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Lizardman galloped for Dakota, immediately taking a liking to someone closer to his size. West had intended Lizardman’s fate to be a blissful life of hanging out with his sons, and now, Lizardman easily adapted to his role, wagging his tail and showing off every trick that he’d ever learned.
Dakota reached out tentative fingers towards the puppy and Lizardman leaped at him. “Wow!” The small boy both kept the puppy’s needle fangs at bay and tried to coax him closer so that he could rub at his floppy ears. “He’s really little and soft!”
“He’s still a puppy,” Emily said.
“But he’s not really going to get much bigger,” Nash admitted. Poor dog had short man syndrome.
“What’s his name?” Dakota asked.
“Lizardman.” Nash could never reveal the puppy’s name without a big grin.
Dakota took the name quite seriously. His mouth formed an “O,” and he nodded with respect. “Good name. He looks like a Lizardman.”
Was Lizardman a cartoon character or something?
Boots against the gravel alerted them to another newcomer. Dakota grinned toothlessly up at an older woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat over her silky white hair. “Nanna, they have a dog!”
“A dog?” She let out a robust laugh. “Hope he likes my cats!” Millie Turner was in full rancher attire with her boots, western-style shirt, and Wrangler jeans. She had her grandson’s olive coloring and must’ve been quite the heartbreaker in her youth. She still held a fire in her with her steady eyes and expressive face.
“Good afternoon, Millie.” Nash wasn’t sure how formal he needed to be, but he thrust out his hand anyway.
She took his hand with a firm grasp and studied him with an assessing look. “You’re a Slade?”
“Yeah.”
She let go of his hand, dropping what was left of her reserve in an instant. “Excellent. I know your father. He’s a good man.”
Nash swallowed, feeling the responsibility of living up to his father’s reputation twist his insides with sudden worry. West had better not be double crossing any of them with this job.
“I’ve got a pie baking in the oven,” Millie said. “Either of you know how to grill?”
Nash straightened with sudden excitement. Now this was his idea of a perfect Fourth of July. His hand shot up. “I cook up a mean steak, ma’am.”
She laughed. “I thought so. You’re a picture of your poppa. I’ll wager you’re as mischievous a devil as he is, too.”
“Mischievous?” Nash repeated. His father certainly wasn’t now. Jase Slade was known across the county for being stern, but then again life had settled him, most especially after his wife’s debilitating heart disease. Add to that the responsibilities of a ranch, and all his father’s youthful days of being a bad boy had been erased. He’d certainly never hinted about anything in his past. Nash felt his dimples drill into his cheeks. “Sounds like you have some stories to tell.”
“You bet I do.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Nash asked. There was a wraparound porch, and tonight would have a starry sky just begging for the echoes of reminisces of days gone by and maybe… a few fireworks.
Glancing over at Emily’s enchanted expression as she took in the surrounding countryside, he breathed out deeply. After one look at her, he released the rest of his worries. What was wrong with him anyway? Wringing his hands over things that he had no control over was usually his twin’s job.
Nash finally had Emily to himself. It was time to have some fun.
