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“She doesn’t know?”
Rowdy was too young to realize how painful that question was. He meant no offense. But the truth of it stung. “Nope.”
Rowdy nodded. “Sorry.”
Toben placed his hand on Rowdy’s shoulder. “No reason. I’ve got plenty of family to keep me in line.”
“It’s always been me and Mom.” There was no bitterness or sadness, just fact. But his son’s words stoked Toben’s anger. Rowdy was a Boone. He had a family, a big one at that. Something else Poppy’d kept from him.
Rowdy picked up a stick, whacking the thistle flowers as they ambled back down the road. “Aunt Rose comes around now and then but they don’t get along for long.”
“Dot and Otis’s mom?” Toben asked. If the kids were anything like their parents, Toben could easily understand why Poppy and Rose weren’t close.
“Yeah, Aunt Rose and Uncle Bob.” He whacked another thistle. “Uncle Bob’s nice. He always has candy in his pocket. Mitchell, too. Mitchell’s always around, helping me and Ma. He’s real funny.”
Mitchell? Who the hell was Mitchell? What did always around mean, exactly? But then, Poppy was a beautiful woman. It made sense for her to have a man in her life. A man in Rowdy’s life. His anger and frustration pressed hot and heavy against his chest. They were almost to the house and Toben realized he had at least a hundred questions he hadn’t asked. He’d have to make sure they had more time together—soon.
“Good walk?” Poppy asked, curled up on the front porch swing. Toben tried not to stare into her big brown eyes. Instead he focused on her long brown hair, braided over one shoulder. She wore jeans and a short-sleeved blue blouse, her scuffed and worn boots used for work—not for show. She wasn’t about making impressions or putting on airs, he’d always admired that about her. She was Poppy, take her or leave her. The same woman she’d been years ago. The same woman who’d turned his world on its head, put longing in his heart and made him run for the hills.
The mother of his son.
His anger warmed him—and helped him keep his guard up.
“Yep,” Rowdy said, sliding into the swing beside her. “Wish Cheeto was here. Maybe we can go for a ride when he gets here?” he asked Toben.
“Good idea,” Toben agreed, leaning against the porch railing. “Or you two could come out to the ranch tomorrow. I live there, on the Boone Ranch. Work there, too. We’ve got a lot of horses on the place, and the food’s good. Give you a break from cooking. And setting off smoke detectors.” He couldn’t stop his teasing smile.
When she smiled back at him, every inch of him responded.
“I don’t think Dot and Otis are big horse lovers.” She frowned at Rowdy. “They’re leaving soon, though.”
“Not soon enough,” Rowdy grumbled.
He saw that she tried not to laugh but failed. It was the sweetest sound. Free and easy. Like their son. He liked it.
“They’re not the most...agreeable kids, are they?” Toben asked, chuckling. They were a stark contrast to Rowdy, one he was suddenly very thankful to Poppy for. Not that he was ready to feel thankful to her. Not yet.
She shook her head. “When Rose got cancer, everyone just sort of gave them what they wanted to try to cheer them up. Now nothing seems to really make them happy.”
Toben nodded. “She better?” he asked. “Your sister?”
“Yes, much better.”
“Cancer’s a bitch.” He paused, staring at Rowdy, then Poppy. “That just sort of slipped out.”
She nodded at him, her brow arching. “It happens. And, since we’re talking about cancer, I’m fine with it.”
He grinned.
“I’ll get you both some pie,” she offered, disappearing into the house before he could answer.
They all sat on the porch swing, enjoying Clara’s apple pie and the company.
“Can we visit tomorrow night?” Rowdy asked. “Beats sitting at home and watching them play video games.”
Toben looked at Poppy over Rowdy’s head. He saw the indecision on her face, the nervousness. What was she worrying over? Considering how quickly this had come to light, he thought he’d been handling things pretty well. But...it was new for them all. And if he was smart, he wouldn’t start pushing for more time with Rowdy. Yet.
“It’s an open invitation. All you have to do is call, Poppy. And thanks for dinner.” His voice was soft. “For this evening.” He meant it.
