After the Climb (River Rain #1) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,57

him.”

“No, you won’t,” I said.

Duncan looked to me.

Chloe, who had picked up Killer and was cuddling her, looked to me.

“Mother,” Chloe said.

I kept my eyes to Duncan. “She can fight her own battles.”

“I don’t pay my staff to have opinions about my customers’ lifestyles,” Duncan returned.

“Huh,” Chloe huffed to Killer, then cooed, “So true, what your daddy is saying, googoo.”

“Duncan,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

I gave him a look.

His eyes moved over my face.

It took him a few moments, then he nodded.

“Motherrrrrrr,” Chloe whined.

I looked to her. “Is my daughter honestly standing beside me, after having an argument she should not have participated in at all, but who, let’s face it, Chloe, you probably did something to set it off, and now you’re all right with this young man’s employer having a word with him because you’re in a snit?”

“He was a jerk,” she snapped.

“Rise above,” I ordered.

“I try very hard not to rise above. It takes too much energy.” She sniffed.

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

Deeply.

“You’re very annoying, and thus tonight, I’m not inviting you to my luxurious log cabin suite and opening a bottle of wine for us to make mother-daughter memories.”

“That would be opening a bottle of Duncan’s wine,” I corrected. “Seeing as you’re mooching off him.”

“I am not a mooch,” she bit out.

“Darling,” I said softly.

She rolled her eyes, her indication it was a point she could not argue, and then stated, “Fine. You don’t get the riding boots I bought you so you can ride because I know because I gave Mary very explicit instructions about the apparel she was supposed to bring that you don’t have any suitable footwear to wear riding. And I also know you love riding, so you’ll have to go yourself to get something or not ride at all.”

“My beautiful daughter, you’re acting about eight,” I warned her good-naturedly.

“Ma mère chérie, please hear this and get it through your beautiful, well-coifed, but thick head, I am not ever going to act older than maybe…twelve. I will be a girl with a girl’s delights and a girl’s tantrums exercising a girl’s prerogative to change her mind and be whatever she wants to be until the day I die.”

Duncan chuckled low, which gave indication of his approval of my daughter’s declaration.

Yes, he liked her.

And he might be a bit insane.

Chloe turned to him.

“And for the record, Bowie, I actually don’t want you to talk to Judge because Mom’s right. He’s beneath my notice.”

I had not said that.

I did not get the chance to correct her.

“But I will notice a turkey and swiss sandwich with a hint of mayo and some Bugles.”

Duncan’s “Coming right up,” vibrated with humor.

He then got on making my girl’s sandwich.

When he was done and passing her the plate, she declared, “Now, Killer and I are retiring to my balcony. Mother, you may attend me in thirty minutes whereupon you’ll give me a detailed minute by minute breakdown of why I walked in on you and Bowie in what is apparently lovely domesticity with a romantic fire crackling in the background.”

“That won’t be happening, daughter mine, since Bowie and I are having lunch then we’re going into town so I can introduce him to Cookie.”

“Huh,” she huffed.

Then she, and her plate, with Killer, walked out of the room.

And just to say, both Rocco and Shasta weren’t far behind.

“Babe. Sandwich?” Duncan called my attention to him.

I gave him my order. He made it. He then got on making his own while I got on eating mine.

He did not skimp on meat or cheese.

It was fabulous.

We were both munching when his phone skidded across the island.

“Pic of Judge,” he grunted, and then took a huge bite.

I picked up the phone, and on it saw a man wearing a River Rain tee, standing next to and laughing with a child, his hand curled around the back of the kid’s neck.

Ash blond hair. High forehead. Brown eyes. Manly nose. Firm jaw. Great chin. Excellent stubble. Broad shoulders. Slim hips. Tall frame. Fantastic smile.

“Oh, dear Lord, it’s Ryan Reynolds,” I whispered in horror.

“She is absolutely not his type,” Duncan declared.

With even more horror, my gaze shot to his.

He kept talking.

“Which means, when he got a load of her, and fell, he went up to her and picked a fight to prove to himself she was not the woman who was going to keep him from sleeping until he puts a ring on it. Even though this effort failed because every other woman he meets trips