Her Texas Rodeo Cowboy. Trish Milburn

busting?” a boy named Enrique asked. There was such a light in his dark eyes and excitement in his question that Sloane hated to burst his bubble.

      “Sorry, but no.”

      “Why not?”

      She glanced at Jason to find him watching her, also waiting for the answer to Enrique’s question.

      “We don’t have sheep, for one.” Not to mention the safety equipment and the level of liability insurance that such an event would require. Or the money for any of those things.

      The looks and sounds of disappointment rekindled her irritation, not at the kids but at Jason for bringing up the topic in the first place.

      Okay, so he was just answering a question, but still. What kid could resist the idea of riding a big, fluffy sheep? Heck, she would have totally done that as a kid if the opportunity had been there.

      “I’m sure you’re going to be doing a bunch of other fun stuff this weekend,” Jason said.

      Sloane gradually relaxed again as she watched the continued exchange between Jason and the kids. He never acted as if any of their questions were stupid, and he didn’t talk down to them. It made her wonder if he had kids of his own. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean anything. Some of the rodeo guys were probably like sailors with a girl in every port.

      By the time her mom rang the bell signaling lunch was ready, Sloane had learned that Jason was from Idaho, he’d been competing as a professional since he was eighteen and he’d had six broken bones thanks to his career choice.

      Angel herded the kids toward a couple of picnic tables next to the grilling station near the house.

      “Are you eating with us?” Phoebe asked as she slipped her little hand into Jason’s.

      He smiled down at the girl. “I don’t think they planned for the extra mouth to feed.”

      Sloane huffed at that. “You’ve never met my mother and her penchant for making twice as much food as needed.”

      “Please,” Phoebe said.

      “Well, how can I say no to such a nice invitation?”

      Phoebe’s lips stretched into a huge smile, and damn if Sloane didn’t have to fight to keep from doing the same thing.

      Phoebe shot off toward the picnic area as if she hadn’t eaten both a hearty breakfast and a midmorning pastry.

      Jason chuckled. “Sweet kids.”

      “Yeah. And resilient.”

      He gave her a questioning look.

      “They all come from tough backgrounds. Some are from struggling, low-income homes. Several are in foster care for one reason or another. All of them have had to face more than they should at their age.”

      “That’s sad.”

      “It is. They seem to like you though.”

      “And that annoys you.”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “You didn’t have to.” He grinned at her as he grabbed a ham-and-cheese sandwich and a couple of her mom’s homemade oatmeal cookies.

      “Sorry. I just don’t know you, and these kids’ safety is my responsibility.”

      “So this has nothing to do with the fact that your sister is trying to set us up?”

      “Well, there goes my hope that it was obvious only to me.”

      “It’s not a bad idea. I’m a decent guy.”

      “Perhaps you are, but you’re also going to be long gone by tomorrow night.” And her record of picking guys to date was far from stellar.

      He nodded. “Fair enough.”

      Well, that reaction was unexpected. She’d thought he might try to encourage her to live a little, have some harmless fun. She wasn’t a fuddy-duddy and wasn’t on the hunt for a forever kind of guy, but she also wasn’t hot on the idea of being with a guy who’d no doubt been with several women before her and would be with several afterward. She wasn’t judging that choice. It just wasn’t for her.

      Of course, she often doubted a serious relationship was for her either. She’d seen at a young age what loving someone too much could do to a person. The one time she’d believed she might have a future with a guy, she’d been proven wrong in a way that still stung years later. The relationships since then had really ended before they started.

      They walked toward one of the picnic tables. Though her father and Neil had ridden out partway through Jason’s Q and A with the campers, Ben was still keeping an eye on things from outside his saddle shop. And it was a safe bet that Adam was lurking nearby, too.

      “I’m guessing your brothers have scared off a number of dates for you and Angel over the years.”

      “They try, the annoying brats. But Angel and I can hold our own.”

      “That does not surprise me.”

      “You don’t even know us.”

      “Call it gut instinct.”

      They sat in silence long enough for each of them to eat their sandwiches. She listened to Daron at the opposite end of the table talking to a couple other boys about how he could ride a sheep all day and not fall off. He was so animated that she had to hide a smile behind her hand. Beside her, Jason chuckled.

      “That one is full of personality,” Jason said.

      “Yep.”

      “What’s his story?”

      “From a single-parent home, the youngest of six kids. They struggle to get by.” And how heartbreaking was it that Daron’s story was one of the happier ones?

      She noticed Brent watching them silently from the other table. “I think someone is a fan.”

      He glanced in the direction she nodded. “Hey, Brent, can you help me out? I have more cookies than I can eat. You want one?”

      Brent slid off his seat and came to stand at the end of their table. Jason handed him one of the cookies that Sloane had no doubt Jason could eat with no problem.

      “Do you have to be big to ride in the rodeo?” Brent asked.

      “Not all the time. One of the toughest bull riders I know isn’t much bigger than you.”

      Brent’s eyes widened.

      “Okay, let’s not put wild ideas in the child’s head.” She could just see one of these kids going home and telling their family or guardians that a cowboy encouraged them to ride a two-thousand-pound animal with three-foot horns.

      She expected Jason to leave after lunch, but he hung around for a game of horseshoes. He gave pointers to the kids on throwing technique and engaged in some good-natured ribbing that had them giggling. Part of her wanted to be annoyed, but she was too thankful to see the kids’ smiles and hear their laughter.

      “You’re good with them,” she said when he came to stand next to her, echoing Angel’s earlier observation.

      “I’ve had practice with my sister’s kids, six-year-old twins.”

      “Boys or girls?”

      “One of each.”

      Well, that explained it. He was probably used to being the cool uncle, which was basically what he’d been today. All the fun stuff with none of the responsibility.

      “I better get going,” he said. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

      “You have Angel to thank for that.”

      “Well, then, thanks for not chasing me off with a pitchfork.”

      Phoebe ran up to them.