Oddly enough, he had very little experience with romance. In high school, he’d always known he was leaving rural Texas to go to college, so he hadn’t wanted to get into any serious relationships that left a nice girl behind, heartbroken. In college, he’d been a hick from small town Texas playing catch up with kids who’d gone to the top prep schools on the East Coast and were way better prepared for an Ivy League college than him. That meant he’d studied non-stop through his undergrad years. And law school. Well, it had been law school. Where the reading list was more than any one human could possible do, the mental demand was unrelenting, and sleep was optional.
Once he’d gotten a job as a lawyer he’d expected to start dating, but nobody’d warned him about the high-pressure, high stakes, high-money world of corporate fraud litigation. It was all about logging as many billable hours as one human could cram into a seven-day week.
If possible, he’d worked harder even than in law school. And unlike some of his colleagues who turned to performing enhancing . . . medications . . . to stay alert and focused, he’d relied on caffeine and what little sleep he could snatch in between sixteen and eighteen hour work days.
Then, when he’d left that world and joined the rodeo, not only had he been too burned out to consider dating, but the rodeo moved to a new town almost every week. There was no way to meet a nice woman, build a relationship, and settle down.
He listened to Grace moving through her kitchen. He could hear her set a pan on a burner, the chuff of the coffee maker, the tiny scrape of something on a counter.
The clock on the nightstand said four fifty-seven.
He sat up, and Marshmallow opened one eye, glaring at him in disapproval.
“Give me that stank eye all you want, but when I get out of bed, you know you’ll move up to the warm spot by the pillow,” he muttered at her.
He stood up carefully and pulled on the jeans and black T-shirt he'd left folded on the chair. Sure enough, the cat settled smugly in the spot he’d just vacated.
He padded down the hall in his feet.
Grace was at the counter screwing the lid onto her thermos when he stepped into the kitchen. The lamp over the stove caught her face from the side and he saw, just for a beat, the small puffiness under her eyes that meant she’d cried again last night. He’d heard her the past two nights sniffling quietly.
He hadn’t been able to go to sleep himself until she’d stopped, presumably because she’d fallen asleep. He didn’t comment on it now. She would talk to him about which of the many stressors in her life was making her cry if and when she wanted to.
She turned. "Breakfast is almost ready, and I poured your coffee. It’s on the table. Splash of cream and a little sugar, right?”
"Yep. But you didn’t have to do that."
"You made me a tea last night. We're even."
"I don’t think of kindness in terms of math, but thank you."
He drank the coffee and ate the fried eggs she slid onto his plate.
"Should I go wake Lily for you?" he asked. “Or do you want to do that while I do the dishes?”
“She’s a bear when she first wakes up. I’d better do it,” Grace replied. “And you’re sure you don’t mind taking her to her school?”
“Not at all. She’s fun to talk with. Although mostly I just listen to her comment on the world. A four-year-old’s perspective is fascinating at times.”
Grace rolled her eyes and headed out of the kitchen.
Reno got up to do the dishes and realized Lily had missed breakfast. He fried her an egg over hard, got out one of the leftover buttermilk biscuits and quickly microwaved a couple slices of bacon. When he flipped the egg to harden up its other side, he laid a slice of cheese on it to get warm and melty. He quickly assembled a breakfast sandwich, cut it in half for her, and wrapped it so she could eat it in the car.
He heard Lily complain loudly about something and Grace’s calm reply in a soothing voice. The pair came into the kitchen a minute later. Lily had one of her usual stuffed seals under her left arm and was rubbing her eyes with her right fist. Her curly hair was messy and obviously hadn’t been brushed out. He gathered that was the source of Lily’s ire.
“Morning, Bedhead,” he said cheerfully.
“What’s that?” she demanded, sounding cranky.
He answered innocently, “It’s what you call people whose hair is standing up crazily and going every which way. It’s what all the other kids are going to call you today at school. It’s not mean or anything, so don’t get upset when they say it, okay?”
Lily’s eyes went wide. She looked at Grace for confirmation, and her mother nodded.
Lily huffed and said grouchily to Grace. “Fine. You can brush my hair.”
Reno intervened before Grace could answer. “Your Mommy does lots and lots of nice things for you and takes care of you. Maybe instead of being a grumpy-pants, you should ask her nicely and say please.”
Lily gave him a surprised look. She thought for a moment and then said, “Mommy, can you please brush my hair? And can I have the butterfly barrettes?” A brief pause then hastily, “Please?”
