Page 41 of Head Over Spurs

Paisley shoveled a fork full of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes into her mouth, never breaking eye contact with him. A Shania Twain song drifted through the air of the diner, mingling with the clinks and scrapes of patrons enjoying their meals. It was a good song. And whether she realized it or not, his niece danced along to it as she swallowed the bite and reached for her glass of chocolate milk.

“Well?” she asked pointedly. “Was it?”

So, she wouldn’t be distracted from this line of questioning then. “What makes you think I was with anyone this morning?” he asked in return.

“I could hear a lady’s voice. She should be your girlfriend, she sounded nice.”

He smiled as he chomped on a piece of bacon. Bi-monthly breakfast dates with Paisley were some of his favorite times. She was growing up so fast—and getting so observant apparently. He wondered how long she’d want to continue this tradition with him. Surely not once she hit adolescence.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, kiddo,” he replied.

“You should.” She was very matter of fact this morning.

“Why’s that?”

Sitting back in the crimson vinyl booth, she folded her hands in her lap and considered his question. “Because Mommy is worried about you. She doesn’t think you’re happy anymore.”

Well, shit. He gulped down some coffee before asking, “And a girlfriend would make me happy?”

“Mommy and Daddy are happy when they are together. And when Daddy has to go away, Mommy is sad until he comes back. That means having a girlfriend would make you happy.”

“You’re a pretty smart girl, Paisley. You know that? But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Ready?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward with wide eyes.

He leaned forward as well. “I am very happy, especially happy to be here with you today. Do you believe me?”

“Mommy says you’re a smiley guy so it’s hard for people to know when you aren’t actually happy. So,” she paused to shrug dramatically. “I don’t know.”

A grunt escaped him. “Your mommy has a lot of opinions.” He motioned at the near empty plate before her. “Eat your pancakes.”

The remainder of breakfast passed without his niece analyzing his life any further. They talked about the new friend she made, how she was starting gymnastics, and debated if they could convince Piper to get her a dog.

The drive home consisted of him pretending to sing along with whatever movie soundtrack she was obsessed with at the moment. But his mind was still back in that diner.

She doesn’t think you’re happy anymore.

He was happy. Did he have the same unbridled joy as he chased down a challenge? No. Because he didn’t have anything he was working towards. Instead, he’d positioned himself as the go-to guy for everyone in his life. Piper, Paisley, his team at the ranch—he had thrown himself into whatever they were needing.And he didn’t regret it by any means. But part of him did miss having something for himself.

Lately, he was growing increasingly sure thatthingwas Jules. But she was leaving at the end of the summer, it’s not like he could work towards a relationship. And even if he got what he wanted—her to remain in his life—did that count as having a goal for himself? Maybe that needed to be something that didn’t rely on another person.

He parked his truck in front of his sister’s home and climbed out to follow Paisley up the walk. Piper waited at the door to greet them, oblivious to the way her daughter inadvertently sold her out this morning.

“Hey, love! How was breakfast with your uncle?” she called.

“He got me extra whipped cream and sprinkles!”

“Oh good, extra sugar is exactly what you need,” Piper deadpanned.

He flashed her a crooked grin and Piper rolled her eyes, having dealt with his charm her whole life and being indifferent to it.

“I’m not sure what came up this morning, but you seemed happy when you picked her up,” she noted.

“Yeah, actually let’s talk about that. Away from little ears.” He motioned to Paisley watching curiously from the doorway.

“Head inside, I’ll be right there,” Piper instructed.

With the front door closed, leaving them privacy, they walked over to the porch swing he had helped hang. Riley dropped down onto the floral cushion and crossed his ankle over his knee as he waited for her to sit as well.

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