boy along with her. I was proud to claim you then, and I’m proud to claim you now.”
They were both quiet for a while, Tripp bruised by the depths of his feelings for this man who had taken him in, raised him well, loved him without reservation, and Jim thinking thoughts of his own.
Eventually, Tripp broke the silence. “Suppose you go on this cruise and you meet the perfect woman and you bring her home to Mustang Creek. Then what? You’ll need a place to live—a threshold to carry her over.”
Jim raised one eyebrow and replied with a twinkle, “I reckon I could figure something out. And any woman I met on a cruise would probably have a few ideas of her own when it came to living arrangements.”
Tripp shook his head. For most of his adult life, he’d have bet money that ten tons of dynamite couldn’t blast Jim Galloway off this place, and now here he was, talking about singles cruises and opting out of ranching and taking up with women who had minds of their own. Not that Tripp’s mother hadn’t had one of those herself, because she definitely had, but she’d been a little on the old-fashioned side, too, expecting Jim to head up the family, deferring to him most of the time. “I know,” he said now, as though struck by a revelation. “Aliens kidnapped the real Jim, and you’re an imposter. Some kind of clone.”
Jim chuckled. “And here I thought I had you buffaloed,” he said.
Ridley whined just then, reminding Tripp of his presence, and headed for the back door, where he proceeded to scratch at the wood.
Tripp let the dog out, went to a cupboard and took two bowls down from the middle shelf. “Go on your cruise,” he told his dad. “I’ll get the repairs rolling, and we’ll talk about living arrangements when you get home. As for the expenses involved, let me worry about that.”
Jim acted as if Tripp hadn’t said anything at all. More surprising yet, he didn’t kick up a fuss about who was going to pay for what. “Speaking of brides,” he said craftily, “the way I see it, you owe Hadleigh Stevens a wedding.”
“ Were we speaking of brides?” Tripp retorted lightly, while everything inside him turned molten at the thought of marrying Hadleigh, then settled painfully in his groin.
Jim merely chuckled again.
So it was up to Tripp to keep things going. “Maybe you’ve got marriage on your mind,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I do.” He took the lid off the Crock-Pot, ladled a healthy portion into one of the bowls and brought it to Jim.
“Hmm,” Jim said.
Outside the back door, Ridley yelped companionably and Tripp let him in, then gave him his kibble ration and a fresh bowl of water.
“Hmm yourself,” Tripp told his dad, dishing up some stew for himself. One thing about ranch work and fresh September air—the combination made a man hungry as all get-out.
“You’d sure make some dandy babies, the two of you,” Jim ruminated between bites of stew.
Tripp pictured Hadleigh in his bed. He wasn’t proud of it, but this was nothing new, since, on some level, he’d been fantasizing about her for ten years—or more. In the vision, she was warm and flushed and impishly willing. He imagined conceiving a child with her, the two of them bringing up a son or a daughter or better yet, several of each, raising them to be good people, right here in this venerable old house, where he’d grown up.
And his need for her slammed into him, all but doubled him over.
“She’s not exactly my biggest fan,” he said in a reasonable voice, and this was a reminder directed to himself as much as it was to Jim.
Jim smiled, his spoon poised halfway between his mouth and the bowl. “Oh, I bet you could win her over if you tried,” he said. “Why do you think a beauty like Hadleigh is still single after all this time? You think she let you haul her out of that church like a sack of potatoes way back when, and right in the middle of the wedding of the year, no less, because she
They were both quiet for a while, Tripp bruised by the depths of his feelings for this man who had taken him in, raised him well, loved him without reservation, and Jim thinking thoughts of his own.
Eventually, Tripp broke the silence. “Suppose you go on this cruise and you meet the perfect woman and you bring her home to Mustang Creek. Then what? You’ll need a place to live—a threshold to carry her over.”
Jim raised one eyebrow and replied with a twinkle, “I reckon I could figure something out. And any woman I met on a cruise would probably have a few ideas of her own when it came to living arrangements.”
Tripp shook his head. For most of his adult life, he’d have bet money that ten tons of dynamite couldn’t blast Jim Galloway off this place, and now here he was, talking about singles cruises and opting out of ranching and taking up with women who had minds of their own. Not that Tripp’s mother hadn’t had one of those herself, because she definitely had, but she’d been a little on the old-fashioned side, too, expecting Jim to head up the family, deferring to him most of the time. “I know,” he said now, as though struck by a revelation. “Aliens kidnapped the real Jim, and you’re an imposter. Some kind of clone.”
Jim chuckled. “And here I thought I had you buffaloed,” he said.
Ridley whined just then, reminding Tripp of his presence, and headed for the back door, where he proceeded to scratch at the wood.
Tripp let the dog out, went to a cupboard and took two bowls down from the middle shelf. “Go on your cruise,” he told his dad. “I’ll get the repairs rolling, and we’ll talk about living arrangements when you get home. As for the expenses involved, let me worry about that.”
Jim acted as if Tripp hadn’t said anything at all. More surprising yet, he didn’t kick up a fuss about who was going to pay for what. “Speaking of brides,” he said craftily, “the way I see it, you owe Hadleigh Stevens a wedding.”
“ Were we speaking of brides?” Tripp retorted lightly, while everything inside him turned molten at the thought of marrying Hadleigh, then settled painfully in his groin.
Jim merely chuckled again.
So it was up to Tripp to keep things going. “Maybe you’ve got marriage on your mind,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I do.” He took the lid off the Crock-Pot, ladled a healthy portion into one of the bowls and brought it to Jim.
“Hmm,” Jim said.
Outside the back door, Ridley yelped companionably and Tripp let him in, then gave him his kibble ration and a fresh bowl of water.
“Hmm yourself,” Tripp told his dad, dishing up some stew for himself. One thing about ranch work and fresh September air—the combination made a man hungry as all get-out.
“You’d sure make some dandy babies, the two of you,” Jim ruminated between bites of stew.
Tripp pictured Hadleigh in his bed. He wasn’t proud of it, but this was nothing new, since, on some level, he’d been fantasizing about her for ten years—or more. In the vision, she was warm and flushed and impishly willing. He imagined conceiving a child with her, the two of them bringing up a son or a daughter or better yet, several of each, raising them to be good people, right here in this venerable old house, where he’d grown up.
And his need for her slammed into him, all but doubled him over.
“She’s not exactly my biggest fan,” he said in a reasonable voice, and this was a reminder directed to himself as much as it was to Jim.
Jim smiled, his spoon poised halfway between his mouth and the bowl. “Oh, I bet you could win her over if you tried,” he said. “Why do you think a beauty like Hadleigh is still single after all this time? You think she let you haul her out of that church like a sack of potatoes way back when, and right in the middle of the wedding of the year, no less, because she
Similar Books
