Page 21 of Homebound

Luna is licking up something on the floor like my personal three-legged cleaning lady. I give her a good scratch as I walk by, unnoticed by Patterson.

We’ve developed a nice routine over the past week. I wake up before the rooster crows, sneak out of the barn to plow, mow, and water the flower fields, and then I head to the arena to practice anytime we’ve got animal stock in town.

I’m keeping busy, and I’m not about to let Patterson throw my dreams off track. I’ve got to put on at least another ten pounds of muscle if I want a shot at making it in the big leagues. My thighs better be thique by the end of the summer.

“Come on, baby,” Wyatt murmurs, sucking his thumb. “Daddy just burned himself, but he’s okay. See? Don’t cry. Please? I’m trying to make you breakfast. Your favorite. Banana pancakes. You like pancakes, right? Can you say pancakes?”

Vienna screams. Damn, that girl really does have a set of lungs on her.

The acrid smell of burning fills the kitchen as Wyatt frantically tries to turn off the stove, juggle a sizzling pan, and make coffee all while balancing a tiny human. It’s actually kind of impressive watching this one-man-daddy show. But it must be tough doing all this alone.

“Need some help?” I offer.

Wyatt jumps, hitting his head on the vintage light dangling over the stove. His eyes drop to my bare legs, lingering for a moment, but it’s not a sexy look. At least, I don’t think it is… It’s more like his gaze fell to my legs and now he’s too tired to look away.

“Hey, morning. It’s fine,” he mumbles, shaking his head like he’s jerking himself out of a trance. “I just burned myself on the pan, but I’ll be good.”

I don’t understand how he manages to say everything so casually. This man could be in the middle of a hurricane, and as long as he had an umbrella, he’d be grinning.

He bounces his daughter in his arms, clearly trying to soothe her wails, and that’s when I notice the dark circles under his eyes. Those weren’t there three years ago, but he wasn’t a father when he left.

I have no idea what happened to Vienna’s mom, and I don’t really want to think about Wyatt’s romantic partners because that makes me feel all kinds of uncomfortable, but no one should have to do all this alone. It seems exhausting. There’s already a mountain of clothes in the laundry room, and it’s only been one week.

I point a thumb over my shoulder. “There’s some antibiotic ointment in the bathroom. Give me Vienna and go take care of that burn. I’ve got her.”

He blinks. Stares. Blinks again, almost like he’s shocked I’d even offer, which stings. I might be pissed at him for his lackluster communication skills, but I’m not going to be blatantly rude to him.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to do that.”

“That wasn’t a question, Patterson,” I say. “Go take care of that hand.”

Wyatt’s always been a giver, giving everything to everyone, so much so that he forgets about his own needs. He needs a push when it comes to taking care of himself, and I can give him that kick in the ass.

He hesitates. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Yeah, but I’d do that for anyone. Don’t go feeling special or anything.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, but I actually wouldn’t offer to do this for just anyone. I’m doing this for him. “You know I’ve always loved kids.”

“Yeah, you always did love giving all my younger cousins piggyback rides growing up,” he says.

I shrug. “Kids are a good time. They’re direct, tell it like it is, and they don’t bullshit you.”

Of course, they can be a handful, but I always wondered what it would be like to have a big, boisterous family since it was only me and my dad growing up.

When I was young, my mother divorced him for a travel vlogger, @TreytheTrekker, but I don’t blame her. She was never one for the small-town life, and I’m glad she’s living it up in her forties.

She’s always been a free spirit, which is why she travels the world with @TreytheTrekker’s backpack. But my mom never misses our Sunday phone calls no matter where she is in the world, and I love her for that.

Wyatt’s throat bobs. “Thanks for offering, but Vi’s in a mood this morning. I think she’s got a molar coming in or something. You don’t have to hold her. She’ll just scream louder, and your ears will be ringing all day.”

I roll my eyes, holding out my arms. “If I can wrangle a bull, I can wrangle a toddler. Give her to me and go take care of your hand. I want to help. We should probably get better acquainted anyway if you’re going to be here for the next two months.”

Wyatt seems to have a moment of indecision. He looks down at the burning pancakes, then back up at me, and then does that three more times until he turns off the stove.

“You sure?” he raises his voice over Vienna’s snotty screams.

I wiggle my fingers in a give-her-to-me motion. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll take care of your girl while you take care of that burn.”

“Okay…” He nods to himself. “Okay, thanks. She likes looking at ceiling fans too, so if she doesn’t calm down, just stick her under a fan. She’ll go right into this hypnotic baby trance.”