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“I don’t trust him,” he said, his voice low.
Poppy’s throat felt tight. She didn’t either.
“I’ve been with you and Rowdy through...everything. Don’t expect me to be all right with this asshole just showing up. Can’t do it.” He shook his head. “What’s his plan? What does he want?”
She stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t know. We haven’t exactly talked things through yet.” Something she’d rectify soon. She patted his arm. “For the record, I’m not fine with it either. But what can I do?”
He glanced at her, then at her hand on his arm.
She took a step back and shook her head. “I don’t like the look on your face, Mitchell Lee. So stop it. I’m going to wake my sister’s monsters so we can go eat.” She headed back toward the house, hoping Otis and Dot were already moving. They seemed to prefer staying up and sleeping in—the exact opposite of her and Rowdy’s schedule. “I thought you were coming in tonight,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Yeah, well... Poppy,” Mitchell called out, stopping her. “I like the place.”
She nodded, smiling. “Me, too.”
Dot and Otis were up, fighting over the sink and the toothpaste, the dripping faucet...even the towel. Poppy ignored their bickering, trying not to worry about whatever Mitchell’s look meant. And Rowdy. In the last twenty-four hours, Poppy’s level of anxiety had quadrupled. She wasn’t a worrier; she was a doer. But she didn’t know what to do about this situation.
“Why can’t we just eat cereal?” Otis asked. “It’s too early to go out.”
“It’s nine, Otis,” Poppy said. “And I don’t have any cereal. So we go out or you go hungry.”
“Figures,” Dot murmured. “Way to be prepared.”
Poppy shot her niece a look. “We’ll be more prepared when you help me shop later, Dot.”
Dot’s eyes narrowed and her lips flattened, but she didn’t say anything.
“Who’s ready?” Mitchell asked, standing in the doorway.
“I am,” Rowdy answered. “Starving.”
Poppy followed them outside, reminding herself that she was the grown-up and she needed to keep her temper in check. Dot and Otis’s life had been tough the last year. She knew how difficult it was to see your mom waste away. It took a toll on children, made them harder. But Dot and Otis were lucky, Rose was getting stronger every day. Until their family was reunited, Poppy would continue to be calm and consistent with her niece and nephew—not lose her cool even though she was on edge.
They loaded into her truck, buckled in and drove out the gate of the small ranch she already thought of as home. She listened to Rowdy and Mitchell’s banter as they drove along the winding back roads, admiring the picturesque hills, cedar and stone fences, and lazily grazing cattle. This was beautiful country.
A few homesteads cropped up as they drew closer to town.
Turn-of-the-century homes. Church turrets. A city park with a grand gazebo. Then Main Street led into town square. Stonewall Crossing had a grand courthouse, surrounded by old oak and pecan trees and carved benches. It was charming and, according to the property agent who had found the ranch for her, a tourist treasure. She drove along Main Street until they reached Pop’s Bakery. The town was already bustling, making parking scarce.
“Looks crowded,” Mitchell said. “Good sign.”
She parked, smiling as Rowdy bounced out of the truck and toward the shop. Otis and Dot seemed to perk up, too, following Rowdy without dragging their feet.
The smell of cinnamon, coffee and bacon greeted them. Poppy’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Mitchell asked, chuckling.
She nodded. She hadn’t eaten much last night.
“Me, too,” Mitchell said. “There’s a table over there.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the table against the far wall.
She went, returning the smiles and nods of the curious residents of Stonewall Crossing. She was curious about them, too. They’d just been seated when a woman approached the table. Tall and blonde, she had bright eyes and an engaging smile.
“Poppy White? Welcome to Stonewall Crossing.” She stuck out her hand. “Renata Boone.”
Poppy felt the blood drain from her face. “Renata Boone?” She shook the woman’s hand. A glance at Rowdy told her he’d missed the exchange.
“You can’t take five steps without running into a Boone in Stonewall Crossing.” An older man joined them. “Carl Stephens, owner of this fine bakery. How you settling in at the old Travis place?”
“Gorgeous country,” Mitchell offered.
Poppy nodded, processing Mr. Stephens’s comments. “There’s some work to be done.”
“Ma’s got big plans,” Rowdy said. “She doesn’t mind work.”
