, distance, timing. Figure out where the calf is going to be, not where it is right now.”
“Huh.” Huck chewed thoughtfully. “I never thought about it like that.”
“Plus, if you win that five hundred dollars, you’ll need to know how to manage money. Budget for feed, vet bills, equipment. Math becomes pretty important when you’re handling your own finances.”
“You think I can win?”
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to. But winning isn’t just about talent. It’s about preparation, practice, and staying calm under pressure.”
“Did you ever compete?”
“Some. When I was about your age.”
“Were you good?”
“Good enough.”
Sierra snorted softly. “He was regional champion three years running. Don’t let him be modest.”
“Really?” Huck’s eyes went wide. “That’s so cool.”
“How’s the cut feeling this morning?” Rowan asked.
“Not bad. Kind of itchy.”
“That means it’s healing. We’ll change the bandage after breakfast. Make it tight so it won’t get ripped when you rope.”
Sierra seemed to watch the easy interaction between them, her expression unreadable. Something flickered in her eyes—warmth, maybe, or pain. Or both.
“I should get in the shower,” she said abruptly.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen,” Rowan said.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
She nodded and headed for the stairs but paused at the doorway. “Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you came back.”
He stilled.
She smiled. Then she disappeared up the stairs, leaving him alone with Huck and a terrible heat inside him.
“She likes you,” Huck said matter-of-factly, scooping up the last of his eggs.
“What makes you say that?”
“She made you breakfast. She only makes breakfast for people she likes. Usually it’s just cereal for me on school days.”
“Maybe she was just being polite.”
“Plus, she’s singing again.”
“She was singing when I woke up.”
“She used to sing all the time when I was little. We’d turn on the radio and sing along. But she stopped a couple years ago. Now she only sings when she’s really happy or really sad.”
“Which one is this?”
Huck tilted his head, considering. “Happy, I think. She gets a line between her eyebrows when she’s sad. Right here.” He pointed to the spot between his own eyebrows. “She doesn’t have the line this morning.”
Smart kid. Observant. The kind of intelligence that would serve him well in life, whether he became a cowboy or something else entirely.
“Can I ask you something, Huck?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up? Besides a horse owner.”
“Rancher. Like Mom and my great-grandpa. Maybe firefighter too, like you. Help people when they’re in trouble.”
“Those are both good goals.”
“What did you want to be when you were my age?”
“Happy,” Rowan said without thinking.
The honesty of the answer surprised him. Wow. But yeah. Happy, and most of that had centered around Sierra.
Until life sort of exploded. But if he were honest…maybe that was what drove him back here.
Huck studied him. “Are you happy now?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Getting there.”
“Good. Mom deserves to be around happy people. She works too hard to have to deal with grumpy grown-ups all the time.”
“You have grumpy grown-ups around?”
“Sometimes Mom and Morrie argue.”
“You like Morrie?”
“He’s great. Teaches me to rope. And he gives me books.”
“What kind of books?”
“Adventure stories mostly. Stories about people who go on quests and save other people and have to be brave even when they’re scared.”
“Really.”
“He doesn’t have any kids. Says reading is good preparation for life.”
So maybe he didn’t hate this Morrie guy quite so much. “True,” Rowan said.
“Yeah. Plus, heroes always get the girl in the end.”
Rowan coughed, trying to cover his reaction.
“You okay?” Huck asked.
“Fine. Just went down the wrong way.”
“Mom says that happens when you try to drink and think at the same time.”
“Your mom is a smart woman.”
“The smartest. And she’s pretty too. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
“Very pretty.”
“Good.” He smiled.
Before Rowan could figure out how to respond to that, Sierra’s voice drifted down from upstairs.
“Huck! Come get ready! We need to leave for the arena soon!”
“Coming!” Huck slid off his chair and headed for the stairs, then turned back. “Mr. R?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what my mom meant, but I’m glad you came back too.”
The boy disappeared up the stairs, leaving Rowan alone in the kitchen with the morning sunlight and the lingering scent of bacon and the sound of Sierra moving around in the room above his head.
Yeah, yeah, him too.