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Paisley shoved Kaci’s hand down. “Yeah, I saw. Didn’t your mama teach you not to point in public?”

“My mama taught me a lot of things I didn’t take to heart.”

Paisley frowned. What did she even know about Kaci? Not much. “Where are you from?” Because that accent was a blend that could be from nearly any part of the US.

“Texas. Oh, look. There’s our food.”

Was that real relief in Kaci’s voice, or was Paisley’s imagination working overtime? Because that was a distinct possibility.

Chapter

Eight

Weston eyed the 14 kids crowding the corral fence, eager faces glowing in excitement. Had he and Jude ever been that young? They must’ve been, human biology being what it was.

How had he let Paisley ramrod this excursion through? Not that he’d had a choice. She’d gone around him to Grandfather and Tate. Once the big shots decided this was a good idea, a good idea it was and would remain. Whether he liked it or not.

He turned to Harvey Little, the plump, 40-something attorney beside him. “Do you know all these kids?”

Harvey nodded. “Not sure how I got roped into this, though.”

That made two of them. If push came to shove — and it would — Harvey wasn’t going to be much help. “Your wife?”

“She’s a nurse, so our homeschool association thought she was a good choice.”

Weston eyed the rotund woman chatting with Paisley. “Either of you ride before?”

“Susanna has.”

“How recently?”

Harvey waved a hand laden with rings. “Not since she was these kids’ age, but you know what they say.”

Weston only hoped his groan wasn’t audible.

The man grinned. “It’s like riding a bike, right?”

“Not exactly. How about camping?”

“Does an RV count?”

Weston pivoted to look at the man. “What do you think?”

Harvey looked abashed. “Not so much, huh?”

Not even a little bit. “Look, we can still call this whole thing off.” Paisley would kill him, but that was a small price to pay to get this week back, to say nothing of his sanity. “Because we’ll be in the saddle for four or five hours today, and there is no hot tub at the other end. No flush toilets. No memory foam mattresses or air conditioning.”

“I know.” Harvey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Weston pressed on. “You’ll be sharing a tent with several of those boys. You’ll sleep on a thin air pad without your wife by your side because she’ll be doing the same with a few girls. Which kid is yours, anyway?”

“Those twins.” The man pointed at a boy and girl who hung back from the others. Both of them looked a little on the chunky side, too.

“Your son will be in my group tent, and your daughter in Paisley’s.”

“No, he’ll be with me.”

“Wrong answer. He’s here on an expedition, and I’m in charge.” Paisley would back Weston up, right?