She shrugs. "Since city boys aren't really doing it for me anymore."
"Whatever wets your hoo-ha, I guess." I roll my eyes. "I'm grateful to be reaping the benefits."
My gaze catches on the time. "Speaking of cowboys, I better get out there."
This thing is all Jovi, but I've been the official photographer since the first rodeo night and those pictures have gone a long way in promoting the event, so I continue to show up. It's the least I can do to help him out when he does so much with the kids.
"We've got four new guys trailering horses in this evening."
Our neighbor, Garret, raises the steer we're using for team roping.
I caught sight of Jovi and Garret's kid, Sam, herding some of them over on horseback this morning from my kitchen window. I'm appalled to admit it was not a bad view, if a surreal one. I may have lived out here in horse country most of my life, but my father was far from a rancher even if he did know all of them thanks to running the only hardware shop in town.
Some days I still wish I hadn't had to sell it after his death. But neither Lena nor I was equipped to run that business, neither of us ever taking an interest in the handyman aspects of it. And Trenthad his heart set on horses, which made selling it the only way to keep it from going under all together.
The current owners kept the name, Harry's Hardware. That's about all I know about the people who bought it from us. I let a broker handle the entire deal. It was too painful to participate in selling my father's life’s work after his death.
Maybe that makes me a coward, but the whole thing felt like a betrayal against him, and I couldn't face the guilt on top of the grief. Even if putting it up for sale was what he wanted us to do. What he specifically asked for in his will. To sell what he built and benefit from it one last time, to let him provide for us in the only way he had left after he was gone.
It still sucked.
Much like standing in Lena's kitchen cooking dinner for her kids does. It's what she wanted and yet so often it feels so fucking wrong for me to be the one here doing this when it should be her.
"You're still taking pictures, right?" Holly brings me back to the present. Again.
"Yep."'
"Excellent." She rubs her hands together. "I can do a pre-screening of the goods before I get there."
"Should I be worried about this new fascination of yours?"
"Not at all." She grins. "It's all in good fun. And only slightly related to my current reading material and subsequent obsession certain book boyfriends may have started."
I shake my head. "I hate to tell you this, but switching from romantasy to cowboy romance isn't likely to increase your chances of finding a real man that can match up to a fictional one written by women."
"Psh," she tsks. "Stop trying to ruin my fun and go find me a new cowboy to model with when I come to town in two weeks."
Actually, that's not a bad idea. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
We end our call and I close the laptop, sliding it into the kitchen drawer I've dedicated to small office space. I've created little nooks like this all over the house. It's helping me squeeze work in here and there while always being where I need to be for the kids.
Right now, they're both in the living room, cozied up on the sofa snacking on apples and cheese while listening to an audiobook. Another blend of routines we're trying out. Time before dinner used to be a little appetizer of fruit and yogurt while they sat with Lena as she read them a book. Taking over that spot from her felt too much like I was trying to replace her, but I didn't want them to miss out on story time either. Hence, the audiobook. So far, so good.
Plus, it gives me a few extra moments to juggle work and dinner, the only thing I've brought to the household I actually feel confident about. Cooking is a skill I honed early on out of necessity and grew to love out of practice. Having the chance to prepare meals for all three of us has been bittersweet. Much like it felt when I did for our family of three before. Well, I guess it's a family of four now.
He doesn't join us for dinner, but I make it a point to bring Jovi a plate to the barn. And by that, I mean I send the kids with a plate. Either way, I make sure Jovi gets at least one homecooked meal a day.
The room he set up for himself out there may meet his most basic needs, but there's no kitchen, no way for him to prepare a meal that didn't come out of the mini-fridge or his makeshift pantry cubby. And maybe scraping by on next to nothing is in totalalignment with his 'don't give a shit about my life' attitude, but it doesn't work for me.
I give a shit.
For purely selfish reasons, of course.
Because I need him.
For the ranch.
For the kids.
