Page 114 of Cowboy Daddies

Chapter Two

Callum

Early morning light filtered in through the curtains above the sink. It was peaceful standing in Nana’s kitchen, the sort of quiet that almost opened up the grief I’d been pushing down into my gut. Quinn had every right to be annoyed that I was here on what she considered her turf. I hadn’t been around much, something I regretted deeply.

Brewing coffee, I leaned back against the counter. Nana had practically raised me along with my grandfather, a huge bear of a man we’d called Tuts. Why we’d called him that was a lost memory, but I missed them both terribly.

The back door opened, jarring me out of my thoughts.

Quinn cooed to one of the many house cats who had inevitably greeted her in the mudroom. I listened to the soft cadence of her voice as she moved around. I’d seen a pair of bunny slippers resting on a mat near the doorway, but hadn’t connected the dots.

She strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later as if she belonged, wrapped in a cardigan full of holes, her hair in a messy braid. Those same adorable bunny slippers peeked out from her cotton pajama pants and she skidded to a halt.

“Morning,” I said, pouring a mug of coffee for myself then grabbing another cup from the nearby cabinet. “Freshly made. You must have smelled it across the way.”

“Oh! Oh… I didn’t… I didn’t even think. This is your house now,” she said clearly flustered. “There’s no kitchen in my cottage; I always come here. Um, do you want me to leave?”

Did I want her to leave? I knew these weren’t the best of circumstances, but that was the last thing I wanted. “No, please. Sit. Tell me your routines. Now isn’t the time to rearrange them unless they really need to be adjusted.”

Quinn glanced at the kitchen nook, the spot where she’d likely shared many early morning cups of coffee with my Nana, then back at me. As if she was deciding whether or not to join me or to quietly reverse out of the kitchen and rush back to her cottage.

She bit her bottom lip. It was far too early for her to be doing that particular gesture. I wanted to free her lip with my thumb and drag her to the nook, forcing her to spend time with me. Time I hadn’t earned yet.

“Creamer?” I brought a mug to the counter nearest the fridge and waited for her to retreat or sit. I secretly hoped for the latter.

“French vanilla. I perfected the recipe, not store bought. It’s on the top shelf in a glass mason jar and the lid is outfitted with a spout. Nana was crafty in practical things…”

Quinn shuffled to the table, sitting on the bench and sliding one leg up to rest on it. She’d been so feisty yesterday that I was pleasantly surprised when she stayed. I added the homemade creamer to her mug and brought it to her, joining her in the cozy space.

“I miss her. I didn’t get to spend much time with her the past few years,” I said honestly. “Nana couldn’t figure out how to answer my video chats properly, so I’d spend forty minutes talking directly to her forehead.”

Quinn nearly choked on her coffee. That was a good sign.

“Oh! But why didn’t you tell her how to set her phone down so she could see you?”

“I tried, but she was so stubborn. I bet that’s where you get it from,” I mused. “Anyway, I sent her a stand for her cell phone. Once it was set up at least I conversed with her chin.”

Giggling, she covered her mouth with both hands. Something flickered across her face and the peals of laughter turned into a steady cry. She rested her head on her leg. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. Please don’t apologize. Not for crying.” I reached across the table offering a napkin.

She glanced up, her gorgeous hazel eyes full of tears. I pressed the napkin into her hand, watching as she blotted her cheeks. She was breathtakingly beautiful even while grieving. I was so far over my head, something I’d realized yesterday when she’d tossed her attitude in my direction. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from throwing out a consequence if she continued. But I had no right to do so. It had crossed my mind to have some sort of decorum, and I’d said it anyway. Quinn hadn’t responded eagerly, but she hadn’t told me to kick rocks either. One small victory.

“I know what this must look like to you… coming back out of obligation rather than desire. The ranch saddled around my neck instead of me wanting to be here. Though managing Violet Meadows was not on my bingo card, I promise I don’t want this transition to be difficult.” I hope my explanation gave meaning to my actions.

“Transition? Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’ve been running the place. Quite smoothly, I might add. And that I don’t need your input?”

I preferred her fiery disposition rather than sadness, but it didn’t mean I knew how to decompartmentalize the pieces. Quinn saw me as someone forcing his way into a system that had been working. And on paper, it had been. But Nana was old school and things hadn’t been running as smoothly as they appeared.

“The finances aren’t as solid as they should be. Moving everything to digital spreadsheets will make it easier to see where costs could be cut, or where we need to make improvements. Some of it may be back-end expenses but there are a few structural damages in the barn.” I finished my first cup of coffee and gave her the transparency she’d been missing. Or maybe Nana never gave her the full picture which seemed odd, but it wouldn’t have been on purpose.

Quinn’s gaze flickered out the window as if she was intently focused on the sun rising. After a few minutes of silence, she nodded, giving me the space to continue.

“Look, my Nana… Nana,” I corrected since technically she’d been all that Quinn had in the form of a family. To say otherwise would make my sweet grandmother climb out of her grave and haunt me. “She wasn’t rolling in cash, but she followed my grandfather’s way of not fixing problems until they broke. I believe in preemptive strikes.”

“So, by that statement you want to preemptively bend me over a hay bale?”

I knew what she was doing, even without being around her the past decade. Her sassy exterior was a defense mechanism for things she housed inside that didn’t dare see the light of day. If I was pressing too closely to a need, that crack in the foundation we’d glossed over yesterday would have her brat spouting off. I already knew Quinn Gable was a brat with a capital ‘B’.