Toby loved peanut butter, too. “I like him already. Crunchy or smooth?”
She chuckled at the question, her gaze bouncing off of him. “Smooth.”
“All right, see? That wasn’t so hard. A tub of peanut butter coming right up.” He bent to kiss her, and oddly, the lust that had stirred each time he’d touched her didn’t overpower him this time, but, rather, the need to ensure she’d be safe did. “It’s getting dark out. Drive safely, ’kay? I’ll be up with a bed all ready for you both to crash in.”
“God, Toby, this isn’t necessary—”
“Quit with that, and let me be a gentleman.”
“A gentleman?” She leveled a knowing look. “After threatening to deal with Howie?”
He grinned and winked. “I know, the boot don’t fit. But humor me.” He pecked her again and pushed her toward the steps. “Text me when you get there.”
She nodded, then pecked him back and wrapped her arms around his torso. “Thank you, Toby. For everything.”
She peeled herself away, leaving his skin tingling from her show of affection, and trotted down the steps, down the walk, and to his Bronco.
“Take care of my truck, woman!” he called, grinning when he got her to turn around.
She took some steps backward, watching him. “Compact car!” she lobbed back.
“Girl, you’re cruisin’ if you keep that up!”
She laughed, and it made him smile to see the light return to her face after so much worrying. He watched her fire up the Beast and put it in Drive. Rose and his truck. A damn fine sight, and he shook his head, whistling slowly. Hopefully, he’d convince her it was a winning combination, too. Before her field school ended.
He flipped his cap off his head and slapped his thigh with it, watched the taillights disappear down the ranch road and eventually out of sight. Pushing back through the door, he slipped his feet into his old pair of boots and snagged a set of keys off the rack. He trotted back to the kitchen for another bite of dinner before hitting the grocery store.
He ran his hand through his shaggy hair—a nervous habit. Nervous? What was he nervous about? Sage. If Sage didn’t like him or if Toby couldn’t handle him, then what? He had to make a success of this. He wanted Rose to trust him. He wanted Sage to trust him. His stomach twisted with unease.
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, man,” he whispered to himself as he snatched a handful of grocery sacks out of his pantry.
His pulse jumped with anticipation, though. Now that he’d gotten to know Rose, he could see a glimmer of that beauty his brothers had once pined for. Both of them, despite their heartbreaks, had said loving a woman had been worth it. They’d had something more, once, and for the first time, Toby was tasting that something more, like an elixir, like a private club he’d always snubbed his nose at until he’d finally been given entry.
This tug at his heart about Rose’s worries told him he’d fallen into dangerous territory. This nervousness about Sage didn’t make any sense… Yes it does. What if you fuck up? What if you turn into your dad—He cut off his thoughts with a shake of his head. It was way too soon to think on that sort of thing. Wasn’t it?
He picked up a strip of fajita meat and plopped it into his mouth as he checked his back pocket for his wallet and headed for the back door.
“Gotta run to the grocery store,” he called to the room, then pointed. “Ranch hand’s houses are out back. Knock on that first one there for my foreman if you have any problems.”
He walked toward the garage where his company trucks were stored and pulled open Tyler’s message thread. Yes. There were more important fish to fry, and seeing if there was anything that could be done for Rose’s mother was at the top of the list given the urgency of her predicament.
Toby:Hey, bro. Got a legal question for you.
By the time he’d backed his rig out of the garage and turned it around, his phone buzzed with a reply.
He idled in the drive for a minute and tapped it.
Tyler:Shit, Tobes. What have you gotten yourself into now?
Toby chuckled, though a sour taste spiked his tongue. Everyone assumed the worst about him before ever considering the best. He’d earned those spurs, but he didn’t like them, nor had he ever truly wanted them.
Toby:Ain’t for me. An immigration question. I met a girl
His thumb slipped and sent the message too soon.
“Come ON,” he groused under his breath, hastening to type the rest of the message, but his brother’s reply popped up first.
Tyler:Jesus, man. You trying to import a bride, or some shit? I can smell my license being revoked just typing that.