Page 20 of Hometown Cowboy
Mary Jameson turned to face her daughter, her eyes narrowing. “I never thought I’d see the day that you compared yourself to Britney Logan. The important question is—are you happy?”
Darby sighed and shook her head. “I’m not comparing, not really. It’s just when you see people doing such amazing things, being everything they ever said that they would be, it makes you wonder. I mean, look at Zac and Pete, and Xander? They’ve all made names for themselves. Even Cat’s cupcakes are getting massive recognition outside the state.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes. I’m happy.” She twisted her mouth and gave a wry smile. “Mostly, anyway.”
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Ryan, would it?”
Darby looked away. Her mother always saw too much, particularly things Darby didn’t want her to.
She shrugged noncommittally. “Of course not. Why would it?”
A smirk flitted across her mother’s face before she could hide it. “Besides the fact that you’ve been dancing around each other since the wedding? Oh, I don’t know. You tell me.”
“It’s nothing.” She bumped her mum’s shoulder with her own and pasted a smile on her face. “You’re just imagining things because you want grandkids so bad that you can taste it. If you’re waiting to get them from me, you’ll be waiting a heck of a long time.”
She followed her mum back through to the kitchen where various salads and cold meats peppered the benchtop, waiting for her to whip them into one of her well-known concoctions. Gabe and Emma were due back any time and her mother was preparing to feed them the moment they walked through the door.
Darby popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and squished it with her back teeth. An intense mix of tart and sweet flooded her mouth. Her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the flavour explosion.
Mary swatted at her daughter absently. “Stop that! Make yourself useful and grab a knife.”
Darby found her favourite knife and perched half on one of the bar stools that were tucked away beneath the island bench. She dragged over one of the chopping boards and absently started to cut up salad vegetables, putting them into a large bowl in the middle of the bench.
“How many are coming today?”
Her mother glanced up at her. “Everyone, I think.”
Darby’s gut tumbled and goosebumps peppered her forearms. She rubbed at one arm and tried to hide the silly smile that kept wanting to slip out onto her mouth.
Everyonealways included Ryan. He was part of the furniture. He’d pretty much grown up in their house from as far back as she could remember, his mother Julie accompanying him until he got old enough to come by himself. After that, sometimes she came and other times she stayed home.
There would be enough people milling around in the entertainment area that hopefully nobody would notice if her body betrayed her and acted silly near him. She could just brush it off as being excited that Gabe and Emma were back.
“When are you expecting them? They haven’t answered any of my messages.”
The unmistakable squeak of the kitchen screen door intruded.
“That would be right about now.”
Gabe’s voice from behind spun her around. Unable to help herself, Darby squealed and ran toward him and Emma standing in the open back doorway.
Darby threw her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. “You’re back!”
Gabe squeezed her back and spun her around, laughing. “You’re a master of the obvious, Darb.”
She quickly kissed his cheek, then grabbed Emma in an equally strong squeeze. Emma’s laughter echoed around the kitchen. “You are squishing me, Darby. I still need to breathe.”
Darby was almost bouncing, she was so happy to see them. “I missed you guys so much. You have no idea.”
Gabe kissed his mother on the cheek and reached over to grab a baby beetroot from the bowl and pop it in his mouth.
“Anyone would think you had no life without me. Have you really been that bored?”
Gabe’s cheeky response had her pegging a slice of cucumber at him. He looked so happy—happier than she’d ever seen him. Emma had made such a difference in his life. He was no longer surrounded by an impenetrable cloud of sadness.
“Always the smart-arse. Can’t a girl miss her brother and new sister?”