“I can’t wait. Keep me updated?”
“Will do.”
We exchange I love yous, and I find the other few ingredients needed to make chili this week, then head to the very small and limited pharmaceutical aisle. While they have children’s cold and flu meds, Gas chewables and an open box of Band-Aids, there’s not too much else. At the counter, when paying for my groceries, I ask the checker if she knows what’s up.
“I’m actually looking for disposable, one-time-use heating pads,” I explain, making the shape of a kidney bean with my hands, the way Tate did.
Doris looks me up and down. “You married to a bull rider?”
The question takes me aback, because the jump from female buying heating pad to she’s married to a sore, worn-out bull rider is big, but also, quite accurate. I smile. “Nope.”
She frowns.
“Bronc rider.” I wink, and Doris cracks a smile.
“Well, we sold out of those yesterday, before the preliminaries.” She taps the side of her temple. “Those fine men thought ahead.”
I hold up my hand and wiggle my finger with the gold wedding band. “Or their wives.” I shrug. “But not me. We just got married nearly two months ago, so I’m new to needing the shelves at home stocked with heating pads.”
Doris smiles and shows me her ring. “I’m married to a bronc rider, too.” She looks at the ring for a moment, her features shifting from excited to downtrodden instantly. “Was.”
Oh no. Was. The worst word in the world when referring to love. “Oh, Doris,” I sigh, patting her hand as I slip the bag of groceries down my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Her wrinkles go taut as her face twists up in a moment of confusion before she erupts in a short fit of laughter. “Oh, no, honey. He’s not dead. He’s just an asshole who cheated on me.”
Reaching over the credit card terminal, she slips the receipt into the bag. “He was a winner, and the ego kept growing. Some men just can’t say no to the buckle bunnies.”
My stomach sours at her comment.
“Oh, honey, I’m talking from the hurt. I’m sure your man is loyal, loyal, loyal.” Her smile is delicate. “Who’d you marry?”
I lick my lips. “Landry Vaughn.”
She smiles. “He’s a winner, and a good man. You married a good one.”
And for whatever reason, even though I know she’s right, that Landry is good and sweet and all things wonderful, I leave that store feeling off, for the second time today.
Three different drug stores and I finally found the heating pads. I did have to leave Sable Sky, but it was worth it if these things help Landry feel better. Vaughn Ranch comes into view as I make my way back down the road. Wearing paint, a shutter now hanging by one mere nail, broken slats in the porch, siding that’s seen more sun than not—looking at the place, you’d never guess it was filled with so much passion and love, but it is.
I shift my car into park and unclip my belt, still staring at this home. It’s going to be my home, forever. After Landry wins and the film releases, we’ll fix it up. But I don’t want to go crazy. Part of the charm and comfort is knowing I fell in love here, when it looked just this way. Maintaining its weathered facade somehow, in my romantic little heart, preserves these glorious months of meeting and falling in love with Landry Vaughn.
Snaking the bags up my arms, I use the heel of my pink boot to kick the door closed. For as many pockets as overalls have, they really don’t make carrying heavy groceries easier.
At the porch, I notice the front door is closed, instead of it being open with the screen closed. With no working AC, flow through the house is the most important, I’ve learned. Even at night, we don’t always close doors and windows. Sable Sky is safe, and the cool, stillness of evening is sometimes the only respite we get from heat.
Opening the door carefully so as not to break the glass bottle of aspirin in the bag, I stop just two paces in, and the bags slide off of my arms to the ground with a thunk.
The vantage point from the front door gives way to the living room, part of the kitchen, and the back door, including the porch, and now, closed-off patio.
I’ve been gone two hours, and Landry is still out back.
But he’s not alone.
Leaving the bags where they are, I traipse through the house and paste on my happiest smile, and open the screen door to find Jenna Jasper curled up in my editing spot, facing my husband in tiny jean shorts and a crop top, wearing a smile from ear to ear as she playfully swats at his bicep. “Oh stop, you know he couldn’t handle him. He doesn’t have the skill or the time investment into the sport like you do.”
The way she finishes her whole sentence before acknowledging my presence is such a red flag. Landry, taking a minute to slowly shift his body to keep his head and neck straight, smiles at me. “Welcome back, baby. How’d it go out there?”
He doesn’t look guilty. He flat-out told me that he isn’t into Jenna. That one date they had years ago meant nothing. Hell, he could have asked Jenna to marry him, but he didn’t. He asked me. I’m married to Landry Vaughn and yet as Jenna wiggles her feet back into cowboy booties, I can’t stop thinking about Doris and her cheating, winner of a cowboy.
