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Teton, by the way, is the very best boy. ‘Nuff said.

We’d begun round two of thrown tennis balls followed with belly rubs by the time the knot of bear hugs, happy tears, and murmured conversation broke up. Jackson looked over to me and reached out his hand. I tossed the slobber-soggy tennis ball one last time and joined my husband.

He wrapped his arm around me, maybe because he wanted me close, or maybe because he didn’t want to hold my drooly hand. “Mom, Dad, this is my husband, Sebastian. Bastian, this is my mom and dad.”

Missus Sadler looked me up and down. “Handsome. Well-dressed. Jackson says you’ve been good company, and you don’t look like an idiot. So welcome to our home, Sebastian. I’m Brenda.” A smile broke over her face, and she gave me a quick but emphatic hug.

“Jackson says I’m nice enough to look at, and I promise you, I pick out clothes designed to make me look smarter than I am,” I said as I returned the fast embrace. “It’s camouflage.”

A flash of a grin said I’d read her right. Self-deprecating humor would go a long way to defuse tension until she knew she could trust me. This is a polite way of stating that if I was saying these things, she wouldn’t have to.

His father would not take to me so easily. The man eyed me up and down with a keen gaze that told me not to get comfortable yet. “So you’re the one a computer chose for my son,” he said.

His all-encompassing antipathy left a lot of room for interpretation. Did he dislike the computer part? The part where Jackson hadn’t chosen someone he’d first run by the family? Did he take one look at my cane and write me off as “too broken to be worthy of my son”?

I caught his eyes and held them. “I am. And I have to tell you, that computer was dead on. They explained some about how it works, and it’s damn impressive. It brought me to Jackson. Even though we’re just getting to know each other, I can tell you, I couldn’t have picked a better match myself. Your son is a marvel, and I will be proud to stand with him for the rest of my life.”

I wanted him to hear the words. To see I meant it when I said I would stand with Jackson for the rest of our days. He couldn’t intimidate me away. He couldn’t drive me off with his protective papa disapproval. I would not leave his son.

After a handful of heartbeats, Mister Sadler nodded. “I reckon you mean it, too. Guess you’ll do then, boy.” He held out his hand to shake. “I’m Randall. Thanks for marrying my son.”

I accepted both his tepid approval and the handshake. He did not try to crush my hand. I’d scored a small but important victory.

“This is my other son, Laramie,” Randall continued, and gestured for the glaring younger man to join us. Laramie still had the high-and-tight hair of a recruit who couldn’t yet skirt the rules like Jackson could, and a gigantic chip on his shoulder.

I held out my hand. “Good to meet you, Laramie.”

Laramie hesitated a moment before he moved in for a shake. Unlike his father, hedidtry to crush my hand, and narrowed his eyes when he discovered I haveplentyof hand strength. “Hi. So you married my brother.”

“I did. I’m the lucky one. The truth is, I spent a few months worrying about what my match might end up like, and I didn’t need to worry at all. He’s more than I could have hoped for,” I said, and turned to include the parents in the discussion. They were already better company than Laramie.

Randall smirked. “I was just telling Laramie earlier that it takes a heavy pair to sign up for marrying a person you’ve never met. Never know what kind of family’ll come along with the fucker you got hitched to. Come on, boy. Gonna bet you’ve never met a cow before.”

“I have metpiecesof cows before, but I’ve never met one before disassembly,” I said.

Jackson and I fell in behind his father, arms around each other. My husband leaned over to whisper, “Thanks,” in my ear.

I just smiled and squeezed him tight, because I’d decided I liked Randall Sadler. Sure, he was rough around the edges, and he seemed inclined to call meboy, but I suspected he called all his sons that and probably half the other people he knew as well. He loved his family without reservation, though, and seemed open to progress as it marched through society. That earned him a lot of leeway with me.

Jackson had never been thrown out of his house for kissing another man. I would forever respect Brenda and Randall Sadler for that. A tiny spark of hope lit that perhaps I’d find family for myself here, too.

* * *

“It occurs to me that I came off like an asshole earlier when I asked if you were the one the computer chose for my son, boy. I owe you an apology for that.”

Randall had taken me on a tour of the ranch, with Jackson tagging along. I’d petted my very first cow. Then Brenda had called us all in for supper, and we’d driven in at a bone-jarring speed so we could dig into the ribeyes and mashed potatoes.

I did not ask if my steak was related to the cow I’d petted. It seemed better that way.

We all chatted about Jackson’s trip home, our wedding, and my history classes. By “we all”, I naturally mean Jackson’s parents, because Laramie didn’t say a word. He ate and looked like disapproval caused him chronic constipation. The rest of us ignored him and enjoyed a conversation designed to let his folks get to know the basics of the man who’d married their son.

Then Randall broke out with his introduction to an apology and surprised me. I hadn’t expected to hear one in my lifetime, not from him. “You did,” I agreed. “Just a little, and nothing I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Next time, you come right out and tell me I’m being a dick,” he told me. “I can’t learn otherwise. It was rude of me, though, and you deserve better than that. That asshole behavior is on me and my expectations. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, but… What expectations, if I could ask?”

He inclined his head to acknowledge my words as he took a swig of his beer. “That’s a fair question. See, we knew Jackson was signing up for that Mail Call thing. Not sure we agreed with it. Brenda and I, we met each other and we knew we were meant for each other. I think we wanted that for all our kids, not a match some damn machine spit out. We didn’t come from a time when you could trust a computer that far, and it made us leery. You know?”


Tags: Cassandra Moore Romance