Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Do you see me, Daddy?” Maverick shouts excitedly.
“I sure do, buddy! You’re doing great!” Roman pumps his fist to emphasize his point, and when he returns his hand to the metal railing, our fingers brush. Was that an accident, or did Roman intend to touch me like that? Either way, even that slight contact simultaneously sent a flutter of butterflies into my belly and a ripple of anxiety into my veins. I’m thrilled Roman is here. Seeing him again, if only once more, is all I’ve been dreaming about for weeks. But now that he’s here, I’m wary about reading too much into it. Like my mother always used to say, “Disappointment is merely another word for an expectation going unfulfilled,” so I’m determined not to expect too much out of this unexpected visit.
“Are you sure you’ve never ridden a horse before?” Roman’s father calls out to his grandson, jerking my thoughts back to the present.
“No, really, it’s my first time ever, Grampa!” Maverick calls out earnestly, not picking up on his grandfather’s sarcasm. In a flash, I recall that cute little boy (Roman’s son) emerging from the bathroom at the airport in Kauai, calling out to his grandmother (Roman’s mother—oh my God) about “what else” he saw in the bathroom. Seriously, what are the odds I felt compelled to tell Roman a cute story about his own son without realizing it? I’ve never been one to believe in signs all that much, like Ava apparently does, but I must admit that sure feels like one. Is there a greater power at work here—one that’s been pushing me toward these specific people—or am I simply grasping at straws and believing what I want to believe?
Roman bumps my side gently and whispers, “He’s having the time of his life.”
My heart skips a beat at Roman’s brief contact. “He’s doing great,” I reply. I clear my throat and shout to Maverick, “You’re almost as good a rider as me, Maverick, and I’ve been riding horses since I was even younger than you!”
Harper agrees with my sentiment as she continues her latest slow lap around the ring. To Maverick, she adds, “See how Tornado’s ears are twitching? That means she really likes you.” As Maverick gasps excitedly, Harper shoots me a secret wink, letting me know she’s as smitten with this cutie pie as I am.
“Thanks for doing this for him,” Roman whispers to me. As he says it, he nudges his body against mine again, sending another round of shock waves coursing through me. “He’s gonna be talking about this all week. Maybe even for months.”
“It’s my pleasure. He’s adorable.”
“Glad you think so, too.” He nudges me a third time, his body language flirtatious and playful, and when I dare to look up into his face, he smiles and winks, prompting my heart to momentarily beat in an irregular rhythm.
I take a deep breath. “Do you remember that little boy from the airport I told you about?” When Roman looks at me blankly, I add, “The one who answered ‘my pee-pee’ when his grandmother asked what else he saw in the bathroom besides a whale painted on the wall? That was Maverick, Roman.”
Roman looks flabbergasted. “Seriously? That’s crazy.”
“Isn’t it? I can’t believe it.”
Roman glances at his mother, who’s currently fixated on Maverick in the corral. And when he returns to me, his smile fades. Indeed, something I’d label as regret overtakes his handsome face. “If only I’d told you about Maverick when you told me that story,” he says softly, “maybe things would have turned out differently for us.”
I’m floored. “You not telling me about Maverick till later in the week isn’t the reason we parted ways, Roman. The timing wasn’t right for us back then.” I hold my breath. I’m not sure if the timing is right for us now, to be honest, but as my words came out, I felt a dangerous pang of expectation seize me—the fervent hope that now could be the right time and that things might turn out differently for us this time.
Roman drags his teeth over his lower lip, mulling that over. When he speaks, his dark eyes are locked with mine. “In Hawaii,” he says softly, “you said you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t when it came to me. I haven’t been able to get that comment out of my head, Iris. It’s tortured me.” He runs a large palm down his face. “If only I’d been brave enough to follow your lead—to let my guard down the way you did—maybe we could have overcome the bad timing.”
In what way? What does that mean? What does he expect to get out of this week in Orchard Blossom? “I didn’t open up to you voluntarily,” I manage to say. “I was forced to do it by that stupid video, remember? If not for that, who knows what kind of mysterious femme fatale I’d have pretended to be for the entire week.”