Hunter, of course, owned a smartphone, two tablets and one of those new watch gizmos to boot. The man had been known to post videos of his lunch to social media. Even if Hunter was in the remotest quarter of the Outback, he was never off the grid and never off the stage.
Cooper ignored Glenno’s long-suffering look, pointing instead to the white paper bag. “A new recipe for you to figure out. But save one for Sophie to have tomorrow—those things are delicious.” Glenno, aside from being a great cook, was also somewhat of a gastronomic sleuth, forever attempting to recreate sauces, dishes and foods he found in restaurants or shops. If Glenno’s track record could be trusted, Cooper and Sophie could have an unending supply of Lolly-like blondies whenever they wanted them by the end of the week, if not for tomorrow’s birthday.
Then, casually, Cooper added, “I met another of our neighbors today.”
Glenno began inspecting one of the blondies with a scientific squint. “More Bucktons?”
“Yes. At least this one’s pretty.”
Glenno smirked. “So not Luke or Gunner.” He broke off a corner of the treat and tasted it. After a moment’s savoring, he gave an approving nod. “Very good. Who’d you meet?”
“Tess. I’d heard Luke had a twin, but I always assumed it was another bloke. This sister just blew into town—from Adelaide, believe it or not. Why didn’t anyone tell me one of the Bucktons was there lately?”
Glenno broke off another piece. “Because they don’t talk to you. Because you don’t talk to them. Because they’re afraid this ranch is about to become another stop on the tour and you don’t tell them otherwise.” He set the confection down. “You can’t start if you don’t start.”
Another Glenno-ism. The man had an unending collection of wise sayings that didn’t quite make sense. Hunter called him the Aussie Yogi Berra—something Glenno took as a compliment. “I just have to find a way to tell Hunter first. Word might spread, and I don’t want him to hear it from anyone but me.”
Glenno took a piece of the blondie, sniffed it then squished it between his fingers, testing the texture. “You keep waiting for the perfect time to tell your brother unwelcome news. The longer you wait, the worse the news gets.”
“Not if I tell him the right way.” But Cooper knew his voice lacked conviction. They’d had this conversation a dozen times already.
Glenno shook his head. “Even if you tell him the perfect way.” He looked at Cooper. “You want to do this thing, dontcha?”
From the moment his plan arrived in his head, seemingly straight from God Himself, Cooper had never wanted to do anything more than the plan he was waiting to launch right now. “Of course.”
“And you know Hunter won’t approve.”
“I think that’s pretty much certain, don’t you?”
Glenno nodded once. “Two facts that won’t change no matter how much time you let them sit. But the sooner you tell him, the sooner you two can start working past this. He is your brother, mate. Give him some credit for wanting you to be happy—once he has a chance to get used to the idea.”
Cooper poured himself a cup of coffee. “Credit? Remember what’s going on here. I’m breaking up the act. Hunter’s going to take that like a stab in the heart. He won’t just say ‘goodonya’ and move on like it’s just a minor ding. I’m denting—maybe even sinking—the Pine Brothers’ brand. The unforgivable sin. I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again after I tell him.”
“And yet you keep saying you’re tired of Hunter deciding your future.”
“Daddy! You’re back!” Cooper heard the welcome sound of his very nearly six-year-old daughter coming down the hallway toward the kitchen. “I need your help.” He turned to see Sophie’s face scrunched up beneath two wild peaks of strawberry-blond curls. “I can’t do it. You hafta.” She leaned her crutches up against the kitchen counter and slid onto the seat next to him, catching sight of the white bag as she did. “What’s in there?”
Break out early birthday blondies? Or make another sad attempt at Daddy pigtails? It wasn’t a hard decision. “Special six-year-old birthday goodies that were supposed to be for tomorrow. But they can arrive a day early for anyone having pigtail troubles.”
She grinned up at her father. “That’s me.”
“They’re called blondies, and a lady in town said they were her absolute favorite. I knew right then I needed some for my little lady on her birthday.” Glenno produced a plate, and Cooper slid one of the goodies onto it and in front of Sophie. “I’ve barely mastered the ponytail, sunshine, and now you want two?”
“And braids.”
Cooper laughed. “I’m pretty sure braids are beyond me.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Sophie said after a hearty “Mmm” to go with her first bite of the confection, “nothin’s too hard for you. Not even French braids.”
Cooper looked at Glenno. “What’s a French braid?”
Glenno smirked. “Harder than a regular braid, I expect.”
Sophie unleashed her hair from the uneven tangles and placed the glittery holders on the counter in front of Cooper. “I want to wear pigtails on my birthday tomorrow. Can’t you try? Please?”
Cooper had watched his fair share of how-to videos just to master the ponytail—an irony not lost on a horse trainer. Still, all those curls atop a wiggly five-year-old, combined with the challenge of maneuvering those impossibly tiny elastics, made two pigtails feel nearly impossible. Still, this was Sophie. How could he say no?
“I’ll look it up tonight and we’ll give it a whirl tomorrow.” He thought about Tess Buckton, the pretty neighbor he’d just met. She had long hair. Maybe he could override his “keep to yourself” rule in the name of birthday hair.
Then he remembered Luke Buckton’s none-too-neighborly glare as he’d left the bakery.
Maybe not.
The next morning, Tess pulled a Blue Thorn Ranch truck up to the main house after being buzzed in at the Larkey ranch. She’d have to stop calling it that if Cooper stayed. It had been the Larkey ranch—often said with a derisive sneer for the wily, backstabbing former owner—for her whole life. Well, lots of things were changing around here. The loss of Larkey as a neighbor could only fall into the positive column as far as she was concerned.
She adjusted the basket on her arm and rang the doorbell on the big, beautiful old home. A startling squeal—a distinctly little-girl sound—came from inside the house. Could it be that Cooper Pine’s little lady really was little? The thought surprised her as Cooper’s face peered through the door’s small upper window before he pulled the door open. “Well, hello there.”
“You said it was somebody’s birthday. Blondies—even Lolly’s—aren’t enough for a birthday in my book. So I brought over some Buckton brownies.” She held out the basket. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Well,” Cooper said, looking genuinely surprised, “look here. Buckton birthday brownies.”
From behind him came the smiling face of a young girl—eyes as green as her father’s, but with a wild tousle of strawberry-blond curls rather than Cooper’s darker hair. Definitely Cooper Pine’s daughter. Was she the birthday girl? Or was it her mother, whom Tess thought was probably back somewhere in the house—maybe in the kitchen, munching down a blondie?
Then came an odd clicking sound as a pair of Canadian crutches came into view, flanking the ruffles of a frilly party dress. Tess told herself not to stare as the ruffled skirt ended in only one white cowboy boot.