Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,34
Walmart-shopping pedophile.
“No problem.” Brent touched his back lightly for a second.
“Meet you at the Dairy Queen? Jakob, you coming with me?”
The little boy shook his head. “I want Daddy Brent.”
He tried not to let that hurt. Of course Jakob would want Brent. Trace almost got him abducted. “Okay, sounds great. Come on girls, let’s go!”
“Okay, Dad-O.” Thank God Caroline seemed happy to go with him.
“We’ll meet you there,” Brent said.
“Sounds like a plan. Thanks.”
Brent nodded, then headed out, Jakob asking to be carried again.
“Okay, girlfriends. Let’s go get us some food.” Trace sighed. Lord have mercy. He was going to have to think about fitting in. It wasn’t about keeping his job.
It was about his family.
Chapter 10
Brent about had enough of paying bills.
They were doing just fine. In fact, the last two horses he’d taken on for training had paid Trace’s salary and most of the part-time hands for the next quarter.
He just didn’t have a lot of patience for the office.
Maybe he would head to the kitchen for a cookie. The cookie jar was always full these days. Sometimes there were oatmeal scotchies, sometimes M&M cookies, sometimes snickerdoodles.
He loved the weeks with snickerdoodles.
Brent wandered, stretching, listening to his back pop.
The kids were watching some weird-assed kiddie yoga thing, all three of them on little mats while someone he’d never seen before had his Daisy on Trace’s bright yellow yoga mat.
“Who the fuck are you, and where is Trace?”
“Huh? Curly’s with Harold—they wanted steaks, and I made spaghetti and meatballs.” Huge hazel eyes stared at him from a close-cropped head, no piercings, just…eyes. “Brent? You okay?”
“What the hell did you do?” He stared. Stunned.
“Brent!” Trace stared at him. “Y’all keep stretching. I’ll be right back.” Then Trace dragged him and Daisy to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
“You—” He flapped his hands. “You’re all weird.”
“Are you serious? Have you lost your mind?” Jesus, Trace didn’t even look like him.
“What happened to your hair?” There. That seemed like the safest question.
“I cut it off. It was causing problems. I have a responsibility to these kids.” Trace waved one hand, glancing at Susannah. “It’s nothing but hair. I talked to the kids about it—how I needed to be able to wear a hat outside, how it was hot and heavy.”
“I—” What was he supposed to say to that? Why the hell was he so mad? “The piercings?”
“When in Rome.” Trace shrugged, and somehow he seemed smaller, less like the wild magical man he’d been when Brent left this morning. “It’s no big deal. They weren’t important, and I’d hate to have one of the goats nibbling on them.”
He was totally flattened, not at all sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? I’m… I had to do it to teach. It’s just hair. I grew it for Susannah, and she has a family now. She doesn’t need me to stand out.” Trace shrugged and kissed the top of Daisy’s head. “I’m going to put her down.”
“Okay.” His hands were all clenched up, and Brent took a deep breath, mad as hell. He found himself following Trace back into the nursery, his whole soul buzzing. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s not your hair. What the f—why do you care? It makes your life easier.”
The asshole was implied, but Brent heard it, loud and clear. “How?” That probably wasn’t a fair question, but Brent wasn’t really interested in fair right now. Change was hard at the best of times, and this was too much too fast. This wasn’t fair to Trace.
“People have expectations. You have an image, and the kids do too. Outliers aren’t super welcome at the best of times.”
“Outliers. I told you I would make sure you were safe here. I’m doing my damnedest.” He would protect Trace just as well as he would any of his family. He would.
Trace pushed right up into his space, eyes flashing. “So am I. I’m protecting your reputation. I’m protecting these babies and Curly and Harold. I love this family. I’ll do what I have to and keep it safe.”
“But you didn’t have to do this at all!” He reached up to touch that shorn hair. “You shouldn’t have to give up you.”
“I didn’t. I cut my hair. It’s like I told Susannah, I’m still me. I’m still rainbows and cookies and yoga with the babies.” Trace actually reached up, hand covering his and letting him feel the soft stubble. “It’s hair. It’ll grow. It’s not me. This is me.”
Brent stared into Trace’s eyes, which seemed bigger now, brighter.