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"Yep," he nods firmly, but there's a teasing glint in his eye. "The rest of the time, you're gonna relax and have some fun. Deal?"
I bite my lip, considering. Can I really do this? Trim down my workday to a mere sliver? Then again, looking into those warm, inviting eyes, the challenge seems less daunting and more... thrilling.
"Deal," I say, and it feels like I'm stepping off a precipice into a new life. "But only if 'fun' includes more horseback riding, and maybe you teaching me a thing or two about woodworking."
"Darlin', it would be my pleasure." His smile is wide now, and infectious.
"Alright then," I agree with a growing smile of my own. "Two hours for work, the rest for living."
"Living," he repeats, and something about the way he says it makes me believe it's going to be an adventure worth every second not spent on my laptop.
Chapter 9
Ryan
The bell above the diner door jingles as I push it open, the scents of coffee and fried bacon welcoming us like an old friend. Parker's right on my heels, his spurs clicking against the linoleum floor, a sound that’s as much Heartville as the blue skies and wide-open fields outside.
"Morning, Ryan," greets Clay Walker, Heartville's resident veterinarian, from a booth by the window. His hat's pushed back, revealing laugh lines around eyes that have seen more calving seasons than most. Levi, covered in grease stains that tell tales of engines and elbow grease, raises his coffee mug in salute.
"Clay. Levi." I nod, tipping my own hat. "How's it going?"
"Can't complain," Clay drawls. "Parker, I heard Sugar had a bit of a rough go?"
"Twisted her ankle in a gopher hole," Parker says, grimacing at the thought of his prized mare limping. “She’s tough though, just like her owner.”
Levi chuckles, sipping his coffee. "That horse got more grit than a sandstorm. She'll be bucking and snorting in no time."
"Sure hope so," my brother chimes in. "We've got guests at the dude ranch itching for a ride, and Sugar's always the star attraction."
"Give her a day or two," Clay advises, scratching at his stubble. "Let her rest up. I can swing by later, take another look if you want."
"Appreciate it, Clay. You're a lifesaver," Parker says with genuine gratitude. I nod along, knowing full well how important Clay's expertise is to keeping our animals healthy.
"Anytime, boys. That's what I'm here for," he says, then glances over at Levi. "Ain't that right?"
"Yep," Levi confirms, grinning. "Just like I'm here to keep your trucks runnin' so you can get to those animals in the first place."
"Teamwork makes the dream work," Parker jokes, and we all share a knowing smile before heading towards a booth to place our order. It's moments like these—simple, friendly exchanges—that remind me why I hang my hat in Heartville. It may not be all sunshine and roses, but it's home. And that suits me just fine.
I slide into the booth opposite Parker, and we both grab menus even though we already know what we're going to order. It's a little dance we've done countless times. It’s comfort in the familiar routine.
"Can you believe Momma and Vivian?" I shake my head, incredulous as I set the menu down. "Setting up Julia like that, sending her to my doorstep in the middle of the night."
Parker leans back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Seems like they're playing matchmaker from the shadows." He chuckles. "Question is, how'd they even cross paths? Vivian's all city, and you know Momma hasn't left Heartville since the '90s."
"Beats me," I add, still puzzled by the whole situation. "It's like they're part of some secret society for meddling mothers."
"Or they just hit it off at some charity event we don't know about," Parker suggests, taking a sip of his iced tea. "Either way, we won't get the full story until we corner them together."
"Corner" is right. I imagine trying to get a straight answer out of either woman will be like wrestling a greased pig; messy and with a lot of squealing. Although, I'm grateful that Julia seems to be enjoying her impromptu stay. Even if it's temporary.
The waitress, Doris, comes over with a pot of coffee and two plates stacked with the diner's famous protein breakfast, including eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns and a side of pancakes. "Here you go, boys. Fuel for the hardworking ranchers."
"Thanks, Doris," we chorus, knowing this meal will hold us over well past sundown.
"Anytime, darlin's," she replies with a wink before bustling off to tend to her other tables.
We dig in, and between mouthfuls, Parker glances out the window at our trucks parked side by side, a silent reminder of our next errand.
