her health declining.
Brittany opened the front door. Mason held brown paper bags in each hand, and Noah lugged a plastic bag as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
“How much more is there?” she asked.
“Another bag and the pellets for the water softener. I’ve got it.”
“I’ll put these away.” She took one of the paper bags from him, and her hand brushed his. Awareness zipped through her, and a lump formed in her throat. This man—this stranger—had been her best friend most of her life. And now they couldn’t even have a civil conversation.
His cheeks grew pink and he hustled back outside.
“Where does this go, Miss Bwittany?” Noah let his bag drop and wiped his forehead as if he was exhausted.
“What’s in it?” She willed her emotions back into place and gave the boy what she hoped would pass for a smile.
“Toiwet paper.” His lisp was so cute.
“Hmm...” She tapped her finger to her chin. “Where should we put the toilet paper?”
“The bathroom?” He took one of the handles and dragged the bag down the hallway as she set the milk and cream in the fridge. He ran back to her and peeked into the bags. “Can I help?”
“Sure.” She pointed to the crackers and cookies. “Why don’t you set these in the cupboard over there?”
He grabbed the cookies, threw open the cabinet door, tossed the package on top of canned vegetables and repeated the process with the crackers. Then he made a production out of wiping his hands. “Now what?”
Mason walked between them with two large bags of salt pellets on his shoulder.
Noah followed him to the basement door, then ran back to Brittany. “I don’t like it down there.”
She bent down to Noah’s eye level. “I don’t, either. It’s dark and creepy.”
“Yeah. Cweepy.” He nodded, his expression a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Are you getting ready for Christmas?” She folded the paper bags.
“Yes! I’m getting presents! And Daddy’s taking me to Christmas Fest!”
“He is?” She motioned for him to follow her to the table. “What’s Christmas Fest?”
“Cookies and reindeer and an ice rink!” He climbed onto a chair on his knees.
“Well, that sounds like fun. I might have to check it out.”
Mason’s boots stomped up the steps. He looked at Noah. “Ready to go, buckaroo?”
“I wanna stay.”
“We need to get our own groceries home.”
Noah yawned, and Mason helped him put his coat on, then scooped him into his arms.
“Thank you.” Brittany held the door open for them.
“Tell Nan I’ll be over on Monday afternoon.”
She blinked. “How often do you stop by?”
“Every day but Sunday. I’d take her to church, too, but Lois Dern insists on picking her up.”
For once there wasn’t any animosity in his gaze. Just the truth. And the truth hurt. He’d been taking care of Nan all this time, and Brittany hadn’t even known Nan had needed help.
“I see.” Her voice sounded as small as she felt.
He arched his eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Then he carried Noah, who waved at her, down the steps to his truck.
She did see. And she didn’t like the picture.
Mason had taken over Nan’s care. His disdain for Brittany came through loud and clear.
Like most guys in her life, he’d decided she was all about herself.
Maybe she was.
They never seemed to understand that she had almost no free time and hadn’t in years. Working multiple jobs and scraping pennies to have her own studio might be selfish, but it didn’t make her a terrible person.
It looked like more changes to her life would need to be made. Nan was too important for Brittany to just leave her here without knowing she’d be safe. Mason might check on her in the afternoon, but what if Nan fell in the middle of the night? Got sick? Stopped paying her bills? Or grew more forgetful?
Was it time to look into assisted living?
Or...she supposed she could move Nan to California to live with her. Her head hurt at the thought. The logistics of it overwhelmed her.
She had time—a couple weeks—to figure out Nan’s care.
What would be best for her grandmother?
One question had been gnawing at him since finding Ryder on his porch last night. Which of them had been born first?
Mason strode beside Ryder down the path to the stables. Thankfully, Eden had offered to watch Noah for him. He’d briefly filled her in on the situation when he dropped Noah off after putting away the groceries. Eden, Mia’s younger sister by three years, still lived with his in-laws. Bill and Joanna had gone Christmas shopping, allowing Mason to avoid having the twin conversation with them. They wouldn’t be put off for long, however.
“Okay, now that you’re here,” Mason said, “I have a burning question.”
“Shoot.”
“When were you born? Which one of us is older?”
Ryder barked out a laugh. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. One of us is the big brother, and one is the baby. It’s time we found out.”
“My birth certificate says I was born at 5:43 a.m.”
Ryder grimaced. “Mine says 5:54 a.m.”
“I guess that means you’re my little brother.” Mason slapped him on the back. “By eleven minutes.”
“And I guess it means you’ll be rubbing it in forever.”
“I guess it does.” It didn’t seem quite as bizarre to think of the man beside him as his brother anymore. He hitched his chin toward the stables. “You sure you want to ride?”
“I’d love to. I miss it,” Ryder said. “I grew up on a sheep ranch in southern Montana.”
“Sheep, huh?” Resentment between sheep ranchers and cattle ranchers had been simmering since the West had been settled. Both fought for grazing land, and both begrudged each other for it. Pops had never had a good thing to say about sheep ranchers.
He took a closer look at Ryder. His clothes were typical Western wear, but they were high quality, as were his expensive boots and hat. “You aren’t still ranching?”
“No.” He matched Mason’s strides under the brilliant blue sky. “My grandparents got out of it when I was eleven. We moved closer to the city because Granddad needed medical care. Cancer took him a few years later.”
Cancer. How he hated the disease that had stolen Mia from him. “Pops inherited this land along with the cow–calf operation and passed it down to me. Are you still living in Montana?”
“No. Moved out to California for college. I’m in the Los Angeles area. For now.”
They reached the stables and Mason slid open the door. Dim light and floating dust motes greeted them as he led the way to the tack room. After hauling gear out, they saddled two quarter horses.
“Feels