His pensive expression amplified. “I never planned to have kids in the immediate future. Biologically, it can happen for decades yet.”
Didn’t that sound like a dream come true? But he’d cracked the door open to having kids. “If I do get pregnant, how are we going to raise it?”
“It?”
“Him. Her. Himmer?”
“Not very progressive of you, putting the masculine first.”
Was he teasing? I couldn’t tell, but his lips were pursed like he might shatter if he accidentally smiled. “Herim? Maybe we should come up with a name that could go either way. Sawyer.”
“I had a dog named Sawyer.”
“I like dogs. Sawyer it is.”
A blinding flash of a smile struck me mute. I blinked. It was gone in a millisecond, and he shook his head. “You’re unexpected, firecracker.”
“Thank you.”
He was about to take a step when a “mew” sounded and my tortie, Sprinkles, twined around his legs. She had an orange nose and her mostly black coat was flecked with orange and white. A furrow formed across Gideon’s brow. He stared at the cat, who had decided she wanted her scent all over his legs.
“That’s Sprinkles. She was found in a dumpster at the school.”
That brow lifted, but he continued to stare at the cat. “A dumpster cat.”
“The cat distribution system awarded me with a cat as soon as I thought I was ready to have one. A little before, really. I hadn’t closed on the house yet, so I had to hide her in my apartment.”
He lifted his gaze to me. “You strike me as a rule follower.”
“I break them for good reason.”
“Those are open to interpretation.”
“So are rules.”
Another smile ghosted over his lips. “Indeed.” He turned, careful not to knock into Sprinkles.
That told me a lot about him.
If he’d been an ass to my cat, he’d have been out on his well-defined bottom. He could suck it on the land sale, and I’d do insemination or embrace my cat-lady life. But he continued to be considerate of her as she followed him down the narrow hall made smaller by his wide shoulders.
Once again, he’d evaded the topic of kids.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gideon
I took the last turn to my dad’s house. The last time I’d been in town, I hadn’t seen him. I hadn’t seen Dad for over twenty-five years.
My stomach was twisted in one giant, convulsing knot.
It was mid-October and the green in the area had faded to brown. The grasses were brittle, and the short, bare mountains were the same color. The taller slopes were filled with dark green thanks to the trees dotting the sides. The pastures and fields between us and the horizon were empty of cattle. The dirt that had once been tilled with growing crops had long grown over.
Some of the fencing was new, with shiny wire and metal posts. Why bother when there were no cattle to contain?
As we drove, memories assaulted me. Mom, riding one of the many ranch horses her family had raised,carefree and laughing. She had a favorite, but she made sure we rode them all. She enjoyed having cattle and farming. She’d loved her life. All the way to the end.
Part of me was glad she hadn’t seen the accident coming. That she hadn’t known she’d be leaving me alone. That Dad would barely survive losing her. Knowing any of that would’ve broken her big heart.
