Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Hey, it’s okay.” She reached out and rubbed my shoulder. “Experience has made you question whether real love exists, but give it time. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that love cannot be rushed. You can wish on every star and birthday candle and fluffy dandelion head for twenty years, but you can’t will it into being. It happens when it happens.”
I smiled. “I’m really happy for you. And for Cole.”
“Thanks.” She returned the smile. “I’m so glad you’ll be at the wedding. And you know what?”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about what’s down the road. If I could do anything differently, I’d go back and tell myself not to agonize so much. It took a lot of patience and strength to hold out for what I really wanted, but it was worth the wait. And I truly believe what’s meant to be will be.”
“You’re right,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m going to stop worrying.”
“Good. Love is sneaky, you know. It tends to hit you when you least expect it.” Above us, thunder rolled softly in the distance. Cheyenne looked up and laughed. “Just like lightning.”
I laughed too, giving her a quick hug. “We better go. I’ll see you soon.”
When I got home, I found Mr. Weaver and Elliott sitting at the kitchen table eating giant bowls of Cap’n Crunch.
“What’s this?” I asked, setting down the bag with my new heels in it.
“We got hungry,” Elliott said, lifting a heaping spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “Eugene said we could have a snack.”
“Eugene?” I raised my eyebrows.
“He said to call him that,” Elliott answered defensively.
“I did.” Mr. Weaver took a bite of cereal. “Mr. Weaver made me sound like an old man. I don’t want to be an old man.”
I laughed, and he winked at me. It seemed like he was having a really good day today. It was definitely the sharpest he’d been since I’d arrived.
“Is it okay?” Elliott asked, dripping milk on the table.
“It’s fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “But what are we going to do about your dinner?”
“We can have it later. After our snack, Eugene is going to teach me to play gin rummy.”
“That sounds like fun,” I said. “While you’re playing, I’ll get dinner together and we can eat a little later tonight. Where’s Beckett?”
“In the barn.” Elliott tried to unhinge his jaw to fit the towering pile of Cap’n Crunch on his spoon in his mouth.
“Okay. I’m going to go out and let him know dinner will be a little later,” I said, heading for the mudroom. “I’ll be right back.”
I went out the back door and headed across the yard for the barn. Darker clouds were rolling in from the west, and a cool breeze moved through the hot, humid air, ruffling my dress around my legs. Thunder continued to rumble every couple minutes, and the air smelled like a storm.
Stepping through the open double doors, I flapped at a fly that buzzed around my head and let my eyes adjust to the dim light.
Dust and chaff swam through the air like fish in an aquarium. Pudge, Beckett’s horse, stuck his nose out of his stall, as if he was hoping for some attention. I rubbed his velvety nose before moving on, my flats shuffling over hay-strewn concrete. I reached the end of the barn without seeing Beckett and figured I must have missed him when I walked by the tack room. But when I backtracked and poked my head in, he wasn’t there either. Thunder growled again overhead, a little louder now.
When I heard creaking boards above me, I looked up. “Beckett?” I called.
He didn’t answer. I looked around and spotted a wooden ladder leading to the hay loft. I went over and climbed up, spotting him as soon as my head cleared the rectangular opening. It was a large rectangular space with hay bales piled along the perimeter and tossed haphazardly on the floor. It was slightly darker up here, although grayish light slanted in from windows at either end.
“Hey,” I said, reaching the top.
“Hey.” He glanced at me, making my breath hitch. His forehead was shiny, his jeans were a mess, and his T-shirt was stained with sweat. His boots were caked with mud, his hair looked like he’d tossed his hat somewhere and run his fingers through it, and if I got near enough, I knew he’d probably smell like a hard day’s work.
Still, he was the hottest man I’d ever seen.
I moved closer. “Whatcha doin’ up here all by your lonesome?”
“Seeing how badly the roof needs repairing. We don’t use this space much for hay storage anymore since I put up the new sheds, so—” He laughed as I slipped my arms around his waist, pressing my chest to his. “You’re not gonna want to get that close, Mad. I’m filthy. And I don’t even want to think about what I must smell like.”