Fortune's June Bride. Allison Leigh
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white dress and cowboy boots, dancing in some damn daisy field. “Ma wants you in for supper.”
“I know.” Deke swirled the base of his bottle in the air a few times. “Crowded as heck in the house these days.”
“That a complaint?”
“Nope. Just stating a fact.” His father squinted slightly and looked back at the house again. “When your mama and I got hitched, it took a while before you came along. Then, whoosh. The floodgates opened and next thing I knew, we had seven of you.” The corner of his lips lifted. “Now it’s like that all over again, what with all of you getting married.” He gave Galen a look. “’Cept you, of course. Now that Delaney’s planning on getting hitched to that young Mendoza, you’re the last holdout.”
“Never met anyone who put me in the mind to marry.”
Deke chuckled. “Now I hear you’re doing it a bunch a times a day out at Cowboy Country.”
Galen tugged his ear, hating that he felt a little foolish about it in front of his dad. “Playing Rusty pays even more than the ‘authenticity consultant’ business.”
“You’re still doing that, though, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “For now. More money I sock away in the bank, the more I can think about buying that bull of Quinn Drummond’s that he knows I want.” Another bull would mean covering more cows to produce calves. More calves, more money. Better to focus on the financial aspect than on making Aurora happy.
“Seems like you must be spending a lot of your day at Cowboy Country, then. How you managing to spare all the time?”
Badly, Galen thought. His sink was full of dirty dishes, his laundry hadn’t been done in a solid week, and his cupboard was bare. The only thing he hadn’t neglected entirely was his small cow-calf operation. He couldn’t afford to neglect them, or he’d end up coming back home to live with his folks, his tail tucked between his legs. No number of prizewinning bulls would help then, and becoming a failure at thirty-four wasn’t one of his aspirations in life.
“I’m managing,” he said shortly. Then honesty got the better of him. “Only because we’ve got a few more weeks before I’ve gotta start working ’em and sorting. Just glad that Ma doesn’t drop by my place too often these days. She’d have a conniption fit and fall right in it over the mess it’s in.”
Deke let out a bark of rare laughter. “’Spect she would, son. I expect she would.” He jerked his chin. “Finish that up so we can go in and eat.”
Galen took another pull on his beer, and set the still half-full bottle on the green, green grass beside his father’s. Just as he straightened, the back screen door of the house slapped open and Jeanne Marie hung out. “Deke Jones, you get your hind end in here right now, or this roast is going to be shoe leather! Should’ve known better than to send Galen after you. Two peas in a pod, you are.”
“Keep your apron on, Jeanne Marie,” Deke returned without heat. “We’re getting there.”
Even across the spacious yard, they could hear her harrumph before she let the screen door slap shut again.
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