“Electricity.”
“Running water. Showers. Restrooms. Dedicated grilling areas? We need to make sure no one’s starting a wildfire out here with reckless fire practice.”
“It’s gonna be a lot, isn’t it?” Mom looks dejected.
“It is,” I agree. “But I think we can do it.”
“You’re in?”
“I’m in, Mom.” I check the watch on my wrist and curse inwardly. Rain is still hammering at the windows, and I’m supposed to call Ruth in five minutes. My cabin is ten minutes away from the main house. Longer, if I have to take a circuitous route because of the rain. “But I gotta run. I’ll check out the horse situation in the morning and call Ross, and then we’ll sit down with this tomorrow, okay? Maybe Ms Angie or Mick could join us? Jody, too.”
“Love you, honey. Drive home safe in the rain, okay?”
“Love you too, Mom.” I stand and lean across her desk, swiping my water and muffin and dropping a kiss to the top of her head before hauling ass out the door and straight to my truck. By the time I get back to my cabin, the truck is more mud-brown than rusted red, but Irush inside, dump my muffin on the kitchen counter, and immediately hit Ruth’s contact card as I head for my bedroom.
She answers with an easy smile and immediately, I feel calmer.
“Hey, Cowboy,” she says, and then frowns when she notices my soaked attire. “Did you fall into the creek?”
A harsher-than-intended laugh escapes me. “No, it’s just raining. Got caught in it. Then got caught up talking to Mom. Actually,” I say, rubbing a towel over my hair with one hand and propping my phone on my dresser with the other, so I can unbutton my shirt, “maybe I could use some of your expertise while you’re here in a couple days?”
“I’m all yours, Cowboy. Use me as you wish.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, baby girl,” I say lowly.Don’t fucking tempt me.Ruth’s eyes flare, visible even through the small screen, and I have to take a deliberate, calming breath before this call turns into something very different to what I intended.
“So, are you ready? Dinner and a movie?”
“I’m wearing myskimpiestpyjamas,” Ruth says dryly with a wry smile, and then a giggle. “Can’t you tell?”
The sharpness of her accent sends a wave of warmth crashing over me. She’s wearing that same maroon set she wore during our first FaceTime call. It looks silky, and it consists of a short-sleeved button-down shirt. From the way her phone is propped up in front of her, I can see that the bottom half of the set is matching shorts, and she’s sat cross-legged on her grey sofa, a steaming bowl of something on a small tray beside her.
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” I say, winking at the camera. I tug a plain white tee over my head and then swap my damp jeans for a pair of grey sweats, before making my way back to the kitchen. “Sorry, I’m a little behind, I’m gonna heat up some of that pasta we made the other night.”
I pull the Tupperware from the fridge and decant its contents into a bowl, before shoving it into the microwave. When it’s done, I carry the bowl, my muffin, my water bottle, and a can of Mountain Dew to the sofa. I only have two hands, though, and that means the water bottle is tucked under one arm, the drink can is in one pocket, and my phone—with Ruth’s call still in progress—is in the other. I can hear her making noises and saying things like “No, don’t put me in the pocket!” and “Ugh, your pocket is full of lint” even as I pull my phone free again.
“What are we watching? And what are you eating?” I ask. I unload the rest of my goods onto the coffee table, and I use the usual bull ornament to prop my phone in front of me, adjusting the angle so Ruth can see me.
“Spaghetti,” Ruth answers, pausing to hold her bowl at an angle so I can see the red-covered noodles inside. “Sundried tomato and chilli sauce, with chicken and bacon.”
My mouth waters at the thought.
“Can we cook that one next?” I shove a forkful of cheesy broccoli pasta into my mouth and chew hurriedly, swallowing before I continue. “That sounds great.”
“We can cook it when I’m there in a couple of days, if you want.”
“Yes, please.”
Ruth points a remote control at the TV, just past the side of her phone.
“Ready for the movie?” she asks.
“Born ready,” I say. “What are we watching?”
“Legally Blonde,” Ruth says with a smug smile, and I bite back a groan. It sounds just like the kind of girly rom-com my sister might watch, and not at all like something I’d enjoy. But for Ruth, I’m goingto man the fuck up and watch it, so I search every streaming station I have until I find it.
“You ready?”
I nod.
