Zero Forks - Cat Johnson Page 0,28
I kind of hate working with them.”
“And how was your day?” I asked, intrigued by his initiating this surreal conversation.
“It was good. I brought Stewie to the farm. He learned how to feed the horses. And drive a tractor. He loves animals, by the way.”
I lifted a brow. “I bet he does. You know, he’s never going to want to go back to apartment life after you spoil him so on the farm, right?”
“Sorry.” He grinned and lifted one shoulder.
“You don’t look all that sorry,” I observed.
“Every child should get to spend at least some time on a farm.”
“You’re right.” I couldn’t argue with him.
He was good with Stewie. More than that, he was also good for Stewie. I had to trust his decisions. I also needed him to know how grateful I was.
“Thank you for everything you’re doing with him. My mother’s right. I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own without your help.”
He waved away my thanks. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re wrong. It’s everything. You’re really good with him. You’re a natural—” The sound of nails on the wood floors followed by the squeak of rubber sneaker soles caught my attention. My gaze shot to the doorway where I saw Stewie and the dog from last night. I looked toward Boone. “Do we own this dog now?”
“No. He’s just on loan for the night.” Standing, he glanced back at me and added, “Hey, even a natural needs a little help sometimes.”
I couldn't fight him on that either. “I guess so.”
Scooping up Stewie, Boone braced him on one hip and turned toward me. “Since dinner’s almost ready, I’m thinking I’ll help him wash his hands right quick now and then give him a bath after we eat. Then he can go right to bed afterward.”
“Um, okay. Thank you.” I really didn’t give Boone enough credit. He handled so much around here. So much more than he was hired for. “Dinner smells good.”
He grinned at the compliment. “I grabbed some stuff from the farm stand.”
“You’re really going to have to let me reimburse—"
“Nope,” he said as he turned toward the doorway. "Come on, bud. To the sink we go. We have to wash our hands for dinner.”
“Romeo too!” Stewie proclaimed.
“Okay.” He laughed. “Romeo too.”
Boone’s cell phone was clutched in Stewie’s tiny fist. I heard the movie still playing.
When he twisted in Boone’s arms to look for the dog, the phone flew right out of his hand, landing on the floor with a thud.
“Shit. Fuck.” My eyes got wide as those very adult four-letter words also flew, right out of Stewie’s little mouth.
Boone froze just as I had, both of us deciding what to do. How to react.
“Um, so we also need to talk about that.” Boone cringed.
I drew in a breath. “We can discuss that after he goes to bed.”
He nodded, then glanced at the bottle. “You might want to have a little more wine before we have that conversation.”
I had a feeling he might be right.
We ate a wonderful dinner—sausage with peppers and onions, all from Boone’s family’s farm market. Stewie had a hot dog with ketchup and managed to wear most of it on his shirt, not to mention his face and hands, so Boone took him upstairs to the tub.
By the time Boone came downstairs from giving Stewie a bath and tucking him in for bed, I was seated at the kitchen island, elbow deep in my bag filled with the papers I’d brought home with me.
“So about the cussing.” He looked miserable as he came around to stand in front of me. “I have to explain. I’m just not used to having him around. And especially at the farm, around my brothers. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how bad I feel.”
“Don’t. I’ve said a few choice words in front of him before. Though I usually stick to the s-word and not the f-word.”
He cringed. “I know. And I’m going to do better. In fact, tomorrow I’m setting up a cuss jar. Every time I slip, I have to put in money.”
“Boone, you don’t have to—” I shook my head.
“Nope. I want to. That money can go toward something special for Stewie.” He let out a short laugh. “There should be plenty, at least in the beginning until I get used to it.”
“So he gets spoiled because you have a potty mouth?” I asked, as always, amazed at how this man gave his all to care for my nephew.
“Exactly,” he grinned.
Boone smiled with his whole