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)
A pang in my chest I’m all too familiar with returns. It’s not fair she’s gone. No goodbye. No last I love you. Nothing but my dad calling to tell me no one survived the car accident.
I tuck my hair behind my ears like she used to do, barely able to still hear her telling me I have such a pretty face. Almost . . . Her voice is fading from the memories I have so desperately tried to hold on to. I hate that she lives in videos and photos but not here with us anymore.
Swiping at the unexpected emotion sliding onto my face, I raise my chin and return to bed once more, determined to find sleep.
Of course, I didn’t bargain on Tagger haunting me all night either. But here he is, plain as day in my head again. I guess some crushes never go away. I’m going to be rocking on that front porch with Lauralee and still thinking about him.
I clench my eyes, knowing he’s at the forefront of my mind only because I saw him again today. But when I start accepting that thinking about him won’t end until he flies back out of here, I realize today that he saw me as well.
At eighteen, I swear he noticed me for the first time, but he would never cross that line. Wonder what he thinks now that I’m eight years older?
Flipping over, I cover my face with the pillow, hoping to smother some sense into myself. Tagger Grange will be my undoing. I felt it back at the store. I lose my better judgment when he’s in town. I need to keep my distance because he’s nothing but trouble when hanging around.
The sun rose too early for my liking, but I still drag myself out of bed and stumble my way through getting dressed for the day. With some of the crew visiting family in Houston for a few days, I take over making sure the horses are fed and the irrigation system goes off as scheduled in the lower acres of crops.
Too busy for breakfast, I’m starving and finally head back toward the house. The crops aren’t tall enough to hide the dust I spy in the air in the distance. I pick up the pace because I know that means we have visitors.
A gray sedan is parked near my truck when I reach the yard. I don’t see anyone when I look around. Shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand, I turn back to see if they’ve climbed the fence.
“Hey, stranger.”
My attention whips to the barn to find Tagger and Beck heading toward me. “Hey,” I say, lowering my hand. “You’re out and about early.”
He checks his watch. With his brows narrowed, he replies, “It’s almost eleven.”
“Oh, it felt earlier to me.”
Coming to a stop with a few feet remaining between us, he smiles. It’s so genuine that I wish I’d had time to prepare for it. Though admittedly, my heartbeat had already picked up speed from the very sight of him. “Time always did slip away out in these fields.”
“Still does.” Kneeling, I smile at his son who stands looking around. “Hi, Beck. Did you come out to see the horses?”
He jumps, stomping his feet back in the dirt to cause a little dust cloud to form. “Yes!” I love how everything sounds like such an adventure to him. He’s the cutest kid. I remember Tag having that same color hair when he was young and eyes wide with possibility before life took hold.
I glance at his dad. It’s easy to get caught in his looks. He’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, still after all these years. It’s easy to be drawn to the charisma of his ways—easygoing, funny, and gives you his full attention when you’re speaking. But it’s his eyes that give him away. The charm doesn’t quite reach them like it used to, and if I get the chance to stare into them for longer than a few seconds, I can see he brought some troubles back home with him.
It's not something I have a right to pry into with questions, and I would never do so in front of his kid, but it’s noted.
To Beck, I smile again because he makes it hard not to, and say, “I like the enthusiasm. We can head over now or—”
“We don’t want to get in the way if you’re busy.”
The scoff erupts before it can be stifled. “We’re running a ranch . . .” I signal toward the hill that leads to the acres of crops we grow there. “And farm. When are we not busy out here?” His smile falters. I didn’t intend to make him feel bad, so I say, “It’s lunchtime. I was just coming to the house to eat something. Want to join me?” I start walking. Maybe the invite isn’t only for him. I reap the benefits of his company as well. “It’s not fancy. BLT sandwiches are on the menu today.”