But he’d been very clear. No point in dwelling on what could never be.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Monty sure had called it. When his grandma hugged him goodnight, she asked if she could pop over for a cup of coffee sometime. He had the next day relatively free since it was Sunday, so he suggested ten in the morning. Luckily he still had sticky buns.
She arrived promptly and asked if they could sit on the front porch.
“Absolutely. It’s beautiful out there.”
“That’s not the only reason I asked. I told everybody I’m gonna find out what the heck is going on. If they see us sitting on your porch they’ll know I’ll have the scoop. They won’t need to pester you.”
“I see.” He set the tray loaded with two mugs, a carafe and a plate of sticky buns on the small wooden table between the two rockers.
“I always loved that tray. Rustic, yet elegant.”
“I use it all the time. Thanks for leaving it for me.”
“We’re chock-a-block with trays at the Dorm. Ezzie and Carmen have ones from Mexico and Kat has ones from Paris, Rome, Switzerland, you name it. She was a traveling fool.”
He smiled at the description of his feisty Auntie Kat. “Do you ever get on each other’s nerves, packed into that small space after having houses of your own?”
“All the time. That’s the fun of it. When we lived separately, we had to put on clothes to go find someone to argue with. Now we can argue in our nighties. It’s terrific.”
He laughed, but her phrase stuck with him. Someone to argue with. She’d said it with affection, and he’d heard those women sparring with each other. It was the kind of teasing that grew out of love and years of friendship.
His mom and dad used to do it all the time. Adam and Tracy were falling into that pattern. Luis and Jordan, too. Mila and Cole were still acting like newlyweds, but he could see them settling into that kind of relationship soon.
He envied them. He’d enjoyed trading barbs with his siblings, especially when he and his brothers shared the bunkhouse, but now that they all lived separately, it wasn’t the same.
Was there something about shared living quarters that created the dynamic? If so, and he stayed on his current trajectory, he wouldn’t?—
“Looks like I’ll need to start this conversation.”
He blinked. “Sorry. Something you said got me to thinking.”
“About?”
“The benefits of living with someone.”
“If you want to invite Zinnia to live with you, we’re all for it.”
“I won’t be doing that.” Yikes. Never occurred to him.
“Why not? You might need to wait a few days because it might be too soon to move that foal, but?—”
“Grandma, none of that’s happening. Zinnia and I have decided to back off.”
“Back off?” Her blue eyes widened and she put down her coffee. “Are you nuts?”
“Probably. But I’m not ready to be that little guy’s father.”
“Tell that to someone who didn’t see how you patiently waited while he opened all your presents. You should have seen your face. In fact, I might have a picture on my phone. I left it in the house. Stay here and I’ll get it.”
“It doesn’t matter how I looked. I’m not?—”
“Stay put, please. I’ll be right back.”
He sighed. Once again, his impulse to be nice to Tex was biting him in the butt. So what if he looked fatherly in a picture? That didn’t make him a father, for God’s sake.
