trees.
Kolt hid behind his favorite, not caring that he was probably sitting in pigeon poop.
Heâd been so excited to come home from camp, but now he wished he could have just stayed there. At least then he wouldnât have had to move. And he wouldnât have to see his stupid mom who was making him move. Or his stupid dad who was the stupid reason his stupid mom was making them move.
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âD AISY . Y OUâRE AH , the last person I expected to hear from.â Luke was standing outside a gas station, filling his truck, on the return leg of a job heâd done in Montana. He hadnât heard from Daisy since their airport goodbye. Truthfully, she and Kolt had been on his mind ever since. âStill moving to my neck of the woods?â
âPlanning on it, but the transition is going rougher than Iâd like.â
âAnything I can do to help?â He topped off his tank, then fitted the pump nozzle back on its stand. The heat was intense, shimmering above the blacktop.
âI wish. Iâm having a tough time with Kolt. He doesnât want me to go, and Iâve tried explaining this is for the best, but he just doesnât understand.â Sighing, she added, âSorry to trouble you with this, but I figure since weâre now in this parenting thing together⦠Well, Iâm not sure why I called. Guess I wanted to hear someone tell me Iâm doing the right thing.â
Leaning against his truck, Luke crossed his legs atthe ankles. Stomach knotted, he searched for words appropriate for polite company. âAs much as I look forward to my son living closer, you called the wrong person. Truth is, Iâm scared for the little guy. Youâre being too hasty. Not that I know any right or wrong way to handle a kid of his age, but something about this doesnât feel right. You need to slow down.â
âOf all people, I thought you would understand. I thought you would want himâusâback in Weed Gulch. Sorry I called.â
Out on the highway a trio of eighteen-wheelers rushed by. The exhaust stung Lukeâs nose. âDonât be like that. You asked my opinion and I gave it.â
âNo, Luke, what I asked for was compassion and you gave me criticism.â
âItâs crap like this that keeps me single.â Groaning, he shook his head.
Her sharp laugh bit his ear. âNow not only am I ridiculous for wanting to spend time with my family, but Iâm putting moves on you?â
âYou know damn well thatâs not what I meant.â
âWhatever. Iâve got to go.â
âDaisy, waitââ Sheâd already hung up.
Luke kicked his tire. The woman was maddening. He hadnât seen her in a decade, yet a few hours spent together and already she was back under his skin. Or, hell, maybe sheâd never left.
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âW HY ARE YOU CRYING , M OM ? Especially since moving was what you wanted to do?â
Two weeks after having decided to move, on the vergeof introducing her son to everyone she held dear, Daisy swiped at tears sheâd hoped ten-year-old Kolt hadnât noticed. Forcing a smile, she ruffled his baby-fine dark hair. âJust allergies, sweetie.â
âUh-huh.â Usually, she was proud of her smarty-pants son, but this was one time when she wished he wasnât quite so observant.
âWhoa.â Though moments earlier his crossed arms had read angry and defensive, he now leaned forward with his hands on the dash. On the maple-lined approach to Buckhorn Ranchâs main house, he asked, âIs this like a cowboy mansion?â
The rambling two-story home was large enough for a family of twenty. Until she found a place of her own, no one would even notice she and her son were there.
âSort of,â she answered, pulse racing to an uncomfortable degree. Back in San Francisco, handing over the loft keys to the hip, young artist friend of a friend named Gunter, sheâd