Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m not, like, leaving for good.”
Ryder arches a brow. “You sure about that? Feels like leaving is all you’ve talked about.”
And now I’m starting to think that maybe I can leave and I can stay. What if they’re not mutually exclusive concepts?
Just like having a kid and having freedom aren’t mutually exclusive concepts either. Sure, having a baby takes some forms of freedom away.
But I hadn’t considered that it might give you other forms of freedom in exchange. Like the freedom to be myself with my people. The freedom to explore the world with them.
The freedom to start my damn life, whatever that looks like. Because I’m not really sure I’ve been living up to this point. Sure, I go through the motions just fine. I’m good to my family. Good at my job.
But I’ve had all the “freedom” in the world when you think about it. And what the hell have I done with it? I’m alone.
That’s something Mom and Dad wouldn’t want for me.
“By the way, I’m not saying that if you decide not to have this kid, you’re making the wrong choice,” Ryder continues. “Maybe that is the right choice at this point in your life. I just want to make sure you’re considering all angles. We’re not getting any younger, and people like Wheeler—they don’t come around all that often.”
I scoff. “No shit. I want to make the right call, and I want to keep Wheeler around. But I don’t want to have a kid just to make her stay, ya know?”
“I get it. You gotta get her to fall in love with you, so you gotta do what you do best.” He gives me a shit-eating grin. “Eye fuck the shit out of her.”
“Not funny.”
“Why’re you laughing, then?”
“Last time I come to you for advice.” I roll my eyes.
He trots over to give me a hard slap on the shoulder. “You know I’m just messin’. I think you just keep showing up for her, yeah? She says her family sucks, so show her how great family can be. Shouldn’t be hard, considering how fucking awesome we are—”
“There’s as good of a chance of y’all convincing Wheeler to stay as there is of y’all chasing her off.”
But Ryder just keeps grinning. “You’re lucky to have us, and you know it. I’ll turn on the charm for Wheeler no problem. Could be fun to have a two-for-one situation happen—Wyatt and Sally’s wedding is coming up, and I bet they’d let you and Wheeler join ’em up at the altar.”
My pulse spasms. Not because the idea of meeting Wheeler at the altar makes me panic.
It’s because it gets me excited.
Shit.
Just…shit.
Now I’m smiling too as we join the herd, John B waving us over to a calf and its mama.
I still haven’t figured things out, but it all seems a lot less heavy all of a sudden.
CHAPTER 22
God and Grilled Cheese
Wheeler
I don’t see the little parcel on top of my laptop until I sit down at my desk beside Mollie at the New House.
“What’s this?” I ask. It’s about the size of my hand and is carefully wrapped in the wax paper I recognize from the kitchen. Patsy will use it to wrap up leftovers for us after meals.
The parcel is warm.
Mollie shrugs, pops another Ritz cracker into her mouth, and makes a muffled sound that I interpret as I don’t know. We just got back from taking a quick ATV ride to check on the progress of the new Bellamy Brooks studio we’re building here on the ranch. It’s coming along swimmingly, and the views from its perch above the Colorado River are especially stunning this time of year.
“Something tells me you do know.” I carefully unwrap it, my face splitting into a smile when I see the grilled cheese sandwich inside. It’s cut on a diagonal, and when I split the two sides, the cheese oozes out in a yummy golden avalanche.
A rush of heat hits the backs of my eyes. This morning, I woke up craving grilled cheese. No clue why. Maybe because I dreamed about Aspen? My dreams have been vivid—and vividly horny—lately.
Whatever the case, I shared that info with Duke while we had coffee earlier this morning. Well, he had coffee, and I had peppermint tea, because sadly coffee has become one of the many things that doesn’t agree with me at the moment.
I fully expected him to be gone when I woke up at seven. The cowboys start their day early so I thought I’d make myself breakfast, then head up to the New House to work with Mollie.
And Duke was gone. But when I responded to the “good morning, how are you feeling?” text he sent me at four forty-eight a.m., he showed up ten minutes later at the door in his full cowboy getup and demanded I sit while he made me tea and buttered toast.