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“What the hell are you smiling about now?” Riley looks at me as he stuffs his face with sausage. I actually didn’t realize I was cheesing so much. It’s hard to hide happiness like this.
“Just thinkin’ about your sister,” I tease, but I’m being truthful, which is even more funny to me. If only he knew I wasn’t joking this time. Rowan. Damn, just thinking about her causes my temperature to rise as memories of this weekend cause heat to shoot through my veins.
A biscuit flies toward my head, and I quickly move out of the way only for it to swiftly hit one of the guests. Riley immediately stands and goes to her.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. I was just horseplayin’ and didn’t mean to hit ya,” he tells her.
She smiles. “It’s okay, honey. I have grandkids your age, so I understand.”
A clearing of a throat comes from the doorway, and I see John looking at us incredulously. “Riley!” he snaps, curling his finger. “Come over here, boy.”
I snicker and pull my phone out of my pocket to see a text from Rowan.
Rowan
I miss sitting on your face in the mornings.
Diesel
And I miss having you for breakfast. I mean, Maize’s cooking is great, but it’s nothing compared to eating you.
Rowan
You’re bad, but in a way I love, Cowboy.
Diesel
Did you just say you love me?
I smirk, knowing it’s way too early to exchange those words, but there’s no other way to describe the way I’ve always felt about Rowan Bishop. Now that I have the chance of a lifetime with the woman my fifteen-year-old self jerked off to nearly every night in the shower, there’s no way in hell I’m fucking it up.
Diesel
I’m just kidding.
Rowan
Shut the hell up.
Diesel
Why don’t you make me? I can think of a few ways.
Riley returns, and I tuck my phone in my pocket and stuff my mouth with food so I don’t have to talk. The smirk isn’t lost on him, though.
“You’re a dickhead,” he murmurs, keeping his head low.
“Surprised John didn’t murder you back there,” I tell him.
Riley glares at me. “If I wasn’t family, he probably would’ve. Just picked up extra chores for hitting a woman with a biscuit because you don’t know how to shut the fuck up.”
I shrug. “And you don’t know how to control your temper.”
A few seconds later, Riley takes his attention from his plate and glances behind me. I turn around and see a blonde walking toward us, but I don’t recognize her, so I go back to my breakfast.
“Diesel?” she asks when she gets closer, looking directly at me.
“Howdy,” I greet. “Can I help you?”
I wonder if I’ve met her before, but she doesn’t look too familiar, so I’m fairly certain I haven’t.
She looks at me, then at Riley. “Is there any way we can chat in private?”
Riley shoos me away.
“Sure, no problem.” Though I’m curious as to what she has to say.
Looking around, I lead her out onto the back porch because it’s fairly empty. Once we’re outside, she turns to me.
“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.” She hesitates as if she’s waiting for a reaction.
I give her a grin and shrug. “It’s no problem, ma’am. What can I help you with?”
She sucks in a deep breath, and I can tell she’s nervous. I wish she’d just spit it out, though. “I wrote you a letter a couple of months back…”
It takes me a minute to comprehend what she’s talking about. “Letter?”
…but I know exactly what she’s referring to.
“Yeah, my name is Laurel. You didn’t call me even though I left my number so you left me no choice but to come here. My sister, Chelsea, needs your help, even if she’s too proud to ask for it.”
I blink hard. “Chelsea?”
She nods. “Chelsea’s my sister. You two hooked up in Vegas three years ago. She gave birth to your son nine months after.” Laurel grabs her cell phone and swipes through her photos, then turns it around and shows me the screen.
“There he is. Just look at him. There’s no doubt he’s your son. I knew the moment I saw your Facebook photos that you were his daddy.”
I look down at the picture of the beautiful boy who’s a spitting image of me when I was that age. He has my mouth, nose, and even my green eyes. Learning I have a son that Chelsea never told me about makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.
“Why would she keep this from me?” I search Laurel’s face. Her cheeks flush, and her pink lips tuck inside her mouth.
“I have no idea. Anytime I brought it up, she’d tell me to mind my own business. But now—”
“But now you’re not?” I stare at her.
She shrugs, unapologetically. “Not when it comes to my nephew. I love him more than anything.”
