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)
I know it’s best we don’t delve deeper, but I’m still disappointed we’ve abandoned the topic so quickly. I ask, “And you?”
Should I be pushing him to the point of uncomfortable? No.
But do I like to watch him squirm? Yes.
With the roast pan in his hands, he sets it down and faces me. “I liked spending time with you today, too.” There’s a hint of rebellion in his tone, but his smile is genuine. Good to know I wasn’t alone in feeling that way. “And if it matters, it never bothered me when you hung around when we were kids.”
“If that’s the case, maybe we can be friends starting now. Equal footing as adults. What do you say?”
I tempt a lopsided grin right out of him. “I’d say that’s fair. Forget about all the other stuff. Friends?” He holds out his hand. Just as I take it, we’re startled by heavy footsteps.
“Christine Greene,” his father says, coming from the hall near the stairs. “What brings you by?” Walking straight to the roast, he lowers to get a good whiff. “Man, I’m starving.”
I reply, “I—”
“I’m glad you’re here for dinner. I want to hear about your dad and how he’s doing.”
“Of course. Thank you for having me.” I think that’s my cue to leave. “I’m going to join Mrs. Grange on the porch.”
He looks up and says, “Let Mary know dinner won’t be long.”
“I will.” I walk outside, closing the door behind me. I bring the glasses to the table between a rocking chair where Mary sits holding Beck on her lap and the white wicker loveseat that’s seen better days. The sun does a lot of damage to things left unattended too long. “Mr. Grange said dinner is almost ready. Is it okay if I open it?”
“Yes, please.” After a kiss to Beck’s head, she tells him, “Go and have fun.” He takes off running as if freedom tastes too good to waste sitting around with the ladies on a porch.
Leaning forward toward me, she whispers, “Now let’s gossip. Tell me everything.”
I start to laugh. Twisting off the cap, I say, “I’m not sure there’s much to tell these days. You know how it goes in Peachtree.” I generously fill both glasses.
“I do, but there must be something the young people here are up to or the latest church news. Who’s been caught cheating or who was seen out at the bars when they shouldn’t have been.” She sips her wine. “This piece of paradise is a part of who I am, but the nights are a lot quieter these days.” She looks at me as I settle onto the loveseat. The gentle tip at the corners of her lips can’t conceal the sincerity in her expression. It’s all laid bare for me. “I miss the bustling of the boys and the busyness of running the stables and seeing people, talking to others.”
“I know that feeling. I mean, not the kids’ part but the quiet part.” Directing my gaze toward the sunset, I say, “I don’t know that I’d trade these views for anything, but it would be nice to share them with someone.”
She nods. “I met Justin in high school. He was a year older. We just clicked. Do you go on dates?” It’s odd to be asked questions that the men in my life never do. Lauralee and I commiserate, but it feels good to have a different perspective, and it’s comforting, like how it might have been with my mom.
“Truth be told,” I start with a laugh, “the selection isn’t great.”
“I imagine it’s not. And it’s not like Prince Charming is going to show up on the ranch out of nowhere.”
I grin. “Exactly.” She gets it. “Lauralee and I go to the bar every so often, but it’s no better there.”
“And Dover County? Do they have any worthy prospects?”
“Define worthy.” This time, we both laugh.
Although she’s sitting back, her gaze volleying between watching Beck handle a stick like a wizard and me sharing how pathetic my dating life is, she reaches over and squeezes my hand. Looking only at me this time, she says, “It can’t be easy running a ranch out here as a woman. You need a partner who respects your position and deserves all the love you have inside you. Don’t settle, okay, Christine?”
My feelings wrap around my heart, giving it a little squeeze as tears form in the corners of my eyes. She’s setting her glass down and moving next to me in seconds. With her arm around my back, she rubs and whispers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I dip my head and swipe under my eyes, hoping I won’t look like a raccoon from my mascara running. It feels good to be embraced in her arms like I’m one of her own.