singular,” Sloane said under her breath, drawing a curious look from Daron and a couple of the other kids.
Neil took Jason’s hand, and even from where she stood she could tell big bro had made sure Jason knew just how strong he was. A glance at Ben and Adam showed they were doing a pitiful job of hiding their amusement.
She rolled her eyes. Okay, the scene ceased being funny and strode right into annoying. She wasn’t a damsel in distress and she didn’t need her brothers’ protection. She didn’t have any statistics to back it up, but she sincerely doubted guys who posed a threat showed up with a bag of fresh pastries.
“All right,” she said. “Pastries for everyone.”
The kids squealed and jumped up and down, making her smile and ending the testosterone-off.
She motioned everyone to the campsite in a shady area beyond the barn. The circle of tents surrounded log benches and a fire pit. Flying from a small flagpole was a blue flag with white lettering that said Camp Rocking Horse and sported the outline of the ranch’s brand. The kids seated themselves on the logs, and Jason squatted in the center of the circle. She refused to notice how snug his jeans fit his backside in that position.
Yeah, right. She’d have to be dead for that to escape her notice.
“Okay, who likes cherries?” Jason asked.
Phoebe’s hand and that of another girl named Ginny shot into the air.
“Good thing I got two, huh?”
He handed those out, followed by a variety of other Danish and doughnuts. When only one child remained empty-handed, he shifted his attention to Brent, the quietest of the bunch. His story hurt Sloane’s heart, and she’d had to fight the urge to simply wrap the little boy in her arms and tell him everything would be okay. Of course, she couldn’t know that. She got these kids for a weekend, to give them a little light and fun in their lives, a different environment. But then they had to go back to their group homes or to families that had problems of one sort or another. She’d never counted on seeing them leave being so difficult.
“What do you like, little man?”
Brent shrugged.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Okay,” Brent said in the small voice she’d only heard a few times.
Jason leaned in toward Brent a little. “The best one is still in here. It’s my favorite. Want to see what it is?”
Brent glanced toward her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. The boy returned his gaze to Jason and nodded.
Jason pulled a pastry from the bag and placed it on a napkin in his palm. “Behold, the cruller.”
He said it with such awe and reverence that one would think he was displaying Excalibur rather than a piece of fried dough.
Angel leaned in next to her and whispered. “He’s good with them.”
Sloane couldn’t disagree, but even that annoyed her for some reason.
After handing the cruller to Brent, Jason turned toward where Angel and Sloane stood.
“What about you ladies?” He glanced down into the bag. “I’ve still got glazed doughnuts and a couple of apple Danish.”
“Doughnut, please,” Angel said.
He gave the doughnut to Angel, then shifted his questioning gaze to Sloane.
“I’m good.”
Beside her, Angel made a frustrated sound. “She’ll take a Danish.”
When Jason extended the pastry toward her, she almost kept her arms crossed. But she realized she was being unnecessarily prickly and accepted his offering.
“Thanks.” When he placed the bakery bag down on an empty log bench, she pointed at it. “Aren’t you having something? It’s only fair since you’ve foisted a ton of sugar and calories off on the rest of us.”
He patted his stomach. “Oh, trust me. I had plenty on the way out here.”
Could have fooled her. Though he was wearing a button-down shirt that wasn’t formfitting, she’d bet good money there was a nice set of solid abs lurking beneath the cloth.
Irritated at the direction of her thoughts, she took a giant bite of her Danish.
Jason sank onto the bench. “So, who has questions about being a rodeo cowboy?”
“How long have you been a cowboy?” Alice asked.
“For as long as I can remember. I started mutton busting when I was four years old.”
“What’s mutton busting?” Daron asked.
“It’s where you ride a big woolly sheep. You wrap your legs around the sheep’s body,” Jason explained, making a circle with his arms, “and hang on to the wool with your hands and see how long you can ride without falling off.”
“That sounds like fun,” Brent said, surprising Sloane so much she was sure her eyes widened. It was the first time Brent had said anything without being asked a direct question.
“It was. It’s how kids get interested in the rodeo.”
“Are we going to do mutton busting?” a boy named Enrique asked. There was such a light in his dark eyes and excitement in his question that Sloane hated to burst his bubble.
“Sorry, but no.”
“Why not?”
She glanced at Jason to find him watching her, also waiting for the answer to Enrique’s question.
“We don’t have sheep, for one.” Not to mention the safety equipment and the level of liability insurance that such an event would require. Or the money for any of those things.
The looks and sounds of disappointment rekindled her irritation, not at the kids but at Jason for bringing up the topic in the first place.
Okay, so he was just answering a question, but still. What kid could resist the idea of riding a big, fluffy sheep? Heck, she would have totally done that as a kid if the opportunity had been there.
“I’m sure you’re going to be doing a bunch of other fun stuff this weekend,” Jason said.
Sloane gradually relaxed again as she watched the continued exchange between Jason and the kids. He never acted as if any of their questions were stupid, and he didn’t talk down to them. It made her wonder if he had kids of his own. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean anything. Some of the rodeo guys were probably like sailors with a girl in every port.
By the time her mom rang the bell signaling lunch was ready, Sloane had learned that Jason was from Idaho, he’d been competing as a professional since he was eighteen and he’d had six broken bones thanks to his career choice.
Angel herded
