8
Spur set down the tray of cupcakes when he reached the picnic table. His mother had left a spot for them, and he was actually surprised that she hadn’t taped off a section and labeled it desserts.
He loved his mother, but she was a special kind of woman. One who liked every T to be crossed, and every I dotted. Not only that, but she had a specific set of criteria for those crossings and dottings, and Spur had always felt like he’d never measure up to her standards. She’d been most disappointed when his marriage had fallen apart, but not because it had caused Spur to question everything about himself. Only because of what she had to say to the other ladies at church to make sure the Chappell family name stayed untarnished.
Spur concerned himself with image too, but he honestly did not think anyone outside of Dreamsville or the horse racing world knew his last name. He knew they didn’t.
“Did you get the buns, baby?” his mother asked, arriving at the picnic area on the ranch. She’d had it built specifically for family events like this, and Spur couldn’t say he hated it. Sometimes he ate lunch here if he wasn’t feeling particularly social or if one of his brothers was annoying him.
Right now, everything put him on-edge, and he looked at his mother blankly. “Buns?”
“They were right next to the chips,” she said.
“Cayden grabbed the chips,” Spur said, looking over his shoulder. He really didn’t want to go back to the house where his parents lived. It was all the way on the other side of the ranch, and Olli was supposed to meet him in a few minutes. He looked toward her property, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking toward him right now.
“Listen, Mom,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Duke, call your father and find out if the buns are still on the counter.” She turned back to Spur, who thought he might have gone deaf for a moment while she shouted in her high-pitched voice. “What, baby?”
He watched Cayden and Blaine pull to a stop and get out of the truck. They went to the tailgate and picked up a huge cooler, each of them carrying one end. Spur took a deep breath.
“I invited someone to the picnic,” he said, looking at his mother.
“Right here, boys,” she yelled to Cayden and Blaine. “Trey, go tell Conrad to get off the phone. We’re about to start.”
They were at least twenty minutes from starting, especially if Daddy was still back at the house for Duke to call. Spur’s frustration grew, and he glared at Cayden and Blaine as they set the cooler down where their mother indicated they should.
Blaine was right; Spur should’ve talked to his mother earlier.
“Conrad’s talking to Hilde,” Trey called. “He said he’ll get off when we actually start.”
“That boy,” Mom said, shaking her head.
“Hey, he has a girlfriend, Ma,” Cayden said. “Isn’t that what you’re always badgering me to get? A girl?” He slung his arm around his mother’s shoulders, but she just gave him a dirty look.
“You had a perfectly good woman, Cayden, and you blew it.”
“I did not,” Cayden said with a laugh. “I think you need to get your memory checked, Ma. She broke up with me.”
“Because you refused to sell a horse,” Mom shot back.
Cayden looked at Spur and shook his head. Spur smiled, but he wasn’t close to laughing. Mom just didn’t get some things. What she did take from a situation was never what Spur saw or felt, and he’d confirmed over and over that men and women were simply different.
“Okay, Ma,” Cayden said, moving down to the cupcakes.
“Did you get the buns next to the chips?” Spur asked.
“Yeah,” Cayden said. “Blaine tossed them in the back seat.”
“Dad says there aren’t any buns on the counter,” Duke said, reaching for a cupcake.
“Get your hands off.” Mom practically shot in front of him, blocking his attempt to reach the sweets.
Spur looked toward Olli’s house, wondering why in the world he’d thought this was a good idea. They’d had a great week together. Fantastic, even. Laughing and dancing at the concert. Thursday, he’d actually left the ranch during the day and taken her to lunch. They’d spent that evening in her perfumery again, where she had him smell no less than six new samples.
She was getting closer, that was for sure. He’d never seen anyone think the way she did, and he found her smart, witty, and sexy all in one package.
He had not kissed her yet, because the timing had never felt right. He could still see her with her head tipped back slightly, her eyes closed, standing out in front of her perfumery from Tuesday night. He’d almost kissed her then, but his hesitation had allowed her employee to interrupt them.