“Do you?”

I wrap him in my arms then and hold him tight. Who knows how many more chances I’ll have to do this? “I do,” I whisper. “I’ve known every day since you were born.”

He returns the hug, and for a moment I’m at peace. He is mine. Everything is good. And then we let go and step apart, and Hank disappears to brush his teeth as Cooper enters the kitchen, complaining bitterly about Bo using up all the hot water. Again.

“Morning,” I say mildly, pouring my coffee.

“Hate mornings,” he grouses.

The edge of my mouth lifts. Cooper is not a morning person. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. Until I had to wake up.”

The corner of my mouth lifts higher as I throw a packet of sweetener into my coffee. “How old are you again?” I ask as he grabs a box of cereal from the cupboard and a bowl and spoon from the cabinet.

He scowls at me, and the freckles dusted across his nose dance. “Twelve.”

I blow on my coffee. “Good.”

The morning news said it was going to be another scorcher today, with temperatures hovering in the mid- to high eighties, and I believe it as I step outside to drive the boys to school. Even though it’s the end of September, north central Texas is still warm, and the humidity in the air sets my teeth on edge. I shouldn’t be wearing jeans. I should put on a skirt and sandals and at least be cool. But putting on a skirt means shaving my legs, and that’s the last thing I feel like doing.

The fact is, I am thoroughly enjoying country life and dressing down and easing up on my beauty routine. In New York I spent a lot of time on maintenance, but it’s exhausting work and boring besides.

Brick’s blue truck appears in the driveway, bouncing over the deep ruts worsened by last week’s rain. I stand on the top step as his truck pulls up next to me.

Brick’s a big guy, and a good-looking guy, if you like rugged men who don’t believe in doing too much to themselves other than basics like hair and teeth and a once-a-day shave. I remember how a couple of years ago John tried to convince Brick that he should use some moisturizer and eye cream, said it’d really help with all Brick’s sun exposure, and Brick looked at John as if he were a freak. Moisturizer, eye cream? Not on this brother.

The truck idles and Brick rolls down the passenger window. He’s got his straw cowboy hat pulled low, and the brim shades his eyes. “You might want to check your cell phone and make sure it’s not dead, ’cause I got a call from your agency in Dallas. They want to book you for a shoot today. Said they’d been trying to reach you since last night.”

I walk around the truck to the driver’s side. “How’d they find you?”

“I guess I’m an emergency contact. Anyway, you need to call them and then hightail it into Dallas.”

“I’ve got to take the boys to school.”

“I’ll take them. You need to do this. It’s always great money, and it’d be good for you to get off the ranch for the day.”

“I’m okay here—”

“Mama’s thinking about moving back home.”

“What?”

Brick tips his hat back. “She thinks you need her, that you’re in over your head and can’t handle the boys—”

“That’s ridiculous! I’m doing fine.