Mack craned his head in an exaggerated motion to look at the boy’s sneakers. “Oh, we’re definitely going to have to get you boots. You know why, don’t you?”
Bridger nodded. “So the animals don’t step on my toes.”
Mack chuckled. “Sometimes I forget how smart you are.”
The kid practically glowed. “Yeah, I know.”
He had Bridger follow him to the barn, and before he got back to work, he introduced him to each and every horse they had in the stalls. It took a good thirty minutes with Bridger askingseveral questions. Then he herded Bridger out to where he’d been cleaning out a trailer used for transporting horses.
Bridger still asked question after question. His inquisitive nature might have been annoying to some, but for reasons Mack didn’t understand, he reveled in it.
Bridger kicked his shoe in the dirt. “And some cowboys have working dogs to help them herd their cattle. Do you have dogs here?”
“I think my cousin might have one.”
“And the cows listen to it?”
He laughed. “Most of the time. But then there are the stubborn ones, and they just do their own thing. That’s what the cowboys are for.”
“Mack.”
His head snapped up, his mother’s voice cutting off Bridger’s next question. Mack glanced over at Bridger then his mother. There was no denying that his mother was confused—wary even. Her eyes snagged on Bridger more than once before she cleared her throat.
“Can I have a word with you?”
Bridger grinned, then he rocked back on his heels. “Hi. I’m Bridger.”
“Hello, Bridger,” Mack’s mother drawled. “I’m Tana.” She smiled down at him. “Mack is my son. How do you know him?”
Shoot! Mack hadn’t prepared any of them for this situation. He wanted to jump between the two of them, to stop Bridger fromsaying something innocent enough, but would be unfavorable when it came to how his mother viewed him.
Unfortunately, Mack couldn’t do anything to stop Bridger from speaking.
“Mack likes my mom.”
And just like that, understanding filled Mack’s mother’s eyes as they locked on her son. Without looking at Bridger, she murmured, “Would it be okay if I talked to Mack for a minute?”
Bridger shrugged. “Sure.”
Even though Mack had this sense of impending doom, he smiled. The kid had a way of doing that to him. Mack glanced at his mother and sighed. He might as well have this talk now. He didn’t have anything to hide. Not really. He’d all but told Lacey that he was in this for the long haul. It was better that his parents knew just how deep he was in it.
He followed his mother several feet away—far enough that Bridger wouldn’t hear them speaking but close enough he could keep an eye on him. Mack didn’t get a chance to explain himself before his mother dove right in with questions.
“You like his mother? Please tell me that this isn’t what it seems.”
“And what exactly does it seem to be?” Mack murmured, folding his arms.
His mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know I love you, Mack. I worry about you.”
Here it goes.
“How old is this woman? That boy has to be at least five.”
“He’s six, actually.”
Her brows lifted.
“And before you ask, yes, she had him when she was really young. No, the father isn’t in the picture.”
