Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“So you know how our birthdays are coming up, right?” Courtney said.
I nodded, rubbing my chin while absently staring into the distance. “I vaguely recall you both having a birthday in June.”
“Well,” Courtney paused as Abby whispered something in her ear. “I’m getting there,” she whisper-yelled back before flashing me a nervous smile. “Anyway, um, we were kind of wondering if maybe you could come to our party this year?”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet. Of course. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it last year.”
It was clearly the wrong thing to say—for me.
Based on their excited giggles and the way they bounced on their toes, I’d fallen directly into their trap.
As if they’d been practicing it the whole drive there, they alternated speaking, each word growing louder than the last.
“Will.”
“You.”
“Get us.”
“Tickets.”
They looked at each other and then blurted out in unison, “To see Henry Alexander!”
I opened my mouth, but Terry got there first. “Absolutely not!”
All eyes turned his way.
“I’ve seen the way that man dances on stage. You don’t need to pay money for that.” He put his hands on his hips, gyrating in a way that made my stomach roll.
His daughters shared that sentiment in unison. “Ew, Dad!”
Jenn stared at her husband in disgust. “Sorry, babe. That was too much even for me.”
Terry glanced over at Brooke and Zoey at the table in the corner, hoping for backup. Even my poor, sweet girl knew to be horrified.
“Nobody gets me.” He slashed a hand through the air and then went back to cooking.
Still trying to shake the image from my head, I turned my attention back to my nieces. “How many tickets?”
They let out loud squeals, hugging and jumping in a circle.
I looked at Jenn. “Shall we?”
She set her coffee on the counter and popped her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.”
“Oh my God!” we mocked in high-pitched cries, bouncing around.
The girls found us exactly zero percent funny. Though they wanted those tickets, so they at least had the good sense to pretend. It was safe to say neither of them would follow in my footsteps with an acting career.
Courtney twirled her straight brown hair around her finger. “Maybe six? That way we can each bring two friends.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do you, like, know him?” Courtney asked.
“Kinda. He’s actually writing a single for that movie I just wrapped.”
Abby let out a breathy sigh. “You are the coolest.”
I laughed. “I appreciate that, but if you really want to thank me, you need to remind your mom of that every day.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Jenn deadpanned. “She might know Henry Alexander, but I get to decide if you two are allowed to go to the concert or not.” She jerked her chin toward the sink. “There sure are a lot of dirty dishes over there.”
They did not delay in scurrying away, and no sooner than the water turned on Zoey trotted over to join them.
The kitchen was far from large, so Jenn kept her voice low as she said, “I heard about Sebastian. God, I wish I could have been here.”
“Me too,” Brooke agreed.
They shared a knowing look as if somewhere along the way they had agreed that their mutual disdain for each other was significantly less important than their mutual disdain for Sebastian Cristobal.
“Where’s Daddy?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s digging in Mom’s closet.” She tossed up a pair of air quotes. “Finding the girls something less revealing to wear.” Jenn shrugged. “Pretty good morning, all things considered.”
Boy, was she right about that.
And I had one man to thank.
After pouring a mug of coffee—black, just the way he liked it—I headed out the door.
The morning was already warm; the sun hanging high in the sky. I crossed the driveway and walked into the barn, only to find it empty.
I walked the length of it anyway, checking each stall.
Clean. Freshly bedded. Water buckets filled. Feed buckets stacked.
I found Salty and Snickers already in the field grazing, while Beans stood at the gate—six hours too early for his next meal and seriously annoyed about it.
Devon had done the entire morning feeding alone.
I wasn’t sure about the exact specifics of his job description, but I knew with absolute certainty farm chores were not a part of it.
Helping me in the mornings was sweet enough.
Doing it all while I slept late took it to a completely different level. And suddenly the fact that my alarm hadn’t gone off wasn’t such a mystery anymore.
I stood there for a moment, a myriad of feelings creeping into my chest.
While all of it was incredibly romantic, it wasn’t the grand gesture that got me.
It wasn’t the flights, or the phone calls, or that he’d orchestrated all the people I loved appearing in my house like some kind of midnight miracle.
It was this.
The sweet nothings of mucking horse shit and taking care of animals he didn’t quite trust.