Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,46
have any horses to work for anyone else right now, and he could always put off digging new postholes, which was on the agenda. It was Saturday, after all.
The girls cheered, the baby burped like a trucker, and everyone laughed.
“Do I smell bacon?” Jakob wandered in. “I’m hungry.”
“Yep.” That hair. Lord have mercy. Brent reached out to smooth it down. “I’ll get you some juice, buddy.”
“I’m up.” Hal was pouring coffee, and he went ahead and got juice for Jakob.
“Where’s Dad-O? Is he sick?” Jakob scratched his belly, and Brent could see Shane all of the sudden. Damn. He missed his friend like a lost limb, the pain sharp and hard.
“He’s getting some sleep this morning. He was more tired than he thought, but he’s not sick, buddy.”
“Cool. Wanna watch Paw Patrol, y’all?”
The girls each took one of Jakob’s hands and led him into the front room, leaving Brent with two cowboys who had all too knowing eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Anything y’all need to express?”
Curly hid his grin in Daisy’s belly, and Hal just shook his head. “It’s all good, boss.”
“It is. It’s the best day in a recent history of good days.” He poured pancake batter on his griddle, listening to it sizzle.
Trace came wandering out of the bedroom wearing his Hulk pajama pants and one of Brent’s old undershirts. “Mornin’, y’all. Smells like heaven in here.”
“Brent’s making pancakes and bacon,” Curly said. “You get you some sleep?”
“I did. It was the best night…ever. Thanks.”
Little shit. Brent agreed, though. Who was he kidding? “Sit, honey. The kids are watching Paw Patrol, and all the juice is in sippy cups.”
“Ah, Paw Patrol. The savior of us all.” Trace poured himself a cup of coffee, warmed them all up, and then started another pot.
Curly chuckled. “Well, Brent sure thought that for a long bit, especially at the beginning. It was the one way he could get them babies to stop crying.”
Trace went to sit. “Are you super busy today? I was going to take the kids to the DQ for a cone, and I was wondering if you wanted to join us.”
“The kiddos said and beat you to the invite. I’d love to come.” Hell, he could even bring something back for the guys.
“Rock on.” Trace grinned, the look suddenly wicked. “I thought I’d take them in their bathing suits and hose them down before we let them in.”
“Now that’s a good idea.” If they put plastic in the Yukon.
“Right? Ice cream is a dangerous thing, but so necessary.”
“You bringing some home?” Curly asked.
“Sure.” Brent had planned to anyway.
“Do y’all have an ice cream maker?”
Brent looked at Hal, who would be the one who knew if there was one in the shed.
“I think so, yeah. You want me to dig it out?”
“If you want to? I can make ice cream, and Fredericksburg peaches are going to be in season soon.”
“I would love that.” Brent slid more bacon on a plate. “Of course, if we miss DQ today, there will be a revolt.”
“I love peach ice cream,” Hal said. “I’ll find it.”
He had a feeling Bald Harold would go to the Walmart and get an ice cream freezer. The man did love his peaches, and he would talk Trace into peach cobbler with peach ice cream, no doubt.
“Excellent. I’ll get the stuff for peach ice cream, fried chicken and all the sides.” Trace’s eyes went wide. “After coffee.”
“And breakfast.” He started to slide plates on the table. “You gotta tell me how brilliant I am. Let me go get the kids.” He held up a hand. “Ah. You sit.”
“Oh man. Pancakes. You so rock.” That happy look shouldn’t have made him blush, but it did.
“I thought it would work.” He pulled up the last of the bacon. “Daisy okay, Curly?”
“Sleeping like the baby she is.”
“Cool.” Brent went to collect the kids. “Dad-O is up, and breakfast is ready, guys.”
“Dad-O!” All three kids tackle-hugged Trace, the man hugging and kissing all around.
“Did you see the amazing breakfast Daddy Brent made y’all?”
“Fluffy cakes, Dad-O. He ’membered!” Susannah came and patted Brent’s cheeks when he leaned down. “Thank you.”
“I did. Your favorite, huh?”
“I like them too,” Caro said, “but omelets are my favorite.”
“Next time, baby girl. Then French toast for Jakob.”
“Daddy Brent does the best breakfasts on the weekends,” Jakob told Trace. “The best.”
“I’ll keep that in mind from now on.” Trace gave him a stern look, which made him hoot.
“You make good food, Dad-O.”
“Thanks, babycakes. I try hard.” Trace started loading plates for