“Isabel, give your auntie some room to get out of the car, darlin’!” my brother Max hollered from the edge of the porch as he made his way down.
Too excited myself, I hopped out of the car and caught the firecracker as she jumped. “Auntie Mia!” she squealed. Hearing her call me auntie officially, knowing that she shared the blood running through my veins, was one of the most powerful moments I’d had in years. I held my niece close, letting her wrap her arms and legs around me. She pressed her hands to both of my cheeks. “I get to be the queen!” she practically screamed in my face. I laughed hard and hugged her tight.
“You got it, love. I’ll be the princess. Hey, are you ready to meet Uncle Wes?”
Her eyes widened. “I have an Uncle Wes?” Her words were tinged with shocked excitement, befitting her four, almost five, years of age.
I shifted her weight onto one hip. “You do.”
Wes walked up and tugged on her hand. “Hello, Isabel. I’m Weston.”
“What a silly name.” It came out of her mouth with crooked smile.
“Bell!” Max scolded instantly, but I shook my head and gave him a dirty look. She was a child, and they were innocent.
Wes chuckled approvingly. “You know what’s even sillier?” He got close to her face.
She pinched her lips and looked up at the sky. “Hot dogs?”
That had both Wes and me laughing. Max just stood there with his hand over his mouth, trying not to encourage her with his laugher.
“What?” Her little face scrunched up into one of indignation. “It’s food, not a dog that’s hot. Silly.” I had to give it to her. The logic was sound.
“That is true. But what I was referring to that was silly is that my name has a number in it!”
Isabel’s mouth made the shape of a surprised O and her eyes widened. “No way!”
“Way. My official name is Weston Charles Channing the Third.” He held up three fingers, and she looked at them as if they were about to shoot off of his hand like little rockets into the sky right in front of her eyes.
“Wow. That is…so cool! Daddy, can I have a number in my name? I’d like to be five.”
That time, Max did laugh. “Darlin’, you have already been named, and no, you cannot have a number in your name. But you will be five in April. Can you wait until then?”
“No, Daddy, I really can’t. It’s forever long.” She pouted and I kissed her sweet little cheek. She smelled like maple syrup and crayons.
“Go on in, Bell, and tell your momma your auntie and uncle are here. Okay?”
She wiggled her feet so I set her down, and she was off like a shot. Man, kids moved fast. Everywhere they went had to be at a dead run, even if it was only twenty feet away.
I walked over to my brother and face-planted against his chest. Wrapping my arms around his large frame, I hugged him as tight as I could. He smelled of leather and laundry detergent. Familiar and comforting.
“So good to see you, sugar. Having you here for Thanksgiving means uh, you know…” He let the words just fall off, his voice sounding rougher than normal.
And I did know what it meant to him. Maxwell Cunningham was a family man above all. Rich as the sky is vast, but he’d say it was the love of his family that made him a rich man, not the millions in his bank account.
“Maxwell Cunningham, I want you to meet my fiancé, Weston Channing.”
Max grinned wide, held out a hand, and the second Wes clasped his, Max brought their bodies into one of those man-hug-smack-the-back holds. “Real good to meet ya, partner. Mia was damn near sick about you being missing. I’ll bet you’re glad to be back in the States and with our girl.”
I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t have seen it with my own eyes, but Wes’s cheeks pinked up. He shook his head, shuffled his feet, and nodded. I also noted that he did not ream Max for saying “our girl” like he did when Anton had said it. Interesting.
“So good to be back. All I thought about was this beautiful woman and making her mine.” He looped an arm around my waist and crushed me to his side.
Max’s eyes went soft, crinkling at the edges. “Sometimes a man has to fight his way through hell to know how good he has it. I reckon you learned that the hard way, and I’m damn sorry ’bout that, but happy you're back in the land of the free and home of the brave. Welcome to my ranch.” Such a cowboy thing to say, and I loved my brother even more for it.
Wes tipped his head and tightened his hold. He eyed the land around him, his eyes a startling green. “Amazing land. You own all these acres?” Wes asked, pointing to the trees and beyond.
Maxwell pointed to the areas where he wanted us to look. “Not as many as Cunningham Oil does, but I own a good lot here. You see that barn over there with the J on it? That’s the Jensens’ place. You know Aspen.”