Chapter Eighteen
Travis pulled to a stop in front of Elaine’s trailer and reached for the box on the front seat. He seemed to have a soft spot for Dax he couldn’t shake. Last week it had been the bike, and this week when he’d returned to the police station from Manhattan, package in hand, Weston had c****d an eyebrow and shaken his head.
“What?” he’d growled. If the kid was gonna learn to ride horses, he needed a real pair of boots. And what kid didn’t want a cowboy hat?
“When you gonna wake up and smell the coffee?” Weston had asked.
There was no coffee to smell. Dax was a good kid. And he enjoyed having Dax at the house. Why wouldn’t he want to do things that put a smile on the kid’s face? He hadn’t exactly had the easiest life to date.
And the SUV had made good sense. Granted, it d
