With a gulp, Jonas steps in closer to me.
“My uncle used to say you don’t need to be able to outrun a dangerous animal, you only need to outrun your buddy.” My palm smooths over the leather saddle horn in front of me. “And this is a race you’re definitely losing on foot, dude.”
The gears are visibly turning in his head. If I thought he was genuinely afraid of falling off a horse again, I wouldn’t push it. But it was clear from the moment his ass hit the ground—his own fault for not paying attention and being sloppy in the saddle when the trail had a sudden steep part—that he was simply angry with himself. Embarrassed, too, I bet.
“Fine.” Jonas plods across the ground, dust clouding around his feet, ignoring the small nips Betty keeps giving his ankles.
I watch him with a raised brow. If he was out here with any of the adults who raised me, he would’ve been told to walk his sassy ass home.
The heel of his boot swings backward in a particularly theatrical stomp, and he clocks Betty right in the jaw. An audible smack that makes her back off. Considering she’s a working cattle dog who receives much worse from cattle on the regular, I’m not worried about it. Probably felt like little more than a mosquito bite.
But Jonas immediately spins around, dropping to his knees in the dirt and calling her over to him. He lavishes her with gentle pets, kisses, and hugs. Showers her in whispered apologies. She’s eating up every second of his fawning, licking his neck and cheeks like she wasn’t eating cowshit twenty minutes ago, and trying to sit her thirty-pound body on his puny lap. She knocks the chip off his shoulder in an instant when she bowls him over with the swing of her butt into his chest. He sputters under the weight of the dog’s front paws on his sternum.
“Betty, oh my God, let me get back up.” Jonas lies on the ground, scrubbing his hands over her fluffy neck in a flurry of dog hair and giggles. “I think she needs a puppuccino to help with her stinky dog breath.”
Fighting a laugh, I drop the split reins and climb out of my saddle. His small hand is warm when he grabs mine, and I tug him to his feet amid Betty’s unrelenting attack.
If it weren’t for all the puppuccinos she consumes, she’d be light enough that the jet force behind every swish of her tail would have her hurtling forward. Her muzzle’s shoved between his legs, nearly lifting him off the ground.
“Betty, goddamn. Give the kid a second to breathe, at least.”
With a snapping bark, she shuts me up.
“Okay, Betty Spaghetti.” Jonas smooths the mussed-up fur around her ears. “Let’s go get your treat.”
After helping Jonas back into his saddle, I mount my own horse and we ride across the field. The air’s saturated with freshly cut hay, the sun’s pouring over the distant mountain ridge, and dust from each stamping hoof glimmers in the air. It’s a slower ride than before, with Jonas noticeably cautious, and that’s fine by me.
“I hung out with my dad yesterday,” Jonas says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
Relief courses through my veins. When Whit texted me to say he wouldn’t be coming out to the ranch, I wondered if maybe her ex had rescheduled. And then I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to fuck his kid over again. Kept my ringer on loud just in case a guy needed to go fishing again.
After all, I might not know Alex, but I know the type. While my parents are still married, and my dad is still in my life, I learned pretty early on that his promises didn’t mean shit.
I tilt my head to look at Jonas—I lent him one of my Stetsons for the ride to help with the harsh sun, and it’s ridiculously big on his head. The brim slopes down well past his eyes. It’s a wonder he can even see where he’s going. In fact, maybe that’s why he fell off.
“How was that?”
He shrugs, apathetic. “He bought me that new PlayStation I was telling you about.”
Yikes.That’s not the kind of reaction I’d hope my future kid would have about spending time with me, especially after weeks or more apart.
“That’s cool. Thought you said your birthday’s in March, though?”
“He always buys me things after he cancels our plans and Mom yells at him. Wanna come over and play it tonight?”
“Shit, sorry. I can’t, dude. Got a long drive ahead of me so I can be at a bull sale first thing tomorrow morning.”
Watching the enthusiasm slip from his expression cracks something open in my chest. An old wound never fully healed. The pout he’s trying desperately to hide makes me want to pay whatever consequences come from telling Austin I can’t go out of town, all so I can play five minutes of video games with this kid.
“Hey.” I soften my voice, eyes falling to where he’s delicately stroking his horse’s neck. “How about this coming Thursday? I don’t have any work to do Friday morning, so I can kick your ass all night long.”
He gives me a smug smile. “I’m gonna kickyourass, actually.”
“Oh, it’s on, kid. We’ll grab a bunch of snacks after we finish work. Maybe convince your mom to let us order pizza again.”
“I won’t be here on Thursday….” The sound of rubbing leather fills the uncomfortable air with the shifting of his butt in the saddle.
Trying not to skip a beat, I say, “No worries, I’ll bring snacks. You hanging out with your dad again?”
