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“No, go on, Lisa.” Hunter put down his sandwich and looked at his daughter. She and Ryder sat across from one another down the table a seat, with Clay and Charlotte closest to Hunter. “If Ryder doesn’t want you to tell me, he should tell me himself.”
He cocked his eyebrows at his son, hoping he was doing this right. There were no manuals on how to raise kids, and most of the time he followed Molly’s lead.
Ryder shifted in his seat, clearly at war with himself. Everyone remained silent, and only Clay and the girls kept eating.
“Ryder,” Hunter said. “Tonight, please.”
“Fine,” he bit out. “I’m over at the Thatcher place.”
“Travis’s place?” Hunter’s eyebrows crinkled. “Why?”
“Really, Daddy? I have to spell it out for you when you started dating Mama when you were eleven?”
“Hey, we broke up for a long time,” Hunter said automatically. Pieces clicked around in his head. “Travis and Poppy have a daughter your age, don’t they?”
“Clementine is almost thirteen,” Lisa said matter-of-factly. “In fact, we got an invitation to her birthday party a couple of days ago.”
Hunter looked from his daughter to his son, with no clue what to say or do next. He thought of his own father and the many, many, many talks they’d had about girls. Hunter had already done several of those with Ryder, and his own face started to turn a little hot.
“Ryder, tell me we don’t need to have another talk about girls,” he said.
“No,” his son mumbled as he ducked his head. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Other than upsetting your mother,” Hunter said gently. “Does Miss Poppy or Travis know about your visits to their farm?”
Ryder kept his face practically against his plate. “No.”
“Ah, so maybe you are doing something wrong.”
“We stand there and talk by the donkey pen,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
“Why can’t you do that and then get back to Mama on time?” Hunter asked.
“Because Clementine doesn’t go out to do her chores until five-thirty,” he said.
Hunter picked up his sandwich again, determined to find out more. He wouldn’t ask Ryder if he’d kissed this girl in front of his sisters, but that questionwouldbe answered before Hunt went to bed tonight. Oh, yes, it would.
“What do you talk about?” he asked instead, and Ryder sighed the sigh of the century. He was saved by the back door getting slid open and his mother entering the house.
“Oh, good,” she said. “You didn’t wait for me.”
Hunter wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but he twisted and gave her a smile. “Hey, hon.”
She leaned down and kissed him, and he didn’t sense anything too wrong with her. Of course, he wasn’t the best at sensing emotions—his or his wife’s—but he watched her as she sat down and started unwrapping her sandwich.
“Mama, I saved you these.” Ryder passed her the sour cream and chive potato chips she liked, and she gave him a beaming smile.
“Thank you, baby.”
“What was goin’ on at the Stephens’?” Hunter asked.
Molly met his eye from across the table, and hesawher then. She was tired but okay. “Not much. She just needed help with something real quick.” That was code forI’ll tell you later, and Hunter nodded.
“Great,” he said. “Well, me and the kids are going fishing tomorrow.”
“You are?” Molly’s surprise hit him from fifteen feet away. “All of you?”
“All of us.” Hunter grinned around at his kids. “So everyone will have to be on their best behavior, and maybe we’ll be able to get desserts on the way home.”
