Overprotective Cowboy - Elana Johnson Page 0,8
a cooking show before bed every night. Ted had relaxed in a recliner in the room, and he’d marveled at how simple life could be outside of prison.
His life before prison had not been simple. He’d been a workaholic, he knew. He didn’t mind it, though, because he’d grown up working. His father owned a dry cleaning shop in a small suburb south of San Antonio, and all of the Burrows kids were expected to learn the business, work at the shop, and more from a very young age.
Ted had gone on to college and then law school, with the full intention of returning to Clydesdale and the family business eventually. He just wanted some experience first, and then he’d open up his family law firm next door to the dry cleaning shop.
That had never happened, and it was never going to happen. He’d lost his license when he’d been convicted, and he had no desire to get it back.
Nate had said he could take Ted to town that day and get some of his personal affairs worked out. Things like a bank account and a cell phone, groceries, personal items, whatever.
Ted had agreed, and as he padded into the kitchen in his gym shorts, he once again marveled that he could walk around without anyone checking on him. Not only that, but he didn’t have to wear a shirt.
He started to make coffee, the action so simple and yet so amazing at the same time. He yawned while it started to percolate, and he reached up to touch his jaw. He had stubble there, and his first thought was he better shave before any of the UO’s saw.
Just as quickly as that thought had come, it left, replaced with, You don’t have to shave if you don’t want to.
And he didn’t want to. He wanted to see how big and long his beard could become, because for the first time in almost six years, what his facial hair looked like was up to him. He could decide.
Nate had told him to eat anything in the house that morning, but before Ted could open a single cupboard, another cowboy came into the kitchen. “You’re up early,” he said with a smile. “And you made coffee already.”
The other man had medium-brown hair with kind, hazel eyes. He opened a cupboard and took out a couple of boxes of cereal. “I know you didn’t have time to go to the store yesterday,” he said. “You can have anything here.”
“Okay,” Ted said, touching one hand to his chest. “I’m Ted. I’m sorry, I didn’t learn everyone’s names yesterday.”
The man had a good air about him, and Ted liked him already. “Oh, right. I’m Spencer Rust.” He extended his hand toward Ted, and they shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Ted said. “You’ve worked here for a while?”
“Oh, at least fifteen years now,” Spencer said, and that surprised Ted. He didn’t look that old, but Ted knew better than to ask such a personal question of the guy. Spencer glanced at Ted and opened the fridge. “I got some fruit cups too. Connor likes those.” He took out a couple of peach cups and put them on the counter too.
Ted wasn’t sure why. Surely the men who lived here could get their own breakfast.
The bedroom door down the hall creaked as it opened, and tiny feet came toward them both. Connor, a white-haired boy, appeared, carrying a blue blanket with him.
“Hey, buddy,” Spencer said. He swooped in to pick up Connor. “I got your breakfast here, and you’re coming with me this morning.”
Connor grinned at Spencer and then looked at Ted. “What’s Ted doing?”
“Ted’s going with Jess for a little bit,” Spencer said, glancing at Connor. “And then with your dad to town. When they get back, you’ll go with your daddy, okay?”
“Okay.”
Spencer put Connor on a barstool and picked up a box of Cheerios. “These?” He touched the Lucky Charms. “Or these?”
“Yellow,” Connor said, and Spencer started pouring the Cheerios. He opened one of the peach cups and handed it to Connor. The child dumped the peaches—syrup and all—over the cereal and then waited for Spencer to pour on the milk.
The normalcy of it all astounded Ted, and he looked at Spencer as Connor lifted his first spoonful of breakfast to his mouth. “What time is Jess expecting me? She never said.”
Spencer glanced at the clock. “Thirty minutes, probably. She’ll want you in the stables. You can’t miss ‘em.”
“Nate showed me on the way