“This is my son, Rowdy. My niece, Dot, nephew, Otis, and Mitchell Lee.” She ruffled Rowdy’s hair.
“I don’t mean to interrupt your breakfast,” Renata said, her attention wandering around the table. “But I’d love to talk to you about participating in the Fourth of July festivities. And rodeo, of course. Maybe even riding in the Grand Entry? It’s a pretty big deal, as you know. Might be a good way to open your shop, if it’s ready by then?” She paused, pulling a card from her pocket. “Anyway, I’d love to visit with you.”
Poppy read the card. Renata Boone, Stonewall Crossing, Director of Tourism. Regardless of who or what she might be to Toben, Poppy needed to make a place for herself here. And Renata Boone would have the connections to make that happen. She smiled at the woman, adding a sincere, “I’d like that, thank you.”
“Taking some kolaches to the guys?” Mr. Stephens asked Renata.
Renata nodded. “Bottomless pits, every single one of them. You know that old saying, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Pretty much true of every Boone I know.” She waved before heading to the counter, collecting her box and leaving the bakery, a little bell ringing as the door closed behind her.
“Take a gander at the menu, I’ll be back to take your order.” Mr. Stephens offered them menus before heading to another table.
Poppy took one, but her focus remained on the pretty blonde woman walking down the cobblestoned sidewalk until she disappeared around the corner. She was a Boone. But where did she fit?
“Ma, can we get pancakes and bacon?” Rowdy asked, drawing her attention.
“Sure,” she agreed. “Sounds good to me, too.”
“Make that three,” Mitchell joined in. “Extra pancakes. And bacon.”
Rowdy laughed, using Mitchell’s favorite joke. “Gotta fill up both legs?”
“You know it,” Mitchell agreed.
Poppy watched the two of them with a smile.
Mr. Stephens returned, his pen hovering over a small notepad. “What’ll it be?”
“I want some grapefruit,” Dot piped up. “Or a cantaloupe and cottage cheese.”
Carl Stephens scratched his head. “A grapefruit I can do—I think.”
Dot sighed, dropping her menu on the table.
“You want a grapefruit over pancakes?” Otis shook his head. “Not me.”
Poppy grinned, watching Dot’s expression waver. Why was she pushing so hard? Determined to be so damn disagreeable?
“The pancakes are real good,” Mr. Stephens said. “And we’ve got some fresh strawberries I can put on top, if you like.”
Dot looked at the older man, smiling slightly. “Yes, thank you.”
Poppy breathed a sigh of relief, finishing their order.
“Oh, and coffee,” Mitchell added. “Lots and lots of coffee. Please.”
“I can do that.” Mr. Stephens smiled, collected the menus and headed back to the counter.
“Well, everyone seems nice enough,” Mitchell said, nodding at the two men at the table opposite them.
Poppy nodded, trying—and failing—to dismiss Renata Boone’s connection to the Boone family. It had been seven years, give or take a few months. It was possible Toben had finally met someone he wanted to settle down with.
She glanced at Rowdy.
For all she knew, Toben was married with kids. Rowdy might have brothers and sisters. She and Toben needed to talk. “When are you thinking of opening the store?” Mitchell asked, effectively redirecting her line of thought.
She shot him a grateful smile. “The sooner, the better. With the Fourth on the horizon, makes sense to have the place open. It’s in decent shape, really. I can take you over—”
“Not again.” Otis sighed. “We spent hours there yesterday.”
“You’re playing your game, anyway,” Rowdy pointed out. “You can do that anywhere.”
“I’d like to see the shop,” Mitchell said.
But Poppy had made her son a promise and she made a point of never breaking them. “Maybe. After we take the horses out for a ride.”
Dot and Otis moaned, but it didn’t matter. Rowdy was smiling ear to ear.
* * *
TOBEN NODDED AS his cousin Renata slid a big box of pastries onto the long table. He poured himself another cup of steaming coffee and sat in the break room off the ranch offices. Considering the ground he had to cover today, he needed more coffee—and some of whatever Renata just carried in.
“You’re looking a little bleary-eyed, Toben.” She patted him on the arm. “No worries—I brought food to help start things on the right foot. My brothers around?”
