Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,40

you sit and eat?”

“I can. Totally.” Trace made himself a sandwich with a big glass of tea and sat.

“Cool. I have a few things.” He chuckled, trying not to blush like a damn fool teenager. “I was at the diner, and one of Curly’s old friends invited himself over for Sunday supper. What’s your fried chicken intelligence quotient?”

“I spent my entire teenaged life working at a diner. I know my fried chicken. I assume mashed potatoes, gravy, and fried okra?”

He moaned a little. “Uh-huh. Pooter offered to get KFC, but…” Brent had the grace to get kinda sheepish. “Anyway. So, the other one is everyone else got all jealous, and I might have offered to do a summer party in a month or so.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure. How many people are we talking about? Ten? Twenty?”

“Yeah. Around fifteen, unless someone unexpected brought a date or kids.” He munched a carrot before going on. “Harold would be happy to do meat, so it would be sides.”

“I’m happy to do it. I love a party. Desserts? We could have a sundae bar.”

“Oh, now that sounds like fun.” God, Trace was a star. “I didn’t even have to bribe you.” He got up to grab the bags and pass them to Trace.

“No? What’s this?” Trace took the package from him, that grin pleased as all get-out.

“I picked you up some stuff in town. I wanted to say thanks for all your hard work. We—you’ve been good for all of us.”

“Oh…” Trace pulled the odds and ends out, laughing softly at the chef’s knife. “Thank you, so much.”

“You’re welcome. I know you don’t have all you need to work with.”

“Still, this is amazing. Thank you. Seriously. I can’t wait to play with these spices.” Trace smiled into his eyes, the expression so warm, so honest.

“Good. I wanted to get something you’d like.” Was that his heart pounding a little? Brent felt short of breath too.

“I appreciate it.” Trace licked his lips, tongue flicking out to taste.

“Did you get presents. Dad-O?” Susannah bounced over, her dress floating like a real fairy.

“I did. I got a cutting board, a knife, and spices for cooking.” Trace grinned at her, cheeks still flushed. “Cool huh?”

“Super cool! I don’t touch knives.” She waved a hand, kind of dancing.

“Nope. This knife is especially special.”

“Okay. I’ll leave it alone.”

“So will everyone else,” Brent said loud enough for his kids to hear.

“Yes, Daddy Brent!” they all parroted.

“Good deal.”

“Mmm. That was good tuna.” Curly came in to put his paper plate in the trash. “Thank you, Trace. You want me to come out with you this afternoon, boss?”

“You feelin’ up to it?” He would never tell Curly no when he was just checking fence.

“I am. Let me get cowboy’d up. You still got those good cookies, Trace?”

“I do. I’ll make up some cookies and lemonade for y’all.”

“Thank you kindly.” Curly was off and running, fueled by sleep and sun and tuna.

“He seems like he’s so much better. I’m trying to ease all y’all’s burdens.” Trace watched Curly go with a grin.

“Well, just don’t get overwhelmed.” He did reach out to touch Trace’s hand. “You’ve helped so much. I mean it.”

Trace twined their fingers together. “Thank you. You’ve given me a family to take care of, my daughter a best friend.”

They stared at each other for long moments, both of them breathing harder. Which, naturally, was when Daisy burped and spit up all over her onesie and carrier.

“Oh, girlfriend. Let me grab a rag.” Trace shook his head. “Good Lord and butter.” Rising, Trace left half his sandwich, which one of the dogs promptly hopped up and stole.

“Ringo! Damn it!” Brent swatted at him, and he and Mama Cass ran off to share their prize. “Here, I’ll get you another half a sandwich.” He moved to the counter, scooping tuna onto a piece of bread. No going hungry for Trace.

“I’m still not used to having dogs. I’ll figure it out, though. You have my word.” Trace cleaned the baby up, then bent to swipe up the floor, giving him a look at that sweet ass.

“No problem. Mama Cass used to be a counter surfer, but she’s too old to care now. Ringo will herd you, steal food, socks, and underwear as long as it’s been worn, so don’t leave it on the floor.”

“He chews them to holes!” Caro exclaimed.

“Oh man. That stinks. Silly puppy.” Trace grinned at her. “I bet you love him a lot.”

“I do. He’s a ranch dog. He likes to be outside.