“Not quite…”
“Close enough.” He leans forward. “Am I a good dad or bad dad? The boys wanted to drive the ATV. I was doing that way before Owen’s age, so obviously I said yes.”
Santi could probably stay on a bull by then, too, but I don’t interrupt.
“Gave them both helmets and a driving lesson—the whole works. I have to add, it’s not a powerful ATV so I thought it would be fine…but they ran into a fence.”
That stops my sanding. “Damn. I’m assuming they’re alright since Kat hasn’t killed you.”
“Yeah…they’re okay. These things happen.”
I suppose when you grow up on a ranch, certain accidents feel par for the course.
He continues. “I brushed them off and told them we’d give it a rest for a while. And not to mention it to Kat.” He blows dust off his little piece of wood. “But good boys that they are, they attempted to fix the fence. Hammered it in so crooked, it looked like modern art.”
“I’m guessing Kat saw it?”
“Damn right she did. Woman doesn’t miss a thing; I swear she knows if a new fly moves into the stables.”
I laugh roughly.
“Kat wasn’t happy I didn’t ask her first, but I kind of thought she might say no. It’s tough because I grew up with free reign of our ranch from about ten years old. Had to learn how to drive equipment around Owen’s age.”
“You should have talked to her anyway…”
He’s unimpressed. “Did I ask for husband advice?” He sits back in his chair. “Kids need to test their own limits, don’t they?”
It makes me wonder about parenting with Freya. The female urge to protect is different from how men protect, or so it seems.
“I see your point. You can’t tell someone how to climb a tree; they just have to do it.”
He nearly jumps up. “That’s exactly what I said.” He shakes his head, amused.
I know how I was raised. My parents let me and my brother roam until the street lights came on, and we tested all sorts of limits for sure. But were we always safe? Hell no.
Would I have let my kid take the ATV out…?
Would Freya and I see eye to eye? I’ve led teams. I’ve kept men alive. But this—sharing decisions with someone else—hits different than anything I’ve faced before.
And this is why we’re just friends. Friends talk things through. They don’t freeze each other out.
Just then, I hear footsteps on the gravel outside.
Freya steps into the doorway, sunlight flaring behind her, and something stupid inside me jolts. She is so damn sexy all casual like this. She has on jeans, a loose T-shirt, an oversized varsity jacket and beat-up old sneakers.
“Morning,” she says, a smile tugging at her mouth.
“Hey,” I answer, trying not to sound too relieved she’s upright and alive and within arm’s reach.
Santi rises, brushes wood dust off his jeans. “I’ll give you two the workshop.”
I’d stop him, but I want to be alone with Freya.
He sweeps past her, tips his cowboy hat slightly with two fingers in way of goodbye, and steps out into the sunlight.
Freya steps fully inside, eyes sweeping the space. “This is…not a shed.”
I glance around at my sanctuary. “Just a hobby.”
