Page 24 of The Cowboy's Bullfighter
The treat went flying, and then Thor couldn’t figure out if he wanted to go for the one that was flying or eat the one in his mouth and all of a sudden there was a giant tearing it up by beagles, which was exactly as impressive as it sounded.
“Dogs, stop it,” he barked and waded in and got everybody separated. “You want to pour the coffee? It should be done by now. I’ve got to find lunch boxes.”
“What do they look like?”
“The lunch boxes?”
Brooks nodded.
He did not snarl, ‘lunch boxes’. He did count them off on his fingers. “Minahas Blues Clues. Johnny hasRobot Wars. Mason has one of them single Coleman coolers. And Lucy’s is a cloth bag-looking thing that’s black and it’s got pink flowers all over it.”
Brooks stared. “Do they have a place to put them?”
“Not yet, I’m trying to build a mud room-type situation where everybody’s got little cubbies and things, but I haven’t got around to it yet. So this is the hide-and-seek part of the morning. Trust me, if there was any food left in any of them, the beagles will have dragged them out and put them in their beds. I’ll start there.”
Brooks looked at him like he was insane, but that was all right with him. A little insanity was good for a man first thing in the morning.
“I’ll help if you want.” Brooks shrugged when he glanced over at him. “I saw a couple of lunch boxes by the front door.”
“Oh, nice. Good start.”
“I’ll go grab them.”
By the time he’d rounded up all but two lunch boxes and backpacks, Brooks was back and was looking at his assembly line. “You want help with that? Or I can make brekkie.”
“Listen to you.” He grinned. “They’ll just want Pop-Tarts or something.”
“The older kids, sure. But the little ones could use less sugar.”
He stared, lizard stare-like at Brooks, who eventually shifted from foot to foot.
“Clearly I’m stepping on your toes.” Brooks held up his hands. “Sorry, mate. I’m not used to sitting about doing dick-all.”
“Sure. I get you. If you want to make us some breakfast? Sure. Go for it. All the stuff is in the fridge or cabinets next to it.”
“Okay.” Brooks had his shoulders up around his ears, his movements silent and a tad jerky, and Coop bit back a sigh. Lord have mercy, it was like having another teenager. And he wasn’t wanting to have to tiptoe around the guy all damn day.
“Look, I’ve just got a routine. Give me some grace, and I’ll do the same for you.”
Those near-black eyes cut to him. “You got it. Maybe I’m still jet-lagged.”
“Uh-huh.” He got everything tucked into a bag, then started pouring drinks. Juice. Milk. Milk. Juice. Juice. Coffee and juice for Ricky and Coffee and milk for Benji, who was growing new bones.
Then he dug out Pop-Tarts and Toaster Pastries.
Brooks moved around him easily, cracking eggs, getting bacon going, which smelled amazing, and pulling out flour tortillas.
Oh, he did love a breakfast burrito. Looked like Brooks hadn’t forgotten everything about living in the Southwest.Because he’d watched that MKR show, and he knew Mexican food wasn’t huge in Australian food culture.
“The salsa is in the door,” he told Brooks as the kids started trooping in.
“I smell bacon,” Mason said as he grabbed his milk.
“You do. You want a burrito?” Brooks asked.
“As long as I still get my cherry toaster thing.”
Coop’s eyes were gonna roll on out the door, he kept this up, and he was trying to be good. Good. “You can have both.”
