Page 114 of Peaches & Pistols

I wasn’t particularly hungry when I got here, but Connor must be because he braves the mystery dish. One cautious bite turns into a second regular bite.

“No idea what it is. Gotta be some kind of ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ casserole, but it tastes good.” Connor digs in to his meal, but I have no desire to try it.

Mouth full, Connor mumbles, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t respect you, but you’re kinda my only option.”

Connor snorts. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not something I’m ready for James or Reid to know, which means Isabelle can’t know. And Olivia and Delilah can’t know because they’d surely tell Isabelle. I’m not asking you to keep secrets from your wife. I just need a sounding board, and you’re that additional step away from that bloodline, you know?” I try to explain without coming across as a complete dick.

“Naw, I get it. I have CJ if I need to discuss something outside of the family. We’re cool,” Connor assures.

“The apartment above the hardware store was fine for me and Harper when she was a little thing, even when her old nanny stayed with us. Now with Mia and Everly, let’s just say it’s cozy. Everyone’s got their own rooms but we’re on top of each other and there sure as hell is no such thing as privacy.” I raise my eyebrows like, you know exactly what I mean.

“It’s great having the girls so close to school, but we’re spending less and less time at the apartment in favor of the space and freedom at the ranch.”

Connor nods thoughtfully, still shoveling slop into his mouth.

“Hell, I’m at the ranch once if not twice a day helping with ranch chores, and I’m not complainin’ one bit. I owe everything to the Andersens and the ranch. The girls love it out there just like I did as a kid.

“Aside from Olivia, our girls don’t have any ‘real’ family, which I know is bullshit. We’ve got an incredible found family and support system, and I don’t like being stuck in town when the ranch is where we all want to be.

“I want Harper and Everly to grow up with grandparents and aunts and uncles. Maybe cousins someday.” I take a deep breath, preparing to voice a plan I’ve only dreamed of in silence.

“I’d like to approach the Andersens about purchasing a plot of land to build on, like you did for Delilah. Despite the family basically raising me, it’s an ask I can’t take back, and I’ll never forgive myself if I jeopardize those relationships for the girls.”

Making the Andersens uncomfortable or putting them in an awkward position makes my chest ache.

“Damn, Clark, that’s the most consecutive words I’ve ever heard put together.” Sitting taller in the booth looking over heads, he muses, “Think anyone here has the contact information for the Guinness Book of World Records?”

A quick heel stomp on the bridge of his foot has him sitting back down, chuckling.

“Are you gonna eat yours?” Connor points at my plate. I slide it across to him in reply.

“Do you want my opinion on if you’re doing the right thing? Or are you asking how I did it so you can take a similar approach?” A heap of glop goes it his mouth, some landing in his beard. Poor Delilah, she has to kiss this fool when he gets home.

“Both.”

Connor washes it down with his entire glass of water and leans back against the booth, crossing his arms.

“First of all, hell yea I think you’re doing the right thing. Living at Lucky Spurs Ranch is like leaving the troubles of the world behind and existing in a bubble where you’re always supported and surrounded by the people who love you most. I think that kind of environment is one of a kind and would be a great place for your kids to grow up,” Connor says.

My throat constricts with emotion because that’s the childhood I had at the ranch, and every night I had to return home, I had to stop myself from begging to stay forever.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I think that kind of environment could also help Mia heal, especially with Delilah’s equine-assisted learning program on site.” He retreats minutely, afraid he’s crossed a line making assumptions about Mia, but he’s dead on.

I nod like that damn bobblehead armadillo mounted on Reid’s dash, not meeting Connor’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“As for how I did it”—Connor chuckles—“it was surprisingly easy. Walter and Cecelia own the ranch on paper, but Reid has unilateral control of everything that happens there. I told Reid what I wanted and my reasons, and he said he’d get the paperwork drawn up and welcomed me to Lucky Spurs Ranch.”

“That was it?” I ask in disbelief.

“That was it. He set me up with his architects and was with me every step of the way.”

I toss down more than enough cash to cover lunch. “I’ll follow you back to the ranch.”

I need to get ready for my next conversation.