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So I did what I always did.
On went my smile and smooth went my brow as I closed the door behind me.
“Hey,” Jo said fondly. “You ride this morning?”
“Gretchen wanted a stretch,” I answered, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the hooks over the bench.
Mama turned around and looked me up and down, pointing her spatula at me. “Take those boots off, Daisy Mae.”
“Yes, Mama,” I said, taking a seat to pull off my muddy boots, which would have been all right if the hems of my jeans weren’t gritty and wet too.
“You have breakfast yet?” Mama asked.
“No, but I’m gonna go shower, if it’s all right.”
“Course it’s all right.”
I stood and headed for my room. “Be right back.”
I took my time getting ready for the day, changing into something a little less cowgirl and a little more business casual. It was my hope that everybody would be off for their chores and I could eat without interference.
But again, luck wasn’t on my side.
It seemed they’d all waited for me, though their plates were empty.
“Here, baby,” Mama said, hopping up to fetch the plate she’d made up from where it was being kept warm in the oven.
“Thank you,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking one of the empty seats.
“What are y’all up to today?” I asked so they wouldn’t ask anything of me.
“Well,” Poppy started, “Our doc for the shelter just got to town, and I have two social workers coming down from San Antonio, so I’ll be busy with them all day. Jo and Grant are working on some fundraisers.”
Jo perked up at the mention, and Grant just watched her, amused.
“We’re going to do a car wash,” Jo said, grinning.
I frowned. “Like, you’re gonna put on a bikini and wash cars for money?”
“Nope. The guys are.”
One of my brows rose in Grant’s direction, and he shrugged. “Including me.”
I snorted a laugh. “In a bikini?”
“Shirtless, in trunks with five-inch inseams,” Poppy said on a giggle.
“Oh, you are gonna earn so much money.” I shoveled up a fork of eggs and popped them in my mouth, cheery for the first time today. When I’d swallowed, I asked, “Who else?”
“Notably, Sebastian, Wyatt, Evan, and the Meyer brothers,” Jo answered.
I paused, fork loaded and midair. “All of them?”
Evilly, she smiled. “All of them.”
The thought of Keaton with no shirt on set my temperature on the rise. I mentally double-checked that I’d put on deodorant and was relieved to remember I had.
“And we’re all going to be their supervisors. I got us matching coveralls.”
“Stop it,” I said, giggling.
“I can’t. It’s too much fun,” Poppy said.
“The idea is to get the community involved, so we’re thinking a walk-a-thon, an auction, a pancake dinner. That sort of thing,” Jo added.
“Pancakes, huh? Do they know that’s your specialty?” I asked.
“They’re about to find out.”
A moment of content silence stretched out before Poppy asked, “How was seeing Drew?”
I took a heavy breath and set down my fork in favor of my coffee. “It was like it usually is.”
They nodded their understanding, Mama knowing best of all. Grant sat quietly at Jo’s side, his arm on the back of her chair, an observer who never felt like an intrusion.
I changed the subject. “On my way, I stopped by the Meyer’s to drop some contracts off for Cole. Problem was, Cole wasn’t there. Keaton was.”
Jo snickered. “That sneaky son of a bitch set you up, didn’t he?”
“I always knew I liked him,” Poppy said.
“Pretty sure he did. Although Sophie was there too, which helped. They were baking cookies.”
“Oh my god, that’s so cute.”
“Keaton had on a pink apron and everything.” I chuckled. “Sophie was no better than her daddy—kid guilted me into helping and staying to eat some.”
“But were they good?” Poppy asked.
“They were.”
“Even better. The man makes delicious cookies, is good with kids, and is built like that? Somebody better lock that down,” Poppy said.
“Go right ahead,” I offered. “If you really think he’s on the market.”
“Oh, no. He’s not my type. Too serious.”
I gave her a look. “Too serious?”
“Yeah, too serious. I need somebody with a smarter mouth,” Poppy informed me. “Sarcastic. A little bit Han Solo, a little bit Indiana Jones.”
“So, Harrison Ford?”
“Listen, it’s not my fault Daddy made us watch those movies over and over again when we were little. It gave me unrealistic expectations of the world. It’s been a disappointment ever since I realized men were mostly garbage cans. Present company excluded.”
Grant gave her a nod of thanks but said nothing.
“Anyway,” Poppy continued, “he’s more your type, Daisy.”
“Sorry, I’m cursed,” I said, stuffing a forkful of hashed browns into my gob.
“Are you cursed, or do you just want to avoid getting yourself hurt?” Jo asked.
“Iris Jo,” Mama chided. “You leave her alone.”
I withered at Jo’s suggestion, somehow made worse by Grant’s presence, though I knew he didn’t judge. But that bruise was deep enough that I didn’t want anyone around to witness my reaction to my sister punching it.
