Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(71)

“You were close to Grace?”


It didn’t escape his notice that Charlie didn’t refer to Grace and Dan as Gavin’s mom and dad. He obviously considered Gavin his son, not theirs, which was f*cked up on a number of levels that neither of them had begun to address in the last two years. “Yes. Not to get off on a strange tangent, but my adoption was more her idea than his.”


Charlie looked at him sharply. “Why’s that?”


“My mom was forty and my dad was forty-eight when they adopted me. He was busy running his…affairs—” Charlie snorted, “—and having a baby gave her something to do. I never felt neglected or anything growing up—I had a great childhood—it’s just an observation I made after I had a child of my own and was so much more involved in raising her. Like I said, my dad had a lot of great qualities, but he wasn’t much of a family man.”


“Then in my opinion, he wasn’t much of a man,” Charlie said.


“Dad,” Quinn shouted, “I need that help now.”


Charlie slipped through the gate without another word.


Gavin wasn’t as bothered by the conversation as he feared he’d be. Charlie deserved to know what kind of father Dan Daniels had been to him. Not that Charlie could do anything about it and Gavin wasn’t looking for reassurance that Charlie would’ve raised him differently. The best thing Gavin had learned from his father was that he never wanted to be that type of father to his own child. And maybe some small part of Gavin wanted Charlie to know he was more like him.


He noticed when Charlie spoke to his sons and nephews, they listened. He remembered being so rapt with his father, hoarding his pearls of wisdom. Thinking the man could do no wrong. After learning his dad had continually cheated on his mother, Gavin wondered if he cheated in business too—which led Gavin to diversify the business after he’d inherited it.


Once the semi was loaded and closed up, Quinn parked it down the road and backed up the other semi-trailer to the loading chute. Took less time to load cattle into the second one than the first.


Quinn motioned him over. “You’re riding shotgun. Ben and Tell are ready to roll.”


Gavin looked over to see if Charlie wanted to speak to him before he left, but he was helping Dalton with the horses.


Maybe they’d said everything they needed to say.


Sierra stood at the kitchen island fixing a snack when she heard a series of thuds on the front porch. She slipped into the dining room and glanced at Sadie, curled up, snoring in her doggie bed. Did that mean she knew who was at the door at seven on a Saturday night, so she wasn’t worried for Sierra’s safety?


Or…Sadie was a lousy guard dog.


The heavy wooden door in the foyer didn’t have a peep hole. As she weighed her options about checking out the noise, two raps sounded.


“S-s-sierra, it’s B-b-boone.”


She opened the door quickly. “Boone? Omigod! What are you…you’re covered in snow.” She grabbed the lapels of his coat and jerked him inside, and they nearly tumbled to the floor.


Boone righted himself. Then he was shaking really hard as he leaned against the door and it slammed shut. “Th-thanks. S-s-sorry if I interrupted s-s-something.”


“What are you doing here?” Her gaze swept over him. He didn’t move. His eyes blinking drowsily.


“Boone? Have you been drinking?”


“No. I…d-d-damn.” His teeth chattered like crazy.


After all her dad’s lectures about frostbite and the dangers of hypothermia, Sierra recognized the signs immediately. She didn’t think; she just acted. She tugged off Boone’s gloves. His hands were as hard and cold as icicles. Her gaze moved to his face. He wore an Elmer Fudd hat which covered his head and ears. It also had a pull-down face mask so only his eyes and lips were visible. “I wouldn’t have opened the door if you’d had this over your face.”


“S-s-smart ch-choice.”


Sierra placed her hands on his cold cheeks and he made an odd noise, so she snatched them back. “Okay. I’ll leave your hat on.” She unzipped his coveralls. “You’ll have to move if you want to get out of these clothes and warm up.”


“K-k-kay.” Boone leaned forward.


She stripped the coveralls off his arms and then pulled them to his ankles. “Kick them off.”


He fell back against the door as he kicked the wide-legged coveralls aside.


“Don’t move.” She ran to the linen closet for bedding, grabbing a heavy wool blanket and a down comforter. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, gathering the edges in front of his chest. “Can you hold on to this?”


“I’ll t-t-try.”


Sierra dropped to her knees and brushed the snow off the laces of his work boots. It took several tries until the frozen leather would cooperate.


Boone shifted feet so she could pull the boot off.


She curled her hands around his foot. At least his socks weren’t wet and his feet weren’t blocks of ice. By the time she’d finished removing the second boot, he’d stopped shaking so hard. She stood and eyed him. “You warmed up enough to walk to the fireplace?”