Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
The hat shades her face, but I liked seeing her bare skin and the freckles dabbed across her nose earlier. Twenty-six . . . Old enough to get into some trouble with, but still young enough to get my ass kicked again by her brother. Of course, she could be fifty, and he’d still find a problem, so maybe I need to forget about the threat he once made and see her as her own woman now.
She’s fucking gorgeous. I’m looking right at her when she anchors a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes at me. My lips wriggle sideways. She’s cute, a little wild like an unbroken horse, doing things her way despite how it’s always been done. Or maybe in spite of how it goes around this place. The ranch and farm are thriving, and I’d be willing to believe it’s because she probably doesn’t take shit from anyone. I hope she doesn’t.
Beck feeds another carrot to a different horse coming to get a treat, then launches himself off the rail with no fear. If that doesn’t sum up being a kid—flying free, feeling like the day never ends, and can’t wait to wake up for the adventures to begin. He’s playful but more reserved in the city.
Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I start toward them. I reach the fence and hold my hand out for the horse to smell before stroking the front of their head. “Girl?”
“Yes. Bluebelly. She’s a sweetheart. She foaled for the first time last year.”
Keeping my eyes on the horse, I admire her white and brown markings. “Colt or filly?”
“Colt,” Christine says, sending her gaze to search the distance. “Hang around long enough, and Skyward will come for a carrot. He’s our most curious horse of our stable, but he also loves a nap under the big peach tree closer to the gardens.”
“That’s a good spot. I may have napped there myself once or twice.” Nudging my son, I ask, “Hey, Beck? Want to pet her?”
“Yeah.”
I pick him up, holding him in front of me. “Gentle strokes like this.”
He does as he’s shown and smiles when Bluebelly leans in closer. I keep noting the simplest acts feel like a big deal when I’m with Beck. This is the first horse he’s ever pet, and I have the privilege of becoming a part of a memory being made. Beats brokering deals worth millions. I’d trade pretty much anything to share more times like this with him.
She says, “She likes you.” Reaching forward, Christine scratches along her neck. “They’re incredible creatures.”
“They are.” When I catch her checking her watch, I say, “Let us know if we need to get out of your hair.”
Looking at me from under the brim of her hat, she smiles. “You’re a nice distraction.”
I should take that at face value, but she’s planted a seed I’ll be watering the rest of the night and probably into tomorrow. It’s becoming one of many growing larger the more time we spend together.
She adds, “Beck said you’re coming for dinner.” Giving his shoulder a little squeeze, she looks down at him. When he looks up at her, I’m starting to think they’ve hatched this plan together.
“Did he now?”
Beckett nods. Guilty little bugger.
“Well, we promised Grammy we’d be home for dinner.”
“Ah man,” Beck groans, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking some dirt up.
My gaze flicks to Christine and then to him again before kneeling and whispering in his ear so she can hear, “How about we invite Miss Christine over to ours for dinner?”
“Yes.” He peers back at her. I catch the sweet smile growing on her face right before he asks, “Want to come to Grammy and Pops for dinner?”
Her gaze bounces from him to me, and then she rubs his head. “I’d like that. What time should I be there?”
“You can ride with us.” I lean against the fence, propping my foot on the railing to play this off like it’s no big deal, but nothing about this conversation feels natural. Glancing over at her, I realize I want her to say yes. Not for Beck but for me.
Being this close to her, I see a smudge of dirt streak across the bridge of her nose and her pretty blue eyes set on mine like she sees something interesting in me.
When our eyes meet, she shifts, looking down at her boot toeing the ground in front of her. “You’d be stuck driving me all the way back.” Her eyes land on me again, posing a question her lips never asked.
“I don’t mind.” I shrug, angling my gaze toward the horse who’s lost interest. “Unless you want your truck for a quick getaway.” I look at her again, wanting to see her reaction.
A grin shapes her face, and she laughs. “Why would I need that?”