Page 37 of Blame It On Midnight

“Have you thought this through?” Dallas’s expression was comical.

“Apparently not.” Benton reached for the door handle.

“I’ll be praying for you.” Dallas winked.

Benton hopped out of the truck. He shut the door and leaned into the window. “I don’t think your prayers are good for much, considering you haven’t stepped inside a church since we were kids.”

“That might be true, but trust me, brother, you need ‘em.” With a chuckle, Dallas backed out of his spot and headed down the lane.

Benton hopped onto the porch and let himself into the quiet house. He took a moment and slipped out of his boots. The only thing on his mind was his bed and getting some shuteye. He took exactly two steps when his cousin appeared on the upstairs landing.

“Sneaking in?”

“It’s my house. I don’t sneak.” Scowling, he took the stairs. “Why are you up?”

“I’m driving to Wyoming to look at a couple of horses.”

He grunted a reply and walked past his cousin.

“I see why you like her.”

Ignoring the comment, Bent closed his bedroom door and walked to the bathroom. Less than thirty seconds later, he was in the shower, leaning against the tiles as hot water poured over him.

He hadn’t planned on asking Collins to the church picnic, but the look on her face when he did, was worth any of the crap that was headed his way when they showed up together. He was pretty sure it had been the wrong call, so why did it feel so damn right?

“Shit,” he muttered, rolling his neck. I guess time will tell.

As luck would have it, he had more time to think about things than he wanted. Because when Saturday afternoon rolled around, he was pretty sure inviting Collins to the church picnic wasn’t just a bad idea, it was the wrong one.

“Why does your face look like that?” Nora looked genuinely concerned. She was on his bed, lying on her stomach, feet in the air. Her hair was braided, not his best effort, but still, it was off of her face. Dressed in denim shorts and a pink T-shirt with a unicorn on the front, and those damn blue sparkly cowboy boots she loved, she was ready to go. Sunscreen had been applied, and their picnic basket had been prepared by Rosie and left on the table in the kitchen. All he had to do was get his butt in gear.

“Just thinking,” he said, reaching for a white T-shirt. He pulled it on, then shoved his feet into his boots.

“About what?” she asked, slipping off the bed and reaching for his hand. He stared down at the dainty fingers, each painted a different color. As always, his heart felt near to bursting. This little girl meant the world to him, and he’d never do anything to make her uncomfortable. Never do anything to make her sad.

Benton crouched down. He pushed one lone piece of hair from her face and smiled when she giggled.

“That tickles, daddy.”

“What do you think about Dad bringing a friend along to the picnic?”

Her laughter faded, and her little brows furrowed. Her big eyes looked serious. “You can bring a friend because I’m meeting Cameron and Ryan at the picnic.” She smiled. “Then we can both have friends.”

The world would be a much better place if folks kept things as simple as a seven-year-old.

She yanked on his arm. “We’re going to be late.”

Benton got to his feet and followed his daughter down the stairs. He figured if she could keep things simple than so could he. He’d just cleared the bottom stair when Ryland came around the corner, head down, busy on his phone.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked his younger sibling.

“Meeting some of the guys in town.”

“You want a ride?”

“I’m good.” Ryland flashed a smile at his niece. “Hey chickpea.”

“Come with us, Uncle Ry.” She tugged on his arm.

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