She’d said no.
“Here ya go.” Carl put a large box on the counter. “You make sure and tell her we’d be happy to lend a hand if she needs anything while she’s getting settled.”
“I will,” Toben said, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.
“Nope.” Carl held up his hand. “On the house. Consider it a housewarming gift.”
“Housewarming?” Lola, Carl’s wife, asked. “Who’s moving?”
“No one. Someone just got here. That barrel racer? Doing the Western-wear shop,” Carl said. “Toben’s taking breakfast to them.”
“Them?” Lola asked. The woman prided herself on knowing everything about everyone in Stonewall Crossing. And new residents meant fresh gossip.
“Just her and her niece and nephews,” Toben offered. “Not exactly country kids, from what I could tell.”
“Got them gadgets in their hands, all computers, never looking up?” Carl sighed. “Don’t understand it.”
Lola patted his shoulder. “Times change, sugar. Well, if she’s got kids with her, you better tell her about the Fourth of July festivities next month. Most kids still like a parade.”
Toben nodded. “Will do.”
“You know, it’s not a bad idea,” Carl said.
Lola and Toben looked at him.
“What are you talking about?” Lola asked.
“A housewarming,” Carl said. “Bet Renata’d want to set something up. She was talking about adding more events at the last tourism meeting. A housewarming or welcome to Stonewall might be just the thing.”
“Carl, that’s a great idea. Bring all the shops on Main Street together,” Lola agreed. “I’ll get Renata on the phone.”
Toben nodded, thanked them again and walked out, carrying the large white box with breakfast treats back around the corner. He nodded at those he passed, drawing in the fresh morning air as he walked. It was mid-June in the Hill Country. The summer was in full swing—sultry nights, floating down the river in an inner tube, campfires and cookouts. Soon enough the town would be crowded with tourists who flocked here for the big Fourth of July festivities. The annual parade, a street carnival and the big Stonewall Crossing rodeo. Other than actual rodeo season, this was his favorite time of year.
And this year Poppy White was here.
Poppy’s truck was a monster. It was a giant four-door diesel with a tow package in the bed for pulling horse trailers.
Where was she going to live? There was a small apartment over the shop, but he could guess that wasn’t Poppy’s style. She’d need to be close to her horses, make sure they had room to roam. They were her family. He’d done a lot of digging, trying to figure her out, years back. And if he remembered right, she didn’t have much other family.
He knocked on the shop door and smiled at the boy who opened it.
“Can I help you?” the boy asked, all brash confidence, with boots and a shiny belt buckle.
“Got a breakfast delivery from Pop’s Bakery, right around the corner. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He held the box out.
The boy smiled and stepped aside so Toben could enter. “Thanks, mister. That’s real nice.”
Toben smiled back, struck with a hint of recognition. He placed the box on the counter. “There’s a lot of nice people in Stonewall Crossing. My family’s ranch is here. And they’re all good people.”
“Rowdy—” Poppy stopped.
“He brought breakfast,” the boy said.
“Oh. Thank you.” But Poppy’s posture was anything but appreciative. She looked...spitting mad.
Guess the shock of seeing him again had worn off and she’d decided to be her old prickly self. Considering last time she’d seen him they’d been tangled naked and drifting off into a well-sated sleep, he’d hoped things would be easier between them. Of course, he’d left before they’d had a chance to talk—hell, he’d left before she’d woken up. A box of welcome pastries might not be enough to wipe the slate clean, but it was a start.
“You a cowboy?” the older, sullen boy asked.
“I’d like to think so,” Toben answered.
“If you’re a cowboy, where’s your horse?” the girl asked, hands on her hips. “Don’t real cowboys ride horses?”
“Not all the time,” Toben responded. “Sometimes they drive a truck, like your aunt. She’s a real cowgirl.”
The sullen boy sighed and rolled his eyes.
“She’s the best,” the smaller boy said, smiling at Poppy. “Four-time national champion. Third-fastest barrel-racing time ever. Onetime international champion—”
“Oh my gosh, Rowdy, do we have to hear it again?” the girl asked. “We get it. She’s awesome.” But her tone was so grating and condescending that Toben bristled.
The younger boy glared at the other two. “You don’t get it. Or you’d think it’s awesome, too.”
Toben agreed. “And deserving of respect.” He leveled a hard look at both children.
Poppy placed her hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, offering Toben a small smile. “Thanks for bringing food. I’m hoping once they’re fed, they’ll be a little more civilized.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Toben shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Carl and Lola run the bakery around the corner—Pop’s Bakery. It’s from them. Also wanted me to tell you the town goes big for Fourth of July. Floats, tubing races and a rodeo—”
“Can we go?” Rowdy asked, excited.
“We’ll just have to see.” Poppy’s hand stroked the boy’s cheek. “But I’ll do my best.”
“There’s a table in the back room, Aunt Poppy,” the girl said. “I’ll put the food in there.”
“Thank you, Dot.”
“I can’t wait for them to go home.” Rowdy sighed after the other two had left the room.
“You get to stay longer?” Toben asked.
Poppy shot him a look, her jaw clenched and her posture rigid. What had he said now?
“Nah, we live here now. I’m not going anywhere.” The boy grinned up at her. “Well...maybe I’ll go get something to eat. Okay, Ma?”
Poppy was a mom? The kid was cute enough to have her genes, that was for sure. But then, Poppy was one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen. He’d heard she was engaged, so maybe she was married now? Or was she raising her son on her own? Surprisingly, he wanted to know.
Poppy grinned at the boy. “Better hurry before they eat it all.”
“Thanks again, mister.”
Toben tipped his hat at the boy. “No problem.”
The boy ran from the room, and Poppy sighed. “Listen, Toben, he hasn’t figured out who you are. I mean, he knows your name—I haven’t kept anything from him. But...I don’t want to spring this on him. I didn’t know you’d be here. Are you staying?