“That I have. They’ve done wonders for me, and Madelyn and I have been walking every day. There might be something to this fresh air.”
“And who is this lovely creature?”
Raz turned to find the question came from Wobbly Bob. The man had removed his cowboy hat and smoothed his white tangle of beard as he gazed upon none other than Granny Fin. The man might as well have had hearts in his eyes.
What the bloody hell was this?
“I’m Finola Cress, Erasmus’s grandmother.”
“Folks around here call me Wobbly Bob, but you can call me Robert or Robbie. That’s what my Annie used to call me, but I’ve been a widower for twenty-six years now,” the man sputtered, looking downright lovestruck.
Ew!
Robbie?
And was that Wobbly Bob’s weird way of saying he was on the market? That he was bearded, single, and ready to mingle?
He chanced a look at Libby. She caught his eye and flashed him, aren’t they cute eyes to which he flashed back, bloody hell, no, they aren’t!
“You couldn’t be Erasmus’s grandmother—his sister, sure, but not his grandmother,” Bob gushed.
Wobbly Bob was laying it on thick.
Maybe there was something to this crazy energy vortex scrambling brains.
“Take a breath, Raz,” Libby said softly, watching him as she pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin.
At least someone thought this was entertaining.
“I’ll take a breath when Wobbly Bob stops making moves on my granny,” he mumbled.
“Granny, I’ve learned how to care for Beefcake and Plum,” Sebastian began, and bless the lad for interrupting Bob, or Robbie that is. “I brush them every day and clean their stalls. They’ll be here for my donkey birthday party. Libby says we can put hats on them,” Sebastian reported, pride written on his face.
“Aren’t they lovely creatures?” Granny Fin replied, patting Beefcake on the nose. “They look like the pictures you mailed to me in the post, Sebastian. And speaking of birthdays, let me look at you, lad. I think you’ve grown since I last laid eyes on you.”
“And I’m stronger. I’ve been training with Dad and Libby. Check out my jab-cross.” Sebastian widened his stance and knocked out the quick combination of punches.
Raz nodded to his boy. “He’s a natural, Granny.”
“Is he now?” his grandmother answered with a curious glint in her eyes.
“Five minutes. Racers and burros, please make your way to the starting line,” Maud called.
Bob offered his arm to Granny Fin. “It would be an honor to escort you to the seating area. We have chairs and tables set up near where the race starts and ends. You’ll get to see all the action by my side, miss.”
“All the action? Aren’t you a proper gent? I’d be delighted,” his grandmother answered, rosy-cheeked.
Bloody hell. He’d never seen the woman blush like a schoolgirl.
“Good luck,” his granny said, then turned to the lad. “And Sebastian, why don’t you join us? You can tell me more about your donkeys.”
“All right, Granny. I just need to do something first.” Sebastian hugged Beefcake, then nuzzled Plum. “I love you, donkeys. Run fast,” the boy instructed. He expected the boy to hurry along with Granny Fin and Robbie, the white-bearded suitor. But he didn’t. Sebastian turned to Libby and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, Mibby. I hope you win.”
Love?
Libby pressed her hand to her heart. “I love you, too, so very, very much.”
Raz caught his grandmother out of the corner of his eye. The woman glanced up like she was checking for rain, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Her lips moved, and he would have sworn she mouthed the words, I kept my promise, Meredith.
What was she talking about?
What promise had she made to Mere?
This psychic vortex business was doing a number on this town.
Emotion thickened in his throat at the thought of his wife, but he didn’t have a second to ponder his grandmother’s curious behavior. Sebastian was there, wrapping his arms around his waist like he’d done with Libby. “Good luck, Dad. Don’t trip over a rock,” the boy added, squeezing hard.
Raz exhaled a shaky breath. “You tell Libby you love her, and you hope she wins, and then you tell me not to trip over a rock?” He’d tried to inject a measure of playfulness into his reply. Still, between Granny Fin talking to Mere and Sebastian telling Libby he loved her, not to mention the like cures like benchmark hanging in the balance, suddenly, his life went topsy-turvy.
Sebastian waved him down. “We’re both fighters, Dad, so we’ve got to look tough. Especially with the knobby wanker Dougie looking at Mibby like she’s a pile of hot dogs. I don’t like that bloke, but I would like a hot dog.”
Raz scanned the starting line, and yep, Sebastian hit the nail on the head with that observation. The knobby wanker had his sights set on Libby. “Shifty one, isn’t he?”
“You’ve got to beat him, Dad,” Sebastian whispered conspiratorially.
“Consider it done.”
“And, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I do love you…a lot. And I like seeing you every day. Can this be the way it is forever?”
Raz looked up and found Libby busy chatting with his grandmother and Wobbly Bob.
This race wasn’t only a make-or-break situation for himself and Libby. Sebastian’s heart was on the line as well.
He mustered a grin. “I’ll see what I can do. And go easy on the hot dogs, mate.”
“Come along, Sebastian,” Granny Fin called. “It’s time to get a spot to watch the race.”
“I see my friends. They’re already there,” the boy chimed.
Raz inspected the area they’d roped off for the spectators. Yep, the whole crew had arrived. His entire bloody prick chat group was there with their fiancées and kids in tow. Even Landon had made it—albeit incognito, as always, with a ball cap pulled low.
A bell rang out, cutting through the hum of conversation and the twang of the band. “Three minutes until we start,” Maud called.
“This is it,” Libby said, her eyes glistening with tears. “We better head over.”
“Are you okay?” he asked as they led the donkeys to the starting line.
“Sebastian means everything to me, and there’s so much riding on this race with the whole benchmark situation. I wish I could fast-forward to the finish line,” she replied, twisting Plum’s lead in her hands.
“I know how much you care about Sebastian. I see it every day. And I told you, I don’t lose,” he replied, needing more than ever for those words to be true when that damn Zen Dougie started waving like a maniac.
“Libby, there’s room for you and Plum up here. Hurry, it’s almost race time,” the man called from the front of the pack.
Libby looked from the Zen douche and back to him. “I’m sure Doug means there’s room for both of us.”
“I’m sure he does,” Raz muttered, knowing that the opposite was true as he and Beefcake followed behind, weaving through the mass of racers and burros. There was space for Libby and Plum to settle in on Dougie and Ace’s right while he plodded through to make a spot for himself on Dougie’s left—something Beefcake didn’t like one little bit. Without Plum by his side, the donkey bristled, stomping and huffing.