"Yeah, me too,” said another child. “I want one,too."
The two children continued to beg, talking over eachother.
"A hot dog is not an adequate source of nutrition for yoursupper."
Goose pimples traveled up his arms as he recognized the femalevoice.
He glanced up at the mirror that ringed the ceiling. It was meant to deter shoplifting, but it gave him a blurred view of the good doctor and two kids.Hers?
Of course she was married. Somebody pretty and smart like that. Of course shewas.
"I see that pout, young lady." The doctor sounded tired, worn out in the way he'd come to recognize in Nate, his boss and former best friend. Nate had two kidsnow.
"It's going to take forever to get home and for you to make dinner," a girlwhined.
"I have my own money," said a boy. "From raking Mr. Owen's grass cuttings. I'm gonna get a SnickersBar."
"You can buy it,” the doctor said, “but that doesn't mean you can eat it forsupper."
"Aw,man!"
Dan realized where he was standing—next to the candy rack—just as they came around thecorner.
The doctor pulled up short, but the two kids were oblivious as they rushed thecandy.
"Oh,” she said. “Hello."
He saluted her with the Big Gulp. "Ma'am."
And had to force himself not to wince. Lame. He was solame.
She didn't bother to hide her wince. "I didn't look that closely at your chart, but you can't be more than one or two years younger than I am. Megan willdo."
Megan.
The boy of ten or eleven with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes like the doctor's looked up. Dan saw the measuring gaze he threw his way. Nothing to see here, kid. A peon next to yourmom.
The girl was cute. She had dark hair and a splash of freckles across her nose. It was she who spoke, looking up from her Crunch bar. "Are you a real cowboy? Like from therodeo?"
"Something like that." He'd been in his share of rodeos in his younger years, before he'd busted a knee and realized taking his chances in casinos wasn't as hard on hisbody.
"Are you riding in the rodeo tomorrow?" the girlpressed.
"No," Doctor Megansaid.
He raised one brow at her. Couldn't helpit.
"Not with..." She gestured to his ribs. "Noway."
It was kinda cute that she thought she could tell him what todo.
"I'm not riding," he told the littlegirl.
And then, "You should come,” he said. “To therodeo."
Where hadthatcome from? He hadn't meant to issue an invitation. The Triple H ranch rodeo was a new annual event, one that had come about during his incarceration. He'd be working with the stock behind thescenes.
Both kids lit up before he could rescind theinvite.
