“That sounds nice,” I say, slowly. It sounds more than nice. I’ve thought about Everett a lot since we met in New York. Even when I haven’t been trying to. His dark curls, his grey eyes, his smooth laugh, and that southern twang. That boyish grin that makes my knees feel weak. And now he’s offering to show me around his town? It feels crazy to say yes, given that he’s a total stranger. But it feels foolish, like I could be turning down the opportunity of a lifetime, to say no.
We lapse into a comfortable silence for a few beats.
“Here.” Everett pushes his phone along the bar towards me. “Give me your number. You can let me know next time you’re in town—or maybe if I’m in New York, I can let you know, y’know, just in case…”
I pick up the phone. It’s warm from his pocket, and the wallpaper is a photo of Everett and a young, pretty girl with his eyes and a button nose. His sister, I assume. They’re grinning at the camera, standing amid the hustle and bustle of Times Square in daylight. I tap my number in and save it as ROO with my favourite kangaroo emoji. Then, in a show of boldness, I use his phone to call my own number.
“There.” I push his phone back to him. “Now I have your number, too. I’ll let you know when I’m around.”
He glances at his phone and mutters under his breath, draining his glass and hopping down from the bar stool.
“I’ll see you again soon, Ruth.” He places his hat on his head and a warm hand on my shoulder before flashing that dazzling smile and walking away.
Chapter six
Everett
Ican’t quite believethat out of billions upon billions of people, the one who sat down beside me at the bar last week was the one woman I haven’t been able to get out of my head. The one I knew next-to-nothing about, other than that she smelled like oranges, drank margaritas, and her name was Ruth.
I know just a little more about her now, and it only makes me hungrier. She’s even more beautiful than I remember from New York. Long lashes frame her eyes: dark, with just a hint of something—a bright, springtime sparkle. Dark hair falling over her shoulders. Those blunt bangs are already growing out into some curtain-like things that always fall forward when she tucks her hair behind her ears.
And I wouldn’t even have run into her again if I hadn’t spent another few days in New York with Ashton. I think I’ve come hometwenty pounds heavier, stuffed to the gills with all of the brownies and cupcakes she made me taste-test, but hot damn, it was worth it—for the food, and for running into Ruth again at the airport. If there’s one thing Ashton Tanner can do, it’s bake. Her couch might not be much comfort for sleeping on, but my god, she is unmatched in the kitchen when it comes to sweets.
We did some more of the tourist stuff too, of course. She took me out to some off-the-beaten-path neighbourhoods with some fun diners and cool boutiques, and we took the ferry out to Ellis Island when the weather finally held up. We took hundreds of photos of ourselves standing against every landmark we could get to. I’ve missed having my sister around since she moved to New York, and if my first trip didn’t, then this second, impromptu visit only made me realise I need to visit her more often.
Now, though, I’m home, replacing some fencing out on the far western pasture before we rotate some cattle out here later this week, and my phone has just vibrated in my pocket. I pull it out with one hand and use the other to absent-mindedly rub a line down Della’s nose as she nudges at me.
ROO
this made me think of you
*attachment: one image*
It’s like she knew I’d been thinking of her. We’ve texted a little back and forth over the last week, but I’ve always been the one to initiate a conversation. This time, Ruth texted me first, and as I wipe sweat from my brow with the hem of my tank top, I feel a little giddy at the thought. The photo Ruth has sent is of a piece of art in a frame sat on what looks like a bookshelf. The artwork itself readscowboys do it better, and it’s decorated with a hat, boots, a cactus, and a length of rope tied like a lasso. I laugh out loud. It’s kind of cute, in a stereotypical country kind of way.
That, and the fact that it made Ruth think of me. My thumbs fly across the screen as I type a message back. It has a smug grin spreading across my face.
Everett
100% true
ROO
is that so?
what, pray tell, do you do better?
Everett
come back to Austin and I’ll show you
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and step into the stirrup, swinging one leg over Della’s back. The fence is just about fixed, and the way the sun is getting higher and higher in the sky tells me it’s time to head back to the house and grab some lunch, before I sit down to help Mom with some admin work for the ranch.
I could’ve hung out with Brooks and Jody today. Brooks invited us both over to shoot the shit, and I’m pretty sure he and Jody are over there right now. Brooks rents one of the cabins in what we’ve always called ‘The Village’—a small cluster of cabins rented out to the ranch hands, or occasionally to outside contractors who come in and spend time here. It’s about a ten-minute walk from my place, or three, if you’re racing ATVs.
Don’t ask me how I know that.
We have another cluster of cottages on the other side of one of the paddocks—The Hamlet, as it’s affectionately known—and we rent those out sometimes for some small summer camps. They’re a littlefancier, perfectly located for some stargazing when the Texas sky is clear at night. My cabin is a little larger than most of the others, and it’s much more secluded than The Village. It’s a two-storey A-frame, hidden by a cluster of cedar elms, and it backs onto a creek that runs through our land and the Fishers’. Over on the other side of the creek, accessible either by walking knee-deep through the water, or by crossing a small bridge about six hundred yards east, there’s another matching cabin. It’s the one Grandaddy earmarked for Ashton. I stop in every couple weeks to make sure there are no animals getting in, and keep the water running clean.
