we’ll eat at two on Sunday.” He was finding he liked to nap on Sundays and watch movies, and the kids loved to eat breakfast for late supper.
“Sounds good. I’ll be there.” Pooter waved to him, nodded, and settled in for more coffee.
He headed up the way to the square. Deb wasn’t open for another hour. Damn it. When he peered in the window, she waved at him, though, and came to let him in. “Brent! Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Fine. It just never occurred to me it was so early.”
“You need something specific, honey? I can help you out.” God, her cotton-candy hair was jacked to Jesus.
“Well, I want to do something nice for the new hand I hired.” He held up a hand when she frowned and opened up her mouth. “He’s kind of a nanny, housekeeper, and chicken wrangler, and I want to get him something foodie. To be nice.”
“Oh. Oh, okay—foodie in he likes to eat, or foodie in that he likes to cook?”
“Well, he eats. But he’s an amazing cook, and my kitchen ain’t anything grand.” Trace was making do, but he could use something fun.
“I have an entire section—everything from cutting boards to knives to spice kits.”
“Oh, cool. Um. Can I…?”
“Get in here. If I make a sale now, I might close for the day and go get my damn nails done.”
“Fair enough.” He chose a knife, some new cutting boards, and a box of fancy-assed spices. That was nice, right?
“Oh, this is a lovely knife. German. I like the Japanese ones too, as they hold a slightly better edge, but this one is so balanced.” Deb chattered, which was good, because he had to trust that Trace would like all this.
He wondered what it said that he was so eager to reward Trace, spoil him. Maybe that the man had been through some tough times and was doing a lot for his family. Maybe part of it was Trace was sweet and kind and hot and that had been lacking in his life, but Brent didn’t want to be weird about it. He wanted Trace to stay. He needed it. He was beginning to feel like a real dog again. Just…life was brighter.
“That’s a nice gift, honey. Did you want a card?” Deb was looking at him like a squirrel looking at a new kind of nut. Curious.
“Nah. I’m good. Thanks, though.” He was not going to blush. He wasn’t.
“Okay. Well, here we go.” She showed him the total rather than saying it, but he didn’t bat an eye. Trace had teased him about his crap knives and how dangerous they were.
“Good deal. Thank you, ma’am. You can go get that pedicure now.”
“I will!” She grabbed his arm to hold him in place while she kissed his cheek. “Thank you! I hope he likes them.”
“I do too.” He put his sunglasses on and tipped his hat, his cheeks lit up. “You have a good day, ma’am.”
“You too, honey.”
Brent headed out so he could get back to the ranch. Well, that would be all over town by noon, but it would be worth it if Trace liked the stuff.
He felt a little like a teenager asking someone out for the first time. Butterflies circled in his belly, and he had that almost hard sensation in his cock, which he decided not to be embarrassed about.
Trace was queer, so was he, and how on earth was he supposed to not lust after this wild, interesting, nurturing man? Brent knew he had to not push anything on Trace. The boss thing gave him a perceived upper hand, and he would never want Trace to think he had to do…anything.
Shit, right now Trace needed to mourn Susannah’s mother, his job, his lost boyfriend.
Right. He shook his head, then turned up the radio to sing with Chris LeDoux instead of thinking. That served him pretty well until he got home.
That was when he pulled up to the ranch to find all the kids outside playing in the sprinklers, with Trace in a pair of swim shorts holding Daisy at the edge of the spray, her laughter filling the air.
Oh Lord. That did not help him put away those thoughts one bit. In fact, he’d never seen anything sexier than that man laughing with his kids.
“Daddy Brent! Daddy Brent, we’re playing in the water!” Caro looked utterly ecstatic.
“You are! Is it cold?” He pulled his bags out of the truck, just chuckling madly.
“It makes rainbows!”
Trace winked over at him. “We