Chapter Twenty-Four
Rule Number 3
No marriage. Been there, done that. Don’t want the shirt.
Phone. Buzzing. Tyler reached out from the cocoon of his blanket and patted around for the noise resonating in his skull. He pushed the blanket off groggily, blinking into the stabbing sunshine… Sunshine?
Shoving upright, he snatched his phone, swiping his alarm off at…9:45 a.m?
“Dammit.” He should have been up hours ago.
He’d known today was going to be rough after getting home so late with sleeping kids in tow—Stevie hadn’t wanted to stay if Seth wasn’t—but today was a big day. The historical restoration team was supposed to visit and write up an estimate to fix the silo damage. And he still needed to talk to Seth, because last night, when they were all tired and grumpy and Seth had greeted him with a scowl on his face and an evasiveness that wouldn’t allow Tyler to touch him, hadn’t been the right time.
All the way home, he’d realized the time had come, whether Isabella liked it or not, to answer Seth’s questions. Seth’s wellbeing was paramount to anything else, and this NDA was a festering sore that had spread for too long beneath the surface.
Texts from Thad at 5:35, 5:40, and 5:49 asking where he was.
A text from the restorer confirming he’d be here this afternoon as scheduled.
Tyler opened his email, and the app loaded, dumping a slew of messages into his inbox, including a message from an email address he didn’t recognize with a European commercial name. Likely spam trying to sell him Viagra that had slipped through his filter.
Bolting to his feet, he thudded to his dresser and rattled off a text to his cousin.
Tyler:What the hell, why didn’t you kick my ass out of bed? Half the day’s gone. What’s the status on the herds?
He hit send and threw his phone on the once-neat dresser now adorned with earrings and Heart’s keys and random pocket stuff, as he dropped his athletic shorts and kicked them onto his rumpled bed, which was going to nag at him all day when normally he’d miter the corners. Hopping into a pair of boxers and socks, he yanked on a new pair of jeans, when distant laughter piqued his ears as he rammed the drawer shut.
Heather’s laughter. His boys chattering about something. Boys, plural. Not just Steven laughing.
“No way!” Heather’s call echoed up the stairs. He abandoned his attempt to finish dressing, snatched up his phone, wondering what the hell was going on as he pulled open his bedroom door and slung his belt and a T-shirt over his shoulder like a towel. “It’s Mithral Silver, duh!”
What the hell were they talking about?
T.R.’s reply vibrated in his hand.
He glanced down as he jogged down the stairs and the smell of cinnamon-y pastries and bacon warmed the air.
Thaddeus:Heart told me about Seth. Said you got in late and not to wake you. Dry herd’s out in the front thirty. Getting ready to farm the wet herd through the parlor. Sent two of the guys into town to pick up meds from vet, the rest are framing in the new barn wall.
T.R. was better at this foreman gig than Tyler had thought he’d be when T.R. had first shown up, needing a job. The sounds of joking filtered through the house as he followed the savory and sweet goodness, the sound of sizzling whetting his appetite, rumbling his stomach.
“That’s so wrong,” Seth said, but the tone in his voice wasn’t that deriding snark Tyler was growing accustomed to. It sounded…amused.
“I dare you to look it up. I’m telling you, I’m right,” Heather replied, confident teasing laced into her words.
Steven then piped up with what sounded like a satisfied sneer, and as much as Tyler needed to get on with the day, he felt his pace slow. He lingered outside the kitchen in the foyer as a spatula scraped a bowl and a utensil rattled into the sink.
“She got you, Seth. See? She warned you that she takes names and numbers when she’s trying to win.”
A grin erupted on Tyler’s face in spite of his inner tumult. Imagine Seth meeting his match in a woman half Tyler’s size, who he was already outpacing in height. Anxiousness to be a part of it warred with desire to lag back and not destroy this illusion of a happy family. It twisted in his chest, rendering his muscles tense. His kids getting along? Seth talking? Willingly? And a woman in his home, showing them kindness… It felt too right, like something he still didn’t deserve.
Whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself.This was only day one of Dad having a girlfriend. Right now it was Disneyland. In a month would it be the devil?
“Yes! Told you. Gandalf battled the Balrog,” she exclaimed. Tyler peeked around the doorframe, watched Heart huff on her invisible ring, as she fist-bumped Steven, laughing. “I wasn’t the unofficial Tolkien Trivia Club champion in school for nothing.”
“That’s not a thing,” Seth smirked.
“It was totally a thing, like Dead Poets Society. Okay, ready for the chocolate, Seth?” She snapped her fingers, and Seth dutifully left her side and grabbed a bag of chocolate chips. Dutifully.