Lone Star Blues. Delores Fossen

      Dylan didn’t know who was more surprised—him or Walter Ray. His guess was Walter Ray, because the man’s face turned red. He looked like an inflamed testicle, and it didn’t go well with the dick-shaped nose.

      Walter Ray stood there several more long moments, volleying his glare, getting redder and sputtering out some ripe profanity until he finally turned and left. He made his size known with his clomping footsteps. And then he slammed the front door.

      “You fuck this up, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Lucian snarled to Dylan as he walked out.

      Ah, there was Lucifer again, who’d stepped up to dissolve the caring brother. And Dylan didn’t get a chance to ask him what would cause that potential smothering. Hurting the family business or messing up things with Corbin. The first was a huge possibility now that they were on the outs with Walter Ray, but Dylan thought he could still do all right by Corbin.

      Of course, that started with laying down some ground rules to Jordan. No custody for her, but he would be generous with visitation when she wasn’t off doing her duty for the military. Once he had made that clear, then she could be on her way to work out those changes she’d talked about.

      Changes she would be making with Theo, no doubt.

      Dylan could smell the pizza once he stepped out of the sunroom, and he crossed the foyer and went into the kitchen. Corbin was at the table, chowing down on a slice with a small plastic cup of milk next to his plate.

      “Pep-ronni,” Corbin announced.

      It was indeed pepperoni with extra cheese. Dylan’s favorite. Apparently, it was Corbin’s favorite, too.

      Karlee was sitting across from the boy. She smiled at Dylan when he came in, but the smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He had no idea why, but maybe she’d overheard the argument that Lucian and he had had with the judge.

      He glanced around the large eat-in kitchen, but there was no sign of Jordan. “Did she leave?” he asked Karlee.

      She shook her head and motioned to the side porch. “Jordan got a call and stepped out there to talk.”

      Probably Theo again.

      It really wasn’t an adult thing to hate a person sight unseen and when he knew little about him, but Dylan did know one important thing. That he was green-eyed-monster jealous.

      Yep.

      It made no sense. He hadn’t been married to Jordan in a long time, and they’d obviously both gotten on with their lives. Still, it stung, and Dylan wasn’t sure he wanted to think long enough about it to figure out why.

      Dylan gave Corbin a thumbs-up when the boy finished his pizza and went into the box for another slice. Corbin grinned around the next bite he took. Dylan intended to do some eating and grinning, too, but then he looked out the side French doors and saw Jordan. Her back was to him, and she wasn’t talking on the phone, which meant she’d finished the chat that had required some privacy.

      “Whatever you do, don’t show any hints that you feel sorry for her,” Karlee said when she followed Dylan’s gaze. “Jordan’s upset that folks treat her like she’s damaged goods because she’s not. She says she’s fine.”

      That worked for him. He didn’t want her to be damaged or feel as if she was. He wanted her tough and strong, like the old Jordan. His Jordan.

      Well, when she had been his, that is.

      But that was a lot of water under an old bridge. She had a new life, and so did he, and it started with those ground rules.

      His phone buzzed, and when he saw his mom’s name on the screen, he let it go to voice mail.

      “I’ll be right back,” he told Corbin and Karlee, and he headed to the French doors. Dylan took a deep breath. Several of them. And he planned out exactly what he was going to say to get Jordan to leave and forget all about trying to get custody of Corbin.

      The moment he opened the doors, Jordan whirled around to face him, and those ground rules floated off like dandelion fluff. That’s because the unguarded look she gave him sent him spinning back to when they were nineteen and crazy in love.

      But now he was obviously just “ordinary/not in love” crazy.

      Because there was no way his body should feel that need slide through him. No way he should be staring at her mouth as if he wanted that instead of a slice of pizza. Thankfully, Jordan put a quick stop to it by saying just a handful of words.

      “Your mom just called me.”

      Dylan hadn’t seen that coming, and he wondered if it had something to do with the call that she’d just made to him. He got the feeling that it did when his phone buzzed with yet another call from her.

      “You should answer that,” Jordan insisted. “Because your mom knows about Corbin. She knows that I’m here, too, and she just told me that she wants me to stay at the ranch until we’ve all had a chance to talk. She’s hoping to be back here by tomorrow night.”

      Crap. That wasn’t good. Yes, his mom, Regina, co-owned the house, but it wasn’t her place to do this. Not when it would put Jordan, Regina and him under the same roof.

      Dylan was about to hit the answer button to take the call, but then Jordan said something else that had him saying something much stronger than crap.

      Jordan looked him straight in the eyes. “And Regina’s talking to her lawyer now so that she can petition to get custody of Corbin.”