Page 182 of Cowboy Daddies

“What does a Jeb look like?” he drawled, resisting the urge to order her to sit upright before she fell and hit her head.

Not your woman. Not your problem.

If she was his, she’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“I don’t know. Maybe older. With a bit of a belly. And a hairy chest. Of course, I don’t know if you’ve got a hairy chest.”

And she wasn’t going to find out.

“He doesn’t,” Wyatt said helpfully.

“Cool. Cool.”

“Could you sit up?” he snapped.

“I could. But this is fun. Hey, small man-child, want to try this?”

“I would if you’d get off my swing,” Wyatt grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, I forgot we have to rock, paper, scissors it,” she said, straightening.

Rock, paper, scissors it?

“The two of you don’t really look alike but you definitely stand the same way, huh?” she said, turning so she straddled the swing and could watch them both.

Jeb glanced over at Wyatt to find him frowning with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet planted wide. They were even dressed the same in jeans and button-up shirts.

Jeb frowned and moved around to where his son stood, taking in the girl properly.

Well, woman.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a thick braid and there was a spattering of freckles on her face. She had thick, full pink lips and a button nose . . . whoa.

What was he doing? He didn’t need to stare at the stranger who had given his seven-year-old son candy and was about to enter a rock-paper-scissors war over the swing that she should just give to him.

“Did you ask her for the swing?” he asked his son.

“Uh-huh.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. That doesn’t sound right to me. I think you walked up and said, ‘that’s my swing’. That’s not really asking, is it?” she countered.

“Wyatt?” Jeb asked in a stern voice.

“Well, it is my swing,” Wyatt said grouchily.

Jeb sighed. “I know you like that swing the best, but this playground is for all the children of Oddity.”

“Oddity?” the woman repeated. “What’s Oddity?”

What did she mean ‘what’s Oddity?’ Jeb glanced down at his son who shrugged, looking confused.

“Oddity is the name of this town,” he explained slowly. Was she all right?

She seemed a bit . . . off. Maybe she was confused?

Shit. Was she on drugs? He placed his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Son, I think we need to head back to the truck.”

“But I haven’t had a turn on my swing.” Wyatt gave him a stubborn look.