It was quiet in the kitchen when Tom finally got out of bed.
“Morning, JT.”
“Morning, Thaddeus,” he mumbled.
“Good morning, JT.” Rush had been living at the ranch for six months now, and he’d become such a part of the family. His little city boy.
“Morning, Rush. There any coffee?” A mug was pressed into his hand, and he raised it to his nose, inhaling deeply and then taking a grateful swallow. “Ah. Thank you.” More awake, he smiled at the two young men. “So, what’s on the menu?”
“I thought I’d make French toast?”
“Sounds good.” Tom chuckled as Thaddeus went to the freezer and took out a box of Aunt Jemima French toast. The boy did wield a mean toaster.
“With strawberries and whipped cream?”
“Sounds even better.”
“And I’m going to nuke some turkey bacon,” Rush informed him. “Why do
