Hoisting the bale to his shoulder, he followed. “Feel free to tell her.”
“Not mine to tell.”
The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. He was his father’s son when it came to emotional conversations. On top of that, sharing a piece of his personal history with Zinnia would draw them closer together, something he’d been planning to avoid.
He considered his options as he walked toward the little group, people he’d only met today. Three strangers, really.
Except he’d done a lousy job of maintaining his distance from that spunky crew. Zinnia and Marigold were amazingly resilient considering they’d lost both parents and it looked like Tex’s dad had flown the coop.
Even if he took his mom’s advice and accepted payment for monitoring the birth of Speckles’ foal, that transaction wouldn’t do the trick. This situation was already more than a job.
Big surprise, he’d become invested in helping to create good outcomes for everyone, especially Zinnia. So far he’d been able to keep his libido in check, though.
Having Tex around made that easier by reminding him a kid was a huge responsibility—one he wasn’t looking for.
Chapter Eight
Tex babbled non-stop about his new friend while Zinnia helped him wash up. Uncle Graham must have spilled the beans about the birthday party while he’d been describing Laughing Creek Ranch and the Bridger Bunch. Tex had a thousand questions about that, none of which she could answer.
Her son had forgiven her ignorance with a quick it’s okay, I’ll ask Mister Monty. Her son had interacted with plenty of adults in his short life and had liked many of them. But he’d never developed a crush.
His adoration promised to make her avoidance plan a challenge, especially because she agreed with him on the excellence of Monty Bridger. She understood why Tex wanted to name his foal after that cowboy and refused to consider the confusion that might result.
Not that she’d ever mix up the two. As he came toward her balancing a hay bale on his shoulder, her heartbeat shifted into double-time. She’d asked the Universe for a kind and capable vet for her mare. The Universe had overdelivered.
Tex popped the lid off the glass container of brownies and picked up the tongs tucked inside. “Better wash up fast, Mister Monty if you want brownies.”
“I do and I will.” He set the hay bale next to Tex’s stool. “Have a seat, ladies.”
“Thanks.” Zinnia gave him her standard we’re just friends smile. After taking another peek at Speckles, who was back to pacing the stall, she settled onto the crunchy surface of the hay bale.
“He likes you,” her sister murmured, plopping down beside her.
“Mm.”
“You like him, too.”
“I like him.” Tex perched on his stool, hat nudged back and his boot heels hooked over the wooden rung below his seat, looking for all the world like a miniature cowboy at a bar except for the brownies in his lap. “I like him a lot. He gots a birthday, Auntie Mari, and we’re going.”
“We are?” Her brows shot up.
“It’s this Saturday night, sis. I’m guessing that switching shifts is a non-starter, but if you?—”
“Yeah, too soon, but a birthday party sounds like fun. I’d like to meet that family.”
“Monty’s mother Raquel said we’re welcome anytime.”
“That’s nice of her. Was she the one who invited you to the birthday party?”
“Uh, no. That was Monty.”
“I see.” Mari gave her a knowing glance.
She lowered her voice. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Zin, maybe it’s time for?—”
“Here he comes.” Excitement rippled through Tex’s announcement, as if a celebrity had just emerged on stage.
