Page 53 of The Cowboy's Bullfighter
“Well, praise Jesus for that. I just wanted to get her some food out here. We’ll get actual cat food come Friday.”
Brooks nodded to him. “Sounds good. Let me get some horse blankets in here for her.”
They got the cats all set up, managing to secure the tack room door, leaving enough room for Mama to get out and Suki not to get in.
Coop looked around the barns, at the repaired doors and clean floors, the way that the wind and wet was kept outside and nodded. “It’s looking good out here. You did a good job.”
Brooks gave him a little half grin, and a vaguely embarrassed little shrug. “Thanks. I appreciate you letting me be a part of something. I’m not sure why you did, but it means a lot.”
He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Means something to me that you’re here helping out now. Kids need family. Benji’s fixing to go be a bullfighter, be a man on his own.”
And God knew hewas going to need help.
“Why did you say yes to taking the kids, Coop?” The question surprised him, as if Brooks had plucked it out of the air. It occurred to him that this was the oddest place to be having this discussion—in a cold barn that was empty, barring five cats. “They’re a lot, and they weren’t a bit yours.”
Then again, maybe it wasn’t weird. They didn’t have a bunch of kids here to listen to them. They didn’t have a ton of time, one-on-one, for the hard questions.
“I didn’t even think about it,” he admitted. “I just said yes when Benji called. I had room and space and…well, hell, it was the right thing to do.”
He didn’t have to admit that really, he was lonely. Like down-to-the-core lonely. He’d worked with a team of bullfighters his entire adult life. He’d lived with his family before that, and then somehow he was retired and by himself. He didn’t like it. It wasn’t that he had demons even.
He just didn’t like being alone.
“You’re good man, Cooper Adams.” Brooks shook his head. “You did the same thing for me. I mean, if you think about it, you just said yes.”
Was that strange? “I guess that’s how I was raised. I don’t know, but I do know that I love the kids, and I’m trying to make your brother proud to know that his kids are being treated right. Loved.”
There was a long silence, Brooks’s focus fastened to the floor. “We fought, me and Andy, because I thought he had too many kids too fast. He didn’t have the money to raise them up. Instead of being excited for him, I was…” Brooks shook his head. “I regret it. Cooper. It tears at me, and now I can’t?—”
Coop got that. That was hard, to have a fight and then lose someone without making it right. He knew about that shit.
“It makes me feel like a bad person, and I’m going to make it up to him. I’m going to help with the kids.”
He tilted his head, watching Brooks close. “You know youdon’t have to, right? I mean if the road calls you and all. You don’t have to do this thing.”
“I want to come home.” He looked at Coop, and suddenly Coop could see this wealth of exhaustion—this bone-deep tired. “I need to come home somewhere. You said I could stay. I want to stay.”
“Yes.” There were a thousand platitudes he could come up with, but they all seemed stupid. He guessed that was why they were called platitudes. Coop understood the need to lay your burden down, to have your own place, a life where it wouldn’t be piggybacking on everybody else’s or being paid to be there. “You can stay. Welcome home.”
Brooks’s lips went tight, and then he reached for Coop.
For a second, this amazing second, he thought that Brooks was going to kiss him, grab him in the barn and plant one on him and?—
He was not opposed to that idea. In fact, he was curious. He had a lot of thoughts, actually. They crossed his mind in the deep of the night when he was alone and needing. But the first question to figure out was whether Brooks was a good kisser.
What did he get instead of a kiss though?
A hug.
A good, hard hug.
Which wasn’t disappointing. Not at all.
Maybe a little.
He wrapped his arms around Brooks and squeezed, being solid for the man, like he’d been solid for so many cowboys and children over the years. It was a calling, cowboy protection.
Brooks smelled like cinnamon and sage, Ivory soap, and a hint of black pepper. It was right. Possibly even delicious.
