Miranda and Cooper were already at the house when she pulled around to park in the back. As soon as Gypsy spotted her dark-haired boy, her heart lightened. She forgot all about Wyatt and his problems as she dropped into a crouch to catch her son as he flung himself into her arms with a happy “Mama!”
“Hey, Coop.” She hugged him tight and pressed a kiss to his hair. He smelled like a little boy who’d done a lot of playing today, and she was thrilled to see him so happy. Just holding him pried her heart wide open.
Miranda stood on the deck, arms crossed, grinning at the two of them. Gypsy’s life felt so complete, so solid. She’d reconnected with her siblings, been taken into the family Miranda had created with Marty and Alaina, and she had a perfectly healthy, perfectly happy three-year-old son. Her bar was busier than ever, pulling in money hand over fist. All she needed now was more time with Cooper, and her life would be perfect.
Her mind strayed back to Wyatt. Having a sexy man in her life would be the cherry on top.
She and Cooper strolled toward the house. “Was he good?”
“Of course.” Miranda waved away the question. “Always. He’s an angel. We won’t even discuss his attempt to run off with one of the tractors on the Quail Ridge property.”
Gypsy’s eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“We were checking out the tractors.” Miranda owned a construction business and specialized in container homes. Quail Ridge was one of her newest developments. “And Cooper was just climbing around the way he always does, checking out the big tires, the big scoops, the high seats. Then he found a key one of the guys had left in the ignition. But he didn’t much like the sound of the engine rolling over. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about him taking any joyrides. At least not for a few more years.”
The casual way Miranda conveyed the situation told Gypsy no real concern was warranted, and Gypsy knew from her time with Miranda that more went into moving heavy machinery than the simple turn of a key.
At the base of the stairs, she crouched and looked at Cooper. “Were you playing with the tractors today?”
He frowned. “They sound like monsters.”
She could imagine how the sudden, unexpected growl of a tractor could most definitely sound like a monster to a little boy.
Gypsy kissed his forehead and pushed to her feet. She met Miranda on the porch. “Thanks for watching him. The bar was insane last night.”
“With Wyatt Jackson playing, I imagine it was standing room only.”
She pushed open the front door to the small, two-bedroom container home Miranda had built for Gypsy before Cooper was born. Inside, she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, while Cooper wandered into the living room and pulled out some toys.
“That man is more trouble than he’s worth,” Gypsy said. “He showed up late—with his five-year-old niece.”
Miranda’s eyes widened with surprise. “He brought a kid into your bar? While it was open?”
“Cone of silence?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator and frowned at its empty state.
Miranda took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Always.”
She glanced toward the living room to make sure Cooper was occupied and lowered her voice. “His sister-in-law bailed on his niece. As in moved-out-of-the-country bailed.”
Miranda gasped, her face a mask of horror. “No.”
“Mama,” Cooper whined, rolling around on the floor with one of his stuffed animals.
“I’ll get you a snack, Coop. Carrots or apples?”
“Apples.”
Gypsy cut up an apple and handed it to Cooper in a small plastic bowel. “Do you remember how to turn on the Disney station?”
Cooper started toward the television. “Yeah.”
Gypsy watched him totter to his child-sized beanbag chair with an apple slice in one hand and the bowl in the other. He dropped onto the pillow-like chair and picked up the remote from the side table. Without any trouble, he turned on the television, which was always tuned to Disney+, and contentedly ate his Apple while watching a The Lion Guard.
“We haven’t turned on the TV since you dropped him off yesterday,” Miranda said as Gypsy returned to the kitchen. “This will be a nice break for him.”
“I bet he’ll sleep good tonight.” Gypsy returned to the refrigerator and groaned when she saw she was out of beer. “Damn, I should have lifted a six-pack from the bar.” She pulled out an open bottle of white wine from the inner door. “How about a glass of Riesling?”
“That would be great. I’m in no rush to get home to an empty house.”
“When will Jack be home?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” She slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “When’s the last time you got to the store? Your fridge looks like mine did before I met Jack.”
Store. Wyatt. For a minute, she’d forgotten all about him. She emptied the rest of the bottle into two wineglasses and slid onto a stool beside Miranda.
“I was going to go today after interviews,” Gypsy said, “but when Wyatt came to pick up Belle, he was a mess. The attorney had just explained all about Francie leaving for good, so we talked awhile. When he heard I had to get Cooper, he offered to go to the store for me.” Gypsy glanced out the window, mentally calculating how long he’d been gone. “But now that I’m thinking about it, that wasn’t the best idea. He probably doesn’t even remember what a grocery store looks like. Might be midnight before he shows up.”
“Huh.”
Miranda’s quizzical response begged for a reply. “Huh, what?”
“Huh, you’re watching his niece, you’re talking about deep shit, and you’ve got a Top 40 artist grocery shopping for you. This isn’t sounding like the same guy you’ve been brushing off for years.”
“He’s just paying me back for the hell he’s caused in my life the last two days.”
Miranda took a long sip of her wine and smiled over the rim. “You and Jackson have been dancing around the heat between you for years. Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve been there when he walks in and you two look at each other. The oxygen gets sucked out of the room.”
“It doesn’t matter what happens. He’s not the kind of guy for me.”
“The kind a guy who could melt the North Pole with his smile?”
Gypsy gave Miranda a look. “I mean the kind who lives on the road three hundred days a year and has a woman—or five—at every stop.”
“That only means he’s probably damn good in bed.”
“It also gives him an ego the size of an iceberg—to keep our frozen metaphor going.”
“And people say I’m stubborn. I get it. I admire how diligent you are about putting Cooper first. But you work so damn hard. You have so much responsibility and no one to lean on.”
“I have plenty of people to lean on—you, Jack, Dylan, Emma, Marty, Alaina.”
“But you never lean on us for anything.”
“How can you say that? You built me this house. And you and Dylan babysit Cooper so much, he probably doesn’t know which one of us is his real parent.”
“Give me a break. Dylan and I have to pry that boy from your arms. You never ask unless it’s a last resort. Besides, that’s not the kind of leaning I’m talking about. There’s nothing like love to ease your burdens and give your life a whole new look.”