Dylan's Last Dare. Patricia Thayer

under the porch light, he could see she was flustered, but before she could give a retort the door opened and Kelly appeared. The child looked a little apprehensive, then relaxed seeing Brenna. “Hi, Unca Dylan,” she said. “Hi, Brenna.”

      “Hello, Kelly,” Brenna said, and she pulled open the screen door allowing Dylan to go in first. Then she followed.

      Dylan’s gaze swept around the huge sunny-yellow kitchen. There were pine cabinets and white-tiled countertops. At the stainless-steel stove, his sister-in-law stood cooking. His brother had always talked about having a home. It looked as if he’d gotten his wish.

      Maura turned and smiled. “Dylan and Brenna, I’m so glad you both came.”

      “Thank you for inviting us,” Brenna said.

      Maura walked over to greet them, surprising Dylan with a hug. Then she stood back and gave him the once-over. “Well, look at you, Dylan, getting around so well.” She turned to Brenna. “Thank you for helping him.”

      “Oh, Dylan is the one who did the work,” she insisted. “I only gave him a little push now and then.”

      “Using a bulldozer,” Dylan said, and they all laughed.

      The sound of voices drew their attention to the doorway where Wyatt and seven-year-old Jeff walked into the room. He and Wyatt weren’t identical twins, Dylan thought, struck once again by their differences, but they were pretty close, with the same height and build. Their hair color was the same, but their eyes were different—his brother’s were blue while his were more gray. Wyatt was the more sensible one. Dylan had always been attracted to trouble.

      The young boy’s face lit up. “Wow, Dad, Uncle Dylan came.”

      Wyatt smiled. “Yes, son, I’d say he did.” He walked up to Dylan. “Glad you could make it, bro.”

      “I didn’t have much choice,” Dylan lied as he leaned on his crutches. “This was the only way to get a taste of Maura’s meat loaf. You’ve certainly bragged about it enough.”

      “Well, come and sit down,” Wyatt coaxed. “Dinner shouldn’t be too long. Would you like something to drink? Soda? Iced tea? Milk?”

      “Iced tea sounds good.”

      “I’ll get it.” Jeff ran to the refrigerator, then came back with a full glass. “Uncle Dylan, Dad said you’re the best bull rider in the world.”

      A sadness moved through him, but he pushed it aside and smiled at his nephew. “Well, I had won the national championship, but someone else won the title this year.”

      “I told Benny Roberts you did, but he said that I’m lyin’ ‘cause you aren’t really my uncle.”

      A strange protectiveness came over Dylan. “I guess you just have to prove him wrong. As soon as I locate my things, I’ll dig up one of my championship buckles and you can show him.”

      “Oh, wow!” His eyes rounded. “Can I, really?”

      Dylan ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yes, you really can.”

      A smiling Jeff went to his seat across the table, next to Kelly. The little girl looked like her mother, pretty as a picture. When he winked at her, her face lit up with a smile, and a funny feeling circled Dylan’s heart.

      Brenna leaned toward him. “I think you got yourself a couple of new fans here.” She looked him in the eye and whispered, “You’ve still got it, Dylan ‘The Devil’ Gentry.”