Chapter 1 #2
“I was thinking?—”
We both laugh, letting the awkwardness fade. I ask, “You were thinking?”
He runs his fingers through his hair, something I watched him do a million times when we were younger.
A shyness I don’t recognize takes over his expression, and he lowers his gaze.
“My parents sold the stables.” He looks at me, this time with an intensity that makes me wish I had something to hold on to to steady me.
“I heard. A few years back, right?”
“Yes. It was a lot to handle without me or my brother being around. They always preferred a slower pace of the small farm to feed a family over housing the toys of ranchers who only visited every six months. They hated seeing them treated like prized possessions instead of animals that deserve care and respect.” He shifts.
“Anyway, I was going to pay Rollingwood Ranch a visit in hopes of introducing my son to one of your horses.” The question isn’t obvious in the words but is clear in his eyes.
“The invitation stands. Come out anytime.”
“Thanks.”
I find myself shifting in a way that makes me feel embarrassed. Am I flirting? Am I flirting with Tagger Grange? I smile. I sure am. “Maybe we’ll even get you in some jeans and cowboy boots again, like old times.”
“I might have left The Pass, but it never left me.” He starts walking toward the counter, stopping even with me. With his hand brushed against mine, he lowers his head, and whispers, “It was good seeing you, Pris.”
My breath stops in my chest, and before I have a chance to reply, he’s already gone. I take a moment to myself and catch my breath again but fail to calm my racing heart before I turn around.
Lauralee hands him back his credit card and then shrugs. That’s when I discover what the traitor has done to me. I clasp my lips closed because what am I going to do? Rip the last cheddar biscuit from Beck’s sticky hands?
I’m supposed to be the grown-up here, but I’m feeling ready to stamp my foot in dismay and snatch it anyway. I won’t, of course, but it’s tempting, just like that biscuit.
Heading for the door, Tagger says, “Bye, ladies.”
“Bye,” we say in unison with a swoony sigh tainting our tone.
“Lordy, we’re weak,” I say to Lauralee as soon as the door closes behind them.
“Listen, we don’t get much action in the middle of nowhere Texas. That it was the Tagger Grange . . . well, it’s not the first time he’s heard a woman swoon over him.”
“True.” Anchoring my elbows on the bakery display, I drop my head into my hands. “But why does seeing him make me feel like an insecure teen again?”
She rubs my shoulder. “Because we were when he lived here. Once he was gone, though, you flourished. You don’t have to shrink just because your all-time crush is back in town. You could do the opposite and get him out of your system once and for all.”
I pop back up, ideas filling my head . . . ideas I shouldn’t even consider but suddenly am. “And by once and for all, you mean jump him?”
Laughing, she replies, “Or something a little more subtle like making love in the back of the Chevy.”
Now I’m laughing. “Thank you for indulging me, but I think it’s safest if we just stick to the platonic relationship we’ve always had as the younger sister of his best friend.
No need to muddy the waters when he’s only visiting for a few days.
” I push off and head toward the soda fountain. “I’m sure a week tops.”
“Guess we’ll see when he visits you out at the ranch.”
“Guess so.” I get a cola with light ice and two dashes of cherry cola and then cap it with a lid.
Pushing the straw in, I return to the stool that had me almost meeting the floor in pursuit of warm bread and spin around once.
“But I still need to keep my thoughts and intentions clean when it comes to him. His life is fifteen hundred miles away while I’m settled here like the previous seven-plus generations of Greenes.
” My chest deflates. “God, now I’m depressed. ”
“Don’t be. You’re a good daughter for coming home when you did. You’ve made a life for yourself.” Smiling, she adds, “And you always have me. We can grow old together rocking on the front porch.”
I pull a dollar from my pocket and lay it on the counter. “As appealing as that is, don’t you miss having a guy look at you like you’re prettier than a sunset could ever be?”
“I miss guys. Period.” She rings up the soda and slides the money into the register. “You know you don’t have to pay.”
“But I always will,” I singsong, walking backward toward the door. “I’ll take you up on that front-porch-rocking-chairs offer when we’re old and gray, though.”
She laughs. “Deal.”
“In the meantime, keep me posted if any hotties come to town.”
Throwing her arm out to the side, she says, “One just did, and you already friend zoned him.”
“Tagger Grange can never be more than a friend. First, my brother would kill me.” Holding out two fingers, I continue, “Second, I’m not sure I ever got the details of where things stand with his son’s mother.”
“They’re not together.”
My feet come to an abrupt halt. “How do you know that?”
“Peaches. She knows everything, and she’s on the Peach Festival committee with his mother. She gets all the gossip at meetings.”
My mom used to be on that committee before she passed. Hearing about it so suddenly has my chest tightening, though I know Lauralee would never mention something to hurt me. But not all wounds heal. “Then how did we not know he had a son?”
“We did know. I told you back when you—” She looks down and then says, “It was around the time of your return. A lot was going on back then.”
More doesn’t have to be shared, and I’d prefer if we didn’t.
Hoping to move past this, I reply, “Yeah.” Refocusing on the man who was just at hand, I feel a little lighter again—mind and soul.
“That still doesn’t mean he’s single, my friend.
” I start backing toward the door until my back rests against the handlebar.
“So third, I’m sure he has a stable of women waiting for him back in New York City.
La de dah and fancy pants. I’m just a small-town girl with dirt under my nails.
I think I’m safe from falling under his spell. ”
“Again.”
“You don’t let anything slide, do you?”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“So are enemies.” I laugh as the bell chimes when I exit. “You also owe me a biscuit.”
“Next Friday,” she calls out before the door closes.
I head to the truck, still laughing, until I notice my nails while reaching for the door. Shaking my head, I try not to feel embarrassed. It’s not a competition for Tagger Grange’s attention. I have too much on my plate to worry about being perfect for a man who’s basically passing through town.
It still might be time to have a girls’ night again to get my nails done and a haircut. I might be a whiz at cutting split ends, but my nails need outside help.
I start the truck and back out, creating a plume of dust behind me. Needing to get back to the ranch, I shift into drive and leave my encounter with Tagger right where it should be—in the rearview mirror.
But why am I still thinking about him when I cross onto Rollingwood Ranch property fifteen minutes later? I know. I just hate to admit it.
It sure was good to see him again . . .