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“Good to hear,” he comments. “Sounds like everything is on track as we planned.”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’d say we’ll be on schedule for you to head back home on the sixteenth.”
“The sixteenth?” I question with wide eyes, and when I realize it’s already the tenth, my heart seizes up in discomfort.
“Yep,” he answers. “I’ll send a plane out there for ya, and then you can get back to your actual job here at the Slammers. The team is looking forward to having you back.”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
I mean, that’s so soon.
And it’s like I’ve gotten so used to living out here that I lost sight of my reality—I’m not a permanent fixture on the ranch. I was only hired for eight weeks, and well, that eight weeks is almost up.
I drop my bags beside the truck and just stand there, staring at myself in the reflection of the driver’s side window.
Where did the time go?
“Leah?” Frank’s voice startles me. “You still there?”
“Y-yeah. Yes, I mean. I’m still here. Sorry.” I put a hand to my forehead and shut my eyes. “So, you’re going to send a plane out for me on the sixteenth?”
“Yep,” he responds. “See ya in six days. Can’t wait to have you back.”
A second later, the line clicks off, and I’m left standing in the middle of the parking lot, trying to wrap my head around it all.
In less than a week, I’ll have to leave the ranch.
Leave Joey and Jenny and Tex and all of the staff and ranch hands I’ve come to call friends.
I’ll have to leave Rhett.
This man, in a matter of two months, has flipped my world upside down, and now, I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when it’s time for me to say goodbye.
August 10th, Tuesday
Rhett
“All right, cowboy,” Leah announces as she carries two plates filled with homemade pasta over to the small kitchen table in her cabin. “I hope you brought your appetite because dinner’s ready.”
The table is all set with cutlery and napkins, and she’s even created some ambiance with a flowery tablecloth and candlelight in the center.
“Darlin’, you’ve outdone yourself,” I tell her, and the moment she sets our plates down, I grab her by the waist, spin her around, and pull her into my arms. “Thanks for preparin’ all this.”
“You’re welcome.” She grins up at me. “And I can’t deny I might’ve been extra motivated when you told me you’d be bringing the dessert.”
I reach down and squeeze her ass. “Oh, you have no idea what’s comin’.”
She giggles, and I use that time to steal a sweet kiss. But once temptation prevails and I deepen the kiss, she pushes me away on another giggle and tells me to sit my ass down and eat before the meal she’s cooked gets cold.
The second I’m sitting across from her and my face hovers over my plate, the aromas of cheese and salt and olive oil fill my nostrils. “Damn, this smells good.”
Leah smiles and lifts her glass of water to her lips for a sip.
“How’d your day go, by the way?”
“It went fine.” She shrugs. “Mostly just ran errands in town. And, uh…” She pauses for a few seconds before finishing her thought. “Frank Kaminsky called me this afternoon when I was leaving the grocery store.”
“Yeah?” I take another bite of the fettuccine alfredo Leah made tonight and grin at her from across the table. “Darlin’, this is delicious, by the way.”
“Oh, uh…thanks. Glad you like it.”
The smile that appears on her lips looks off. Forced, even.
“Everything go okay with the call?”
“Well, yeah,” she says but then pauses.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” She shrugs and stares down at her plate, her hand moving her fork through the noodles without any real purpose. “He just wanted to see how you and your dad were doing.”
“Did you tell him that you never want to take care of another Jameson man?”
That spurs a laugh from her throat, but it doesn’t last long. “No, but I did let him know that Tex was doing really well. Which he was relieved to hear. And I let him know you’re well on your way to a full recovery.”
“All thanks to a bossy doctor.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“And…uh…since my eight weeks are just about up, he also mentioned that he’d be sending a plane out here for me on the sixteenth.”
“The sixteenth? That’s…soon,” I say, but it’s more to myself than her.
Frankly, I don’t know what to do or say.
I mean, the fucking sixteenth? In less than a week, she’s just going to pack her shit and go? I know that’s been the plan all along, but lately…I guess I’ve failed to really consider it. I don’t want her to leave.
“Yeah.” Her mouth turns down at the corners. “It is.”
“What are you going to do?”
