here.” She glanced up at Nate from below her impossibly long lashes. “At least I think we’re staying for a bit. But after this—”
“Of course you’re staying,” Nate told her. “Accidents happen, and I never liked that lamp, anyway.”
Bianca offered the hint of a grateful smile. She ruffled her son’s dark hair. “EJ.”
In that way that mothers of boys had, Bianca seemed to be able to communicate an entire sentence simply by speaking her son’s name.
“I’m sorry about your ugly lamp,” EJ said solemnly. “Roscoe is sorry, too.”
“How old are you, EJ?” Nate asked.
The boy held up four dirt-smudged fingers. “Four.”
“How about Roscoe?”
That question earned Nate a smile so like Eddie’s it made his chest ache.
“Roscoe is two,” EJ explained. “So he’s still kinda clumsy.”
“Is there a broom in the kitchen?” Bianca asked as she bent to pick up the top half of the lamp, which hadn’t cracked. “I’ll sweep—”
“I can get it,” Nate told her, still shocked that Eddie’s little sister had shown up on his doorstep all grown up and with a child of her own. “Did you drive all the way from San Antonio today?”
She placed the broken lamp gently on the table next to the sofa. “It’s only six hours. We got an early start.”
“Did you stop for lunch?”
“Nope,” EJ answered before Bianca could. “I had cheese crackers and a banana.”
“I’ll make you both lunch.”
“You don’t have to,” Bianca protested at the same time EJ offered, “I like peanut butter and honey with the crusts cut off.”
“I can make him a sandwich,” Bianca offered, her cheeks flaming bright pink. “He’s a picky eater.”
“I’m not picky.” The boy shook his head, still clinging to the bear. “I just eat what I eat.”
“You sound like your uncle,” Nate said, a ball of emotion lodging in the back of his throat. “Do you know he put hot sauce on everything?”
Bianca chuckled softly. Nate’s gaze tracked to her and they shared a smile, clearly both remembering the man they had in common. “I once saw him shake hot sauce on a brownie.”
“Yuck.” EJ made a face. “I like ketchup.”
“Me, too,” Nate agreed. “But not on a peanut butter and honey sandwich.”
“Do you own horses?” EJ asked.
“Yes.”
“Cows?”
“Yep.”
“Pigs?”
Nate shook his head. “No pigs, but we have a chicken coop.”
“Do you make nuggets out of them?”
“They lay eggs,” Nate explained, grinning at the boy. “I’ll make you an omelet in the morning.”
“I like cereal,” the boy told him. “Where’s my room? Do I have a place to put my clothes? Can Roscoe have his own pillow?”
“Let’s eat lunch and then I’ll give you a tour of the house.”
“EJ,” Bianca said, putting a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Can you thank Mr. Nate for letting us stay with him?”
“Thank you,” EJ said, then added, “I need to pee.”
“Bathroom’s right around the corner,” Nate said, pointing toward the hall.
As the boy skipped out of the room, Bianca let out an audible breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention him at the start.”
“It’s fine.”
“I wasn’t sure—”
“Bianca.” Nate stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to have both you and EJ here. He reminds me so much of Eddie. I bet your brother loved having a little mini-me running around. I can’t believe he never mentioned a nephew.”
“EJ’s a great kid,” she said, not directly addressing his comments. “He has a lot of energy, just like Eddie.”
“It should serve him later in life. Eddie had more stamina in his little finger than the rest of our squadron combined.”
“I hope it does,” she said, almost wistfully. “He’s the light of my life. I’d do anything for him.”
She blinked several times and turned to look out the family room’s picture window to the fields south of the house. Nate had a million questions, but suddenly she seemed so fragile, and he was afraid she might cry if he pushed her for details on how she’d ended up at his house. He couldn’t stand to see a woman cry, especially not one who was clearly trying to hold it together.
As he looked at her more closely, he noticed faint circles under her big eyes, like she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages. Where was EJ’s father? Nate knew if he had a son, he’d be a part of his life.
Was EJ’s father dead or had he deserted Bianca? Nate thought about his newly discovered extended family of Fortunes. He and his brothers had grown up simply, unlike Gerald and Charlotte Robinson’s children. But they’d had a mother who loved them and the ranching couple who’d taken Deborah in, pregnant and alone, when she’d had nowhere else to turn. Did his mom ever feel as weary and desperate as Bianca looked right now? His heart clenched at the thought.
“Ham or turkey?” he shouted suddenly, then forced a calming breath when Bianca whirled to him, her brown eyes wide.
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he told her. “I’m going to make sandwiches. Would you like ham or turkey?”
“You really don’t—”
“I’ll choose if you don’t.”
Her delicate brows furrowed as she stared at him. “Turkey,” she said finally, and with that one word Nate felt like he’d won some sort of battle. He liked winning.
“Great. Lunch will be ready in ten minutes.” He paused on his way to the kitchen. “Unless you need help unloading your bags from the car.”
“No,” she said, almost too quickly. “We don’t have much. Just a weekend bag. We’re not staying that long. I don’t want to impose. It won’t—”
“You can stay as long as you like,” he told her. “Eddie
