“Who carries cash?” Ginger shrugs. “Besides you, Grampa.” She pats his chest.
“She’s got a point.” Dean grins. “I carry cash too,” Ginger’s grandmother, they all call her Granny Dan, pipes up. I remember her first name is Marilyn.
“I see you two brought my Fourth of July date.” Dean smiles up at Marilyn as he pops his shades onto his face and leans back in his chair.
“They promised you’d make me one of your famous Tom Collins, Dean,” she says, wagging a wrinkled finger at Dean and taking a seat beside him.
“Already on it.” He grins. “Jo, can you bring me a fresh Tom Collins and one for my date?”
“In a minute,” Jo calls out of the kitchen window.
“Coming right up,” Dean tells Marilyn, folding his hands behind his head.
Marilyn laughs. “Isn’t it nice how they serve us now?”
“Sure as shit is.”
Dean is such a cool old man, the kind I would’ve loved to have as a father. Rather than the monster I was given.
“How many burgers is everyone gonna want?” Wade hollers, popping his head out the patio door. He’s wearing a BBQ apron that says,If you’re reading this, bring me a cold beerand his T-shirt has red-white-and-blue rocket Popsicles on it. I have no idea what he was thinking with that one until I see Ivy duck under his arm carrying Billi, their eleven-month-old daughter, who’s wearing the exact same T-shirt.
I hold up two fingers to signal how many burgers I’ll eat to Wade, and he nods.
“Nice shirt.” I smirk. “Why do I have the feeling you picked that out yourself?”
“He did.” Ivy grins. “I tell him that it’s usually the mama who wants to match with her daughter, but he never gives me a chance.”
Wade shrugs. “She’s my best friend. I don’t know what you want from me.”
I chuckle quietly to myself, though a weird pang of envy strikes me out of nowhere.
I’ve never wanted a child before—fuck, I’ve never even thought of having one, not with my messed-up bloodline. But something about the way Wade is so in love with that baby hits me square in the chest.
Today, the Ashby yard is a hive of bustling activity. This is only the third time I’ve been here for a party, but ever since I started helping Wade on the wedding cabins in the spring, I’ve spent a lot more time here. I don’t usually like spending too much time with people, but being on the ranch is easy; the Ashbys are always together and celebrating something. Plus, I’ve taken a liking to riding the breathtaking trails. That is, when I don’t bump into runaways in need of rescue.
Today, Jo has the whole back yard decked out. A red-white-and-blue banner hangs from the pergola and on the big table are matching napkins and plates; red, white, and blue cake pops; and a cheesecake covered in strawberries and blueberries to look like an American flag.
I survey the happy scene around me as Wade finishes taking everyone’s order and Ginger gets pulled into a game of ladder golf with Mabel. People are talking over the music, joking and laughing with one another. There isn’t one member of this extended family who isn’t open, loving, and honest. Until I met the Ashbys, I thought families like this only existed in the movies.
“I need a teammate.” Ginger looks around the table.
“Don’t even think about it.” CeCe laughs.
Ginger focuses on Ivy. She shrugs then stands and, before I can protest, a giggling, chubby Billi is set into my lap. “Time to be christened into the role of baby watching.”
Ivy smiles at me as she slides a bag full of toys over. “People line up for this, you know. She isn’t walking yet, so if you spread this blanket and get some of these toys out, you should be good for a game.”
“Wait.” I’m not usually one to panic, but I’ve also never been so close to a person this vulnerable before. “What if she needs something?”
Billi reaches up and pats my beard, laughing as it tickles her hand, but Ivy’s already walking into the yard.
“I just changed and fed her. All she needs is someone to play with her for twenty.” Ivy’s laugh echoes as she picks up her ladder golf balls. “I can still see you and hear you. It’ll be fine.”
I look down at Billi, who stares up at me with big blue eyes just like her mama’s, and a strange, happy feeling takes over my chest. “You’re actually really fucking cute, aren’t you?”
“Oi.” Cole cuffs me in the shoulder. “First rule of holding a kid. Don’t say ‘fuck’ in front of them.” He says it quiet enough that his daughter doesn’t hear and charge him.
“Shit, sorry.”
