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"Ready to head over to the feed store after this?" he asks, scraping up a forkful of syrup drenched pancakes.
"Yep," I reply, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Need to stock up on supplies if I’m gonna keep that small ranch of mine running smoothly."
"Same here," Parker agrees. "Guests at Lone Star Dude Ranch eat almost as much as the horses do."
"Almost," I echo with a grin.
We finish up our meal and head out into the bright Texan sun. Climbing into my truck feels like slipping on an old glove, familiar and just right. The engine rumbles to life, and I glimpse over to see Parker doing the same in his vehicle. Then we pull out of our parking spaces and take off towards the feed store, dust kicking up behind us.
At the feed store, the scent of hay and grain fills the air. We let the cashier know what we need, pay out, and Parker and I heft bags of feed into the bed of my truck.
“Hey, Park, it looks like you’re loading up a lot more than usual. Did you guys get a lot more animals at the ranch or what?” I break the silence, hauling a sack over the side of his own truck with a grunt.
“Yeah, Casie, the owner, had to buy a few more trained horses because with that new swanky place that looks like a mansion that opened up about two miles down our road has brought in an influx of business,” Parker replies with a chuckle as he hauls a sack over the side of his own truck with a grunt. Dusting off his hands, he continues, “Which is good, but now we have more people to entertain, more animals to care for, and more mouths to feed. You know, a dude rancher’s job is never done,”
"Right, that’s great for Casie and keeps a good amount of people employed in a small town," I say while I stack another bag “So, you still don’t know what goes on at your neighbors place?”
“No, Casie is tight lipped about the whole thing. She only says that she knows the owner well, he’s a stand-up guy, and that he runs a nice establishment.”
“That’s it? Interesting.”
“Yep, you know I trust Casie, though. So, I don’t press for more than she’s willing to say,” he remarks. “Hey, you should bring Julia by, let her see how city folk handle roughing it at the dude ranch.” He laughs at that last comment, knowing full well that Casie has the accommodations there like a country five-star resort.
“Thanks for the offer, but she’s only here for a week.”
“Yeah, keeping her all to yourself to enjoy her company while it lasts," Parker suggests, raising an eyebrow and dusting his hands on his jeans.
I nod, but something tightens inside me. Enjoy Julia's company? Sure, but what happens when she leaves to go back to Houston?
"Actually, I got her something small," I confess, changing the subject slightly as I close the tailgate of my truck with a thud.
"Oh?" Parker's interest is piqued.
"Sunflower grow kit. She mentioned liking to watch things grow." I shrug, feeling a bit foolish now that I've said it out loud.
"Look at you, cowboy Casanova," Parker teases, but there's a warmth in his voice that tells me he thinks it's a good move.
"Shut it," I retort. "Just thought it'd be nice, is all."
"Nice" doesn't quite cover it. The truth is, I saw that grow kit and thought of Julia's face, bright as those sunflowers are gonna be. But I'm walking a fine line between showing her some Texas hospitality and letting her get under my skin.
"Let's get these supplies back," I suggest, eager to shift away from the topic of my unexpected houseguest and the even more unexpected feelings she's stirring up.
"Race you back?" Parker challenges with a grin as we climb into our respective trucks.
"You're on," I accept, the familiar thrill of competition giving me a temporary reprieve from thoughts of Julia and sunflowers.
We pull out of the feed store lot, engines roaring, kicking up another cloud of dust that blots out the sun momentarily.
Chapter 10
Julia
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Ryan guide a piece of cedar along the buzzing blade of his table saw. Sawdust swirls in the air, catching the rays of sunlight that sneak through the cracks of his woodshop. His forearms flex with each movement, and I can't help but admire the way his muscles play under his sweat-dampened shirt.
"Like what you see, sweetheart?" He shoots me a grin over the roar of the machine, and even though I roll my eyes, heat creeps up my neck.
"Concentrate on your wood, cowboy," I tease back, the corners of my mouth betraying my attempt at nonchalance.
