Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
His hands are soft when he reaches to shake mine. His eyebrows are perfectly groomed, and he reeks of overpowering cologne to the point it’s almost migraine-inducing. It strikes me then that he’s a faux cowboy. Maybe that’s why he took this assignment.
I give him my best smile, suddenly aware that Bronco is closer to me. He’s moved from the rocking chair. He’s now standing behind me, his big body crowding my space. He’s protecting my back, as if we have something to fear from this city slicker playing dress-up. Even though this wannabe isn’t a threat, there’s still no one I’d rather have my back than Bronco.
Reed takes my hand and mutters some pleasantries, but I can’t concentrate with Bronco so close to me. It’s always this way. It’s hard to focus on anything when I have this sexy cowboy beside me.
He holds my hand for a bit too long, but then his gaze drifts to Bronco, and he pales slightly. He drops my hand quickly and swallows.
Bronco holds out his hand in introduction and welcomes Reed to the Valor Ranch, although his tone doesn’t sound all that welcoming. He sounds a little bit menacing, a note in his voice I’ve never quite heard before.
“Are you ready for your tour?” I beam at Reed, doing my best to be a gracious host.
“Yep,” Bronco says. “We can’t wait to show you around.”
As soon as he says the words, I frown. The deal was that I would show Reed around the farm, but it’s obvious that Bronco has changed the plan. But I’m not upset. There’s no one who knows more about this farm, or who could better sell it, than Bronco.
The moment we’re in the barn, Cord and Flint show up. It’s not long before Flint has started joking and putting everyone at ease. From there, the rest of the morning just flows. The guys introduce Reed to the animals, answering all of his ranching questions, and even tell him he can come back next week for a horse ride.
When he’s gone, I turn to the three men and breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you! You guys were wonderful, really. Especially you, Flint.”
“Happy to help.” He gives me a nod before he and Cord move to the south pasture where they mentioned they have fences to mend. The picturesque farm scenes in paintings never show the sheer amount of work that goes into keeping a place like this running.
“You gave them too much credit,” Bronco grumps. “You’re the one who kept charming him.”
I wave my hand, brushing away the words that make me feel warm inside. There’s something about a compliment from Bronco. It’s almost as good as chocolate. It definitely makes me just as happy. “I have to get back to the center. Thanks again for going along with this crazy idea.”
I want to reach for him. I want to kiss him on the cheek again or rather, the face. I’d also like to kiss him all over. But that would make this situation even more awkward so like the coward I am, I turn to my car and make a quick getaway.
Thankfully, the retirement community was quiet while I was gone, so it’s easy to catch up on all of the messages and help requests from the residents. It’s mid-afternoon by the time I knock on Aunt Elaine’s office door.
The doorplate isn’t like the standard brass ones featured in other offices. No, this one is hand-painted with lemon trees on it. The cheerful design always makes me smile.
“Come in,” Aunt Elaine calls in her lilting voice.
The wooden floorboards creak beneath my red kitten heels as I enter the room. Most of the boards are covered with colorful rugs in whimsical designs except for one corner of the office that’s almost entirely taken up by a huge dog bed.
Her Golden Retriever, Daisy who has a nearly white muzzle and a bright pink collar, sleeps peacefully in the corner, snoring loudly as drool falls from her mouth. She’s probably dreaming of chasing squirrels again.
Elaine looks up at me grimly from her lime green office chair. She always looks grim these days, and it’s my fault. “Is everything OK?”
I settle in one of the fuchsia chairs across from her desk. For as long as I can remember, she’s always been so colorful, and today is no exception. She has a bright purple shawl wrapped around her shoulders and gold bangle bracelets halfway up her arm. “Bronco agreed to my fundraising idea.”
She reaches for the takeout cup of iced coffee with the Sprinkles logo on it then sets it back on the desk, right over the handmade coaster from my senior year art project. I’m pretty sure this desk is older than I am, passed down between generations that were dedicated to caring for the seniors in the community. “This isn’t your fault.”