Page 3 of A Cowboy Home for Christmas
“That’s enough cussin’ for today.“
“Does that mean we can cuss tomorrow?” Lark’s eyebrows hike upward.
“No. Do you have something you’d like to say to your sister?”
Lark’s lips pinch together tightly before she releases them with a huff. “Sorry, Clara. You’re not stupid.”
“It’s okay,” Clara says in her sweet voice. “Sometimes I think you’re stupid, too. Like when you put on a plain T-shirt with your overalls, instead of your grey shirt with the puffy sleeves. Stupid. I just don’t say it out loud.” My little fashionista.
“What’s wrong with my T-shirt?” Lark tugs the sleeve edges.
“It’s borin’.”
“I like it.”
Clara presses her lips together.
Lark gasps. “You’re callin’ me stupid in your head!”
“I can’t admit it, then I’d get in trouble, too.”
Lark’s lips rise. “Guess what I’m doin’ right now.” She baits her sister, and both girls break into laughter.
I wrap my arms around Lark’s small body, hoping one day the memories of her father are happier than sad.
She only lets me hug her for five seconds before pushing me away. “Mommy, too long.”
I climb off the bed. I lift Lark under her arms and set her to the ground. “Why don’t you girls go see if Meemaw needs help in the kitchen. Or Pawpaw.”
“Pawpaw always needs help untying his work boots. And takin’ off his socks.” Lark’s fingers grip the straps of her denim overalls as she stomps toward the door.
“Yeah.” Clara jumps one last time. She kicks out her feet, and her tush lands on the mattress. She disappears behind her dress before it settles around her. “And I’m not good at tying shoelaces.” She bounces to the edge of the bed, and hops off.
“I smell cookies!” Lark shouts, as she nears the door. “Race you down!”
Clara chases her sister, but stops beside me and hugs my legs. “I love you, mommy.”
I give her a squeeze. “Love you, Clara.”
Barker steps inside the room as both girls zoom past him.
He grins at me. “Cookies have that effect on me, too.” It’s been over a month since he’s been back home. He looks good. Refreshed. The dark circles plaguing his eyes through the funeral are gone. The strained lines on his face have eased. This is the longest he’s been away from home. Part of me wonders if it has to do with his brother’s passing or whatever mingles between us.
“I thought you’d eventually tire of my payments in cookies. Especially considering mine are nothin’ compared to your mama’s.”
“You don’t have to pay me at all.” He towers in the room, all burley, and muscles. His deep gaze reaches my soul. I swear.
But it’s been strained between us these last six months. Not like before. We were just in-laws doing in-law things. Ignoring whatever desire and lust brewed between us. It wasn’t said, because we never addressed it. Barker was loyal to his brother. I was loyal to maintaining a happy family for my girls. Even if that meant holding my head high through my husband’s infidelity.
Barker knew about the other women.
His family knew.
The town knew.
And I ignored all the whispers behind my back, and the pity-filled looks so my girls could grow up with everything I didn’t. Parents, grandparents, a house they could call home.
“Fixin’ a toilet seat should be rewarded.” I try to smile, but why the hell did I bring up the toilet seat?
