It wasn’t a traditional family, but it was a wonderful one.
“You’re quiet,” Iris said.
Sammy couldn’t decide if that was a simple observation, and inquiry, or an expression of gratitude.
“Thinking,” she said.
“About?”
“Does it...” She hesitated before she finished the sentence, but she had started. There was no going back now. “Does it bother you that Pansy is getting married?”
“Bother me?” Iris laughed. “No. Why would it bother me?”
“I just mean from the perspective that...”
“Oh, that my younger sister is marrying some superhot cowboy guy more age appropriate to me but I’m here essentially a dried-out spinster that might die alone?”
“Well,” Sammy said. “Not alone. I mean, Ryder will probably live here forever eating the food that you and I make him.”
“The food that I make him,” she said. “You’re not going to stay here forever.”
“Actually... I’m going to be here for a while. Okay. I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to not make it weird.”
“Oh,” Iris said, giving Sammy a sidelong glance.
“It’s just that Ryder already did. And I don’t need additional...commentary.”
“Oh, dear,” Iris said, opening up the oven and flicking a couple meatballs to the side, checking their doneness. She closed the oven and turned to face Sammy. “What exactly is going on?”
“Have a baby.” She cleared her throat. “Ryder is going to help me find the father.”
“Okay,” Iris said. “I think I officially need to not know about this.”
That was when Logan walked in, tall and broad-shouldered and better looking than any man had a right to be. Like her, Logan was not blood related to the rest of the family. But he was part of them all the same.
“Know about what?”
“I’m planning on having a baby.”
“Seriously?” Ryder came into the kitchen sometime after. “You’re just going to tell everybody.”
“That’s kind of my thing,” Sammy said. “I’m not really known for my discretion.”
Ryder looked like he might end up suffering a fatal surge of blood pressure. A moment later Rose walked in. “Sammy is going to have a baby,” Logan said.
Rose’s eyes went round. “What?”
“I’m not pregnant,” Sammy said. “I’m just planning to be.”
“This place is a damn circus,” Ryder growled. “A damn circus.”
“I don’t care,” Rose said. “As long as there’s garlic bread and no clowns.”
“There are clowns,” Ryder muttered, going to the fridge and digging around for a beer.
The rest of the ingredients came together shortly after that, and the crew helped set the table. A green salad, spaghetti and meatballs, and of course garlic bread.
Sammy wasn’t afraid of awkward silences. And often, her grandiose statements seemed to force them. But she kind of enjoyed that in its way. Maybe it wasn’t fair. To someone like Ryder who had such a strong sense of the natural order of things. But she had been nothing more than a cog in a machine in her parents’ house. Her father had been the gears, so easily capable of grinding her into pieces.
She’d had no control there. None at all. So there was something gratifying about being able to take control of situations by being shocking. She didn’t really care what that said about her. It made life interesting.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Logan asked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Sammy said cheerfully. “Are you offering?”
“No,” Logan said, giving her a wink.
She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d have taken her up on it. A couple of months ago Iris and Rose had been teasing her about the possibility that Logan might have a crush on her.
The idea had unsettled her greatly.
She didn’t want anything to come between her and this family. This family that had become her own.
Plus, she just didn’t think of him that way. He was family.
Of course, as genetic material went, he would be a decent enough specimen.
But he wasn’t offering.
“Can we not talk about this at dinner?” Ryder said.
“Why not?” Rose asked. “It’s the most interesting thing that we’ve had to discuss in... I don’t know how long. You’re just going to find a guy to get you pregnant?”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Ryder said.
Rose made a face. “Oh, please,” she said. “Do I look like I’m someone on the cusp of doing something like that?” Rose was dusty from a day out on the ranch, wearing jeans and an old, ratty T-shirt. She had on a weathered baseball cap, which covered stringy, braided brown hair. “I can barely take care of myself. Anyway, I