Page 7 of Sweet Devotion

So she knew. “I should probably introduce myself properly. Aiden Boglioli, Kade’s friend and, for the foreseeable future, ranch guest.”

“Nice to meet you. Colleen Gleeson. As I mentioned before, I’ll be your physical therapist. Though you’ve already had plenty of that at the army hospital, for the foreseeable future, we’ll be using equine therapy with you.”

What a way to make a first impression on the person who could make or break his future. If he wouldn’t look absolutely ridiculous, he’d smack his aching head with the heel of his hand. “You do equine therapy?”

“That’s the plan—with some help from Miss Alice and Boots.”

“Boots?”

“Sweetest horse on the ranch, and, I suspect, therapy material.”

“Suspect?”

“I’ve never worked with her before for therapy, but riding out here as teens, I still remember what a sweet horse she is.”

Part of him wanted to insist he’d be fine with a little more rest, another part of him might actually be looking forward to having one on one time with this pretty—no—beautiful woman who could help people heal or fix their sink. Not that she’d fixed the sink, but somehow, he had a feeling she could if she wanted to.

The drive into Honeysuckle seemed to take forever. At one point Colleen mentioned under an hour, but something about the straight and flat road seemed to drag on. Staring at Colleen while taking inventory of her thick long hair with just enough curl on the ends to make a man want to run his fingers through it, eyes the color of the Texas sky, and long slim fingers that made him wonder what else could those pretty hands do, might get him into trouble sooner than later. Instead he turned to stare at the horizon, an expanse of sky that had nothing interrupting it from one edge to the other, and the occasional cow dotting the landscape. Watching it through the passenger window, he couldn’t decide how he felt about that much open space.

“You get used to it.” Colleen kept her gaze on the road.

“Used to what?”

“I suppose, Texas. West Texas. A lot of dirt, and a lot of sky, and a lot of cattle.”

If he thought things were rather barren by the base, it didn’t hold a candle to West Texas ranch country. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“You have that look. I see it in city folks all the time. Like they can’t decide if all this land is beautiful or terrifying.”

Not much later, Honeysuckle came into view. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that bump on the head had transported him to an episode of the old Andy Griffith show and Mayberry, North Carolina.

Unexpectedly, Colleen giggled. “Like I said, you’ll get used to it. Then, you’ll either love it or hate it.”

“And you? Is it love or hate?”

Her head turned a moment to face him, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m here. What do you think that means?”

That he was an idiot for asking.

Even though she’d already been home for a few days, driving down Main Street felt familiar yet new. Corn Hole Heaven hadn’t changed. Of course, it had been the same for years. Heaven Scent, the shop owned by Jillian Sweet, always had such fun things in the window. She’d have to make time to visit. Maybe pick up a nice gift for her mother’s upcoming birthday.

“You’re smiling.” Aiden tipped his head watching her.

“It’s good to be home.”

“You’ve been away?”

She nodded. “Every small town kid wants to move to the city. I went to Texas A&M for college and then followed through with my career path, but now, it was time to come home. So,” she shrugged, “here I am.”

They’d barely pulled into a parking spot in front of the hardware store when Mildred McEntire came hurrying up to her, kitten heeled mules clacking against the sidewalk like a metronome. “Colleen! I heard you were back.” The woman pulled her into a hug so tight she realigned Colleen’s spine.

“Hello, Mildred.” Still smiling, Colleen turned to gesture toward Aiden. “Have you met the Sweet’s new guest?”

Walking more slowly than he should have, Aiden circled the hood to where the two women stood. “Aiden Boglioli.”

A deep frown settled between Mildred’s brow. “Boglioli? You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No ma’am. I’m from New York. The Bronx.”