Page 118 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“Dad’s here?”

“Yes.”

Before I could say anything else, Poppy stepped up beside me, adjusting Cora.

“We only need a few moments of your time,” she said, extending a hand with a calm smile. “Hello, I’m Poppy Stone.”

My mother’s gaze dropped to Cora, lingering a second too long before moving back to me. She didn’t acknowledge Poppy’s hand. Didn’t blink.

“Is this your wife?”

Poppy snorted, and I laughed under my breath.

“No, Mom. She’s not.”

“Oh good. My son is running a brothel.”

Poppy’s smile vanished. Her spine straightened. “No. He’s not. I’m the nanny.” Her eyes cut to mine, then back to my mother. “Your son—the number one bull rider in the entire goddamn country—is standing at your front door with the granddaughter you didn’t know existed, asking for a moment of your time. So maybe lose the attitude.”

I pressed my lips together to stop from smiling, watching my mother’s expression falter for half a beat.

Poppy adjusted Cora again and looked straight at my mother. “Do you want to invite us in, or should we keep standing out here while you warm up to basic human decency?”

She was protective. Of me. Of Cora. Of the moment she knew I needed to be okay.

Like that, it hit me.

I loved her.

It had been building in the little moments—her voice reading to Cora, her body curled against mine, the way she’d reached for me when no one else ever did—but this was the moment I knew.

I loved her for stepping up without being asked. For walking into this house with me, no hesitation. For calling out my mother while holding my daughter in her arms like she’d been part of this family all along.

She didn’t stand beside me—she stood for me.

“Can we have a moment of your time?” I cleared my throat and asked again.

My mother studied me for a long second, then gave a short nod and stepped aside without saying a word.

Poppy brushed past me, and I couldn’t help but notice the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She was enjoying this a little, and honestly, she’d earned it.

My mother led us through the foyer, past the staircase, and into the front sitting room, where the furniture still looked untouched.

“Do you want anything?” she asked, turning briefly toward me before her eyes flicked to Cora. “Tea? Coffee?” A pause. “Does she eat?”

We sat, and Poppy shook her head politely, opening the diaper bag without missing a beat. “She’ll have this,” she said, pulling out a teething cracker and unwrapping it with one hand.

Cora lit up the second she saw it, babbling something incoherent before taking the cracker with both hands and settling onto Poppy’s lap.

The silence stretched long enough to sting before my mother finally spoke.

“I figure she’s yours,” she said, eyes on Cora. “She looks like you.”

My throat tightened. I nodded. “She is.”

“Her mother?”

I exhaled through my nose, eyes dropping briefly to Cora, who was nibbling on the cracker. “She’s no longer in the picture. She left not long after Cora was born. It’s been just me.”