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Bobbie Jo looked up and peered past him to find Tarr and Matt coming their way. Her steps slowed, but both men had seen her. They’d clearly seen her and Tuck come around from the back of the shed together too, if Tarr’s elevated eyebrows said anything.
“I’ll see you later,” Tuck murmured, and then he raised both hands. “Guys, come on. My alarm went off literally sixty seconds ago.”
Matt looked at him and said, “We’ve got four cows in labor. We need everyone.” He gestured to Bobbie Jo. “You too, Bobbie Jo. Let’s go.” If he found it weird to see her and Tuck emerging from behind a shed, he didn’t show it.
Tarr sure did, and Tuck paused in front of his best friend, said something, and then brushed by him. Tarr didn’t move. He stared at Bobbie Jo, and while she’d never thought the cowboy didn’t like her, she did a little bit right now.
“Do I need to worry about you breakin’ his heart?” Tarr asked after several long moments.
Bobbie Jo shook her head. “No, sir,” she said.
Tarr Olson—tall, tough, millionaire Tarr Olson—nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “Come on. We’ve got four cows in labor, and we need everyone.”
“Bobbie Jo?”
Her name rang through her head, and Bobbie Jo frowned as she rolled over. She just wanted to sleep. She’d had a terrible, no-good day, and though her stomach growled, she simply wanted to stay in bed.
“Bobbie Jo,” Hattie, her cabinmate said, her voice much closer now. “Wake up. There’s two of the hottest cowboys alive standing in our living room, holding food you said you wanted them to bring.”
Bobbie Jo sat straight up, which did nothing to soothe the pounding in her head. “Tucker.”
Hattie sat down on her bed, her deep brown eyes filled with concern. She’d only moved in a couple of weeks ago, but she and Bobbie Jo had hit it off. They’d become fast friends, and Bobbie Jo had really needed that.
She reached out and tucked Bobbie Jo’s hair behind her ear, the way her mother might have done. “What’s going on? Why did he bring dinner?” She glanced toward the open door and back to Bobbie Jo. “And Tarr Olson.” Her face pinked up just saying his name, and Bobbie Jo managed to smile.
“I crashed his solitary lunch and bawled my eyes out about Lawson breaking up with me.”
Hattie’s eyes grew to the size of full moons by the end of the sentence. “There’s—Lawson broke up with you?”
Bobbie Jo pushed her blanket off her legs as she nodded. She hadn’t even bothered to change once she’d arrived home. She’d just collapsed into bed, and she sighed as she realized how dark it already was.
“So I guess he’s not coming here for your birthday next month.”
Bobbie Jo shook her head and stood, her hips feeling creaky. “No. Let’s go see what the cowboys brought for dinner.”
Hattie joined her, and as they crossed the small room, she whispered, “Do you think he actually cooks?”
“I mean, they live there together,” Bobbie Jo whispered back. “And they haven’t died yet, so.” She shrugged and led the way out of the bedroom. She’d taken the one in the far corner, but it still only took four strides to arrive in the more public areas of the cabin.
Tucker and Tarr stood side by side, still in front of the door, the food they’d brought still in their hands. For some reason, that struck Bobbie Jo as funny. She grinned at them and gestured for them to come into the kitchen at the back of the house. “C’mon, boys,” she said. “We won’t bite.”
Tarr exchanged a glance with Tuck, and then they stepped forward together. They’d clearly been home long enough to shower—both of them. She’d never seen cleaner clothes on either cowboy, unless they were going to church, and she eyed the pans and bags in their hands.
“What did you bring?” She looked from the covered casserole dish in Tuck’s hands to his face. “And did you cook this?”
“I was in the birthing shed longer than you,” he said as he slid the casserole dish onto the counter. “So, no. I enlisted the help of Cosette for this.”
“She’s a great cook,” Tarr added as he put a plastic grocery bag of food on the counter. “She and Boone have us over sometimes.”
“So you don’t cook,” Hattie said, not phrasing it as a question. Tarr’s eyes flew to hers and locked there, and oh, the electricity in the room made the hair on Bobbie Jo’s arms stand straight up.
“Tuck’s better than me,” Tarr said smoothly. “But we take turns in the kitchen.” He flicked a look to Tuck. “Right, Tuck?”
“Right,” he said easily. He pulled back the aluminum foil concealing the food inside. “It’s chicken cordon bleu casserole—one of my favorites. She said it’s not super warm, but it heats super fast in the oven or the microwave.” He smiled at her, and wow, Bobbie Jo could sink into that. “Do you want me to put it in the oven?”
“I can?—”
“I insist,” he said with more force in his voice than he’d used with her in a long time. If he ever had.