He nodded, sipping his coffee as he peered into the box of breakfast treats. “Hunter’s in the office. Fisher’s at the vet hospital today.” The sound of crunching gravel and the roar of a diesel engine drew his eye to the front window. “Looks like Archer’s truck just pulled up.” He bit back a curse and swallowed his coffee. It was too early for Archer. He and his cousin, a know-it-all sonofabitch, didn’t always see eye to eye. Yes, Archer was better now that he had Eden and the girls. But when it came to work, he was still the same old insufferable ass he’d always been.
“Pull an all-nighter?” she asked, smiling.
“I wish,” he mumbled, taking a hearty bite out of a sausage pastry.
“Don’t tell me Toben Boone was turned down.” Renata sat in the chair beside him.
He shook his head and rested his elbows on the long wooden table. After he’d forced himself to leave Poppy’s place, he’d been unable to sleep. He replayed every second with his son—over and over. He lay in his bunk, his mind racing with questions he wanted answered. Stupid things like Rowdy’s bedtime routine. Did he have one, growing up on the circuit? What was his favorite food? He’d said he liked pie but Toben didn’t know if he was being polite or honest. Did he like rope tricks? Know how to play horseshoes? Was he left-handed, like Toben was?
He wanted to know more. To see more.
Rowdy’s smile. His laugh. He was a fine boy. Poppy had done a good job.
But once he started thinking about Poppy, things got mixed up. It’d be easier if she weren’t...Poppy. But she was. She was the same. And now she was the mother of his son. And while he was undeniably proud of his son, Poppy’s part in this turn of events was a raw and open wound.
He slammed his coffee cup down on the table with unexpected force.
“Still stewing?” Deacon asked, entering the break room and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Archer trailed behind.
“Hush,” Renata said. “I don’t know what’s eating him, but it’s too early to pick. Be nice, boys.”
Toben shot his cousin a grin, accepting the kiss she pressed to his temple.
“Archer, I have an idea,” Renata said. “I know it’s early, but I met Poppy White at Pop’s Bakery today and she might be someone to bring in for next summer’s riding camp. We could finally have an advanced camp, see if she’d agree to teach some tricks, maybe even consider some one-on-one training for future barrel racers?”
Toben sat back in his chair. Here he was hoping he’d catch a break. Couldn’t a man eat his breakfast in peace? He glanced at Archer—curious to hear what his prickly cousin would have to say.
“Poppy who?” Archer asked.
“White.” Renata rolled her eyes. “She’s rodeo royalty, someone that could help the refuge.”
“Why would she want to?” Archer asked, pouring himself some coffee.
“She has a son.” Renata leaned against the counter. “Well-spoken little guy, all manners and smiles. Made me think she might be good with kids.”
Toben was grinning as he stared into his coffee cup. She’d described Rowdy to a T. His boy did have manners. And a smile—his mama’s smile. His grin faded.
“Guess so. If Toben’s okay with it?” Archer asked, peering into the pastry box.
Toben sat up then, leveling a hard stare at Deacon. “Really?” Archer knew? Shit.
Deacon held up his hands. “He heard us talking.”
Archer looked back and forth between them, one brow arching high. “What?”
“I’m missing something.” Renata pushed off the counter, her attention bouncing between the three of them. “What’s going on?”
Archer and Deacon stared at him, clearly intending for him to be the one to share the news.
“You don’t like her?” Renata asked. “I guess you know her from your rodeo days? She seemed perfectly nice to me. So did her son and fella. Good-looking guy and a real cute family—”
Toben stood so fast he bumped his coffee cup onto the floor. He shook his head, mumbling a curse as he hunted down some paper towels. He knew they were watching him, knew he was making a jackass out of himself and knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
So her boyfriend was here, the one Rowdy had mentioned? So what? Shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. It didn’t change the fact that Rowdy was his son... He needed to make sure Poppy’s fella understood that. He finished wiping up his mess and put the coffee cup in the sink, his chest heavy.
He was a near perfect stranger to his son. Apparently this man wasn’t. He got to have breakfast with him. Might even have the chance to put him to bed. His grip on the counter tightened.
“Toben?” Renata’s voice was concerned. “I’m really sorry. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I didn’t mean to get you all riled up.”
