My mother just nods and smiles. “You are. And then you’re going to tell me about this girl that has you so sour.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t sass me. You aren’t this surly by nature. You’re certainly notmy most joyful child, but not everyone can be as happy-go-lucky as Pat.”
“Mama, I promise it will eventually pass,” I tell her, hoping against hope that I’m not lying.
“What’s going on?” she asks, clearly not waiting until dinner.
Oh, I’m still expected to go, but she’s clearly impatient for information.
“I met a girl at a restaurant,” I explain.
“Look, Hugh, now he’s scandalizing our mother with his shenanigans,” my brother Lance says as he and my brother Hugh approach.
Lance and I look the most alike, though his hair is the same dark brown as Patrick’s.
Hugh, on the other hand, favors my mother. He has our black hair, but that’s pretty much where our resemblance ends.
“Who asked you for your opinion?” my mother asks my brothers, scowling at them.
“Sorry, Mama,” Lance says, frowning.
“Can we just talk about this later?” I ask. “I need to shower before heading over to the main house.”
My mother frowns, but nods. I can only hope she understands. “Fine, but this conversation is merely paused,” she warns me.
I kiss her temple after we both stand. She laces her arms throughboth my brothers’ and takes them with her.
My home is comfortable, built to last, and definitely has room to expand. I didn’t build more than I needed, and since it’s just me, I keep it simple, though my room is large, with floor to ceiling windows that face east. I love the morning light.
My bathroom has a large, jetted tub and a separate shower with a rainfall showerhead and a massager to help with my aches.
I’m not gonna lie. The years of bronc riding were a blast, but riding was hell on my body. I’m not a young man anymore and my back and neck feel the pain the most by the end of the day. I’m not exactly the kind of man who sits on his ass either. My job is very labor-intensive. If my father’s appearance at seventy is any indication, ranching is hard work but keeps a man strong and lean.
I quickly shower and change before I make my way out the back to the main house.
“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” my sister says as I walk into the kitchen.
Tiffany is… well, she’s my only sister, and therefore my brotherly instincts have always been high when it comes to her. Her dark brown hair is swept up in a messy bun; her face is clean of makeup, yet she’s glowing.
“Where’s Millie?” I ask before darting behind the kitchen island and hiding.
A giggle welcomes me as I crawl on the floor toward my niece. Millie is Tiffany at four years old. Bright, full of laughter andjoy, my niece is special. And like her mama, the only female of an all-male lot.
Hugh has two boys with his wife Gretchen, and Tiffany has another child, a six-year-old named Jax, with her husband Randal.
I grunt when Millie jumps onto my back from behind and giggles when I try to buck her off.
“Look mommy! I’m a bronc rider!” she laughs as she holds on tight to the collar of my shirt.
“I’m not a horse! I’m the tickle monster!” I cry out as I turn around, grab her from my back and wrestle her to the ground and tickle her tummy.
“No!” she yells, her face turning red as she tries to wiggle away.
“Uncle Caine, tickle me!” yells Connor, Hugh’s youngest.
I grab him and begin tickling him as Jax and Millie jump on my back. I feign an injury and fall to the ground. “I’m down, you got me!” I croak.
After a few moments, the kids jump up and run to the playroom beside the kitchen. I kiss my sister and shake my brother-in-law’s hand.
“Mom warn you about dinner?” Tiffany asks when I open the fridge and grab a beer.
