Free McKettrick's Heart by Linda Lael Miller Page B

whimpered, rested his head on Molly’s shoulder, gave a little shudder as he settled in.
    Keegan realized he’d taken back Spud’s reins at some point, and it bothered him that he didn’t remember when it had happened.
    â€œYou may have given birth to Lucas,” he told Molly in an undertone, returning the greetings of old friends and passers-by with a rigid smile and a nod, “but Psyche’s his mother. She’s the one who protected him, provided for him, loved him.”
    â€œDo you think I need you to tell me that, you pompous ass?” Molly shot back, doing the smile-and-nod thing herself.
    So much for the two of them being civil to each other, Keegan reflected, shoving a hand through his hair.
    Molly turned on her heel and marched away, lugging Lucas with her. The boy struggled and reached back, not for Keegan, who was after all a stranger to him, but for the donkey.
    Devon appeared, balancing a plate of barbecued chicken, potato salad and coleslaw in one hand. “What do donkeys eat?” she asked, looking as though she might be about to offer Spud her picnic supper.
    â€œThe same things horses do,” Keegan answered, still way too aware of Molly. He was practically spinning in her wake. “Grass. Hay. Alfalfa. Grain.”
    â€œHow come he’s not giving rides?”
    â€œHis carnival career is over. He’s going home with us.”
    Devon brightened. “Really? We get to keep him?”
    â€œYes,” Keegan said, just as a familiar roar filled the air. A sleek jet passed overhead, bearing the McKettrickCo logo, an updated version of Angus’s original brand, on the undersides of the wings.
    â€œThey’re back!” Devon cried. “Jesse and Cheyenne are back from their honeymoon!”
    â€œMaybe,” Keegan agreed.
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘maybe’?” Devon asked. “Who else could it be?”
    Keegan could have named several possibilities—from famous country singers to a detachment of Texas McKettricks bent on taking the company public whether he liked it or not. He sure as hell hoped it was Jesse.
    â€œDad?” Devon pressed, sounding worried.
    â€œLet’s find a place to park this donkey,” he said, trying to smile. “I’d like a cold beer and some supper.”
    â€œGood idea,” Devon said, relieved.
    He’d have eaten with Psyche, but Molly was there, and he’d had enough of her for one night. Make that one lifetime.
    In the end they stowed Spud in the churchyard across the street from the park, behind a picket fence. He immediately began dining on the petunias, and Keegan made a mental note to send the pastor a check.
    He ate with a flock of women, Emma among them. Cora Tellington, Rance’s former mother-in-law, was there, too. Cora ran the Curl and Twirl, a combination beauty shop and baton-twirling school, and Keegan had always liked her. Since Rance’s first wife, Julie, had died in a riding accident five years before, Cora had taken up the maternal slack with Rianna and Maeve. Rance hadn’t made it easy for her, either.
    â€œYou’re looking pretty down in the mouth tonight,” Cora confided affectionately, sitting beside him on a bench at one of the picnic tables and bumping his upper arm with her shoulder.
    â€œI’m fine,” he lied. Fact was, since that last set-to with Molly, he’d been feeling a little sorry for himself, and a hell of a lot sorrier for Devon. Maeve and Rianna had a devoted grandmother in Cora, and Rance’s parents, divorced years before and dating again since they’d hooked up after Jesse and Cheyenne’s wedding, both adored the kids.
    Keegan’s own folks had died in a plane crash when he was in high school, and even though the rest of the family had looked out for him straight through college, it was as if a part of him had gone down in flames right along with his mom and dad. He’d been working at