Shoulda Been a Cowboy (Rough Riders #7)(80)

When Cam uttered such sweet words she wanted to burst out in song.


Anton sighed. “Can I sit in the truck if you guys are gonna kiss and junk now so I don’t hafta watch?”


“Do you have all your stuff out of Domini’s car?” Cam asked.


“Yeah.”


“Then climb on in, sport, and close your eyes ’cause there’s gonna be some serious smooching going on.”


She smiled when Anton sighed again.


Cam situated them chest to chest. “I wish we had time for kissing and junk, but I know you have to work. I’m off duty now, so why don’t you drive us home and bring the truck back into town.”


“You’re sure?”


“Yep. Nowhere I need to go tonight.”


“What will you guys be doing?”


“I dunno. We’ll think of something.”


“That’s what worries me.” Domini kissed his chin and snatched his keys.


***


“More?” Cam asked Anton.


“Nope.” Anton pushed aside his empty bowl.


Cam rolled the wax pouch and shoved it inside the Cap’n Crunch box. “This was a new box and now it’s half empty. Domini is gonna know we had cereal for supper.”


“We could tell her it’s gone because…it spilled?”


“Lying is never a good choice. We’ll have to come clean if she asks, okay?”


“Okay. But only if she asks, right?”


Cam smiled. “You’re learning. You rinse the bowls and I’ll take the garbage out.” Cam practically dragged the bag he was so dead on his feet. After dumping the trash, he trudged up the back deck. Maybe Anton wouldn’t mind if they just called it a night right now.


He snorted. Yeah, nothing seven-year-olds liked better than hitting the hay at six thirty. As Cam tried to think of something entertaining he and Anton could do, he misjudged the next step and fell on his ass with a loud crash, painfully twisting his bum leg in the process.



“Fuck!” He hissed against the sudden pain. “Fuck f*ck f*ck! Motherf*cking piece of shit!”


The sliding glass door opened. Footsteps vibrated the wooden deck as Anton raced toward him. “Holy crap. Are you okay?”


No. Fuck no. Cam couldn’t put pressure on his stump even if it hadn’t detached from the prosthesis. “Can you run into my bedroom and get my crutches?”


“Um. Sure. Where are they?”


“By the nightstand.”


He ran back inside.


Less than a minute later Cam heard the clatter of metal and opened his eyes. Anton held out the crutches. “Here.”


“Thanks.” Cam struggled upright. With the aid of the crutches he made it into the house without falling on his ass.


Anton stayed behind him. Watchful. Sometimes the kid was so much like Domini he was surprised Anton hadn’t sprung from her womb.


His stump hadn’t detached, but it’d been wrenched hard enough Cam knew in order to wear the prosthetic at work tomorrow, he couldn’t wear it for the rest of the night.


So much for hiding in his room. He couldn’t leave Anton unattended.


“Cam?”


He glanced over his shoulder and realized he was blocking the doorway. “Sorry.” He hopped sideways. “Can you get by now?”


“Yeah. Do you need any more help?”


“Nope. I’ve got it,” he replied briskly.


Anton’s smile slipped. “Oh. So what’re you gonna do now?”


“Go to my room, get changed and take this off. Why? Did you need something?”


Anton shrugged. “I need help with my homework.”


“They’re giving you homework in second grade?”


“Spelling. You just have to read the words and I write ’em down.”


“I can probably handle that. Get your stuff out and set up at the breakfast bar. I’ll be right back.”


Cam ditched his uniform and slipped on an old army PT shirt and a pair of sweatpants altered into shorts. They hung low enough that the fabric covered his stump completely. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Why was he afraid of the stares and questions of a seven-year-old boy?


Talk about ridiculous.


Still, he was uncomfortable shuffling into the kitchen.


Anton’s head lifted. He automatically focused on the empty space below Cam’s left thigh. Then when he realized he’d been staring, his cheeks reddened and he quickly turned back to his notebook.


Cam took the barstool to the left of Anton. He propped his crutches on the support beam that framed the breakfast bar area and leaned across the countertop. “So? Whatcha got?”


Paper rattled and Anton slid a sheet in front of him. “Read me those words on the left.”


“Starting with imagine?”


“Yep.” Anton waited, pencil poised above the wide-ruled lines, car-shaped eraser at the ready.


“The first word is: delight.”