Justin’s grandfather sat down across from him at the big round table in the Double-C’s kitchen. “But nobody wants to listen to an old man anymore.” Gloria snorted softly. “Don’t try the poor-me tack, Squire. Nobody buys it.” She set a pitcher of syrup on the table next to the waffle she’d already given Justin. A waffle he didn’t want, but one he didn’t have the heart to deny. Not when his grandmother and grandfather were the only ones who hadn’t basically slammed a door in his face. His parents were furious. His brother was livid. The rest of the family had pretty much been disgusted. His uncle Matt—who ran the ranch and along with his wife lived in the big house with Squire and Gloria—had blandly suggested Justin bed down in the barn. He hadn’t been joking. The howling puppy Justin had been trying to contain had received a better welcome.
