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It feels like an hour passes waiting for a reply. Really, it takes no longer than a quick walk to the porch, where I open the screen door and check to make sure the front door is locked. Can’t be too careful with these break-ins way too close for comfort.
Yep. Got a lot to do before I meet Faulk at Aunt Faye’s with the new security stuff. How’s our boy doing? He looked better late last night when I got home.
My disappointment hitches up, even as I tell myself there’s no good reason it should while I’m texting him back.
Hercules looks better today. More like his old self and his old appetite. He’s gobbling up last night’s scraps right now. I add a pig face emoji.
His reply is almost instant.
I figured he’d dive right in as soon as he could eat again. Crazy-ass drama hog. Thanks for feeding him.
A gif of a pig almost as big as Herc suckling at a baby bottle follows.
I snicker. He’s very good at making it hard to stay mad at him.
I also understand he runs his own business and he’s a busy guy, so I send a final text, promising to cut it off there.
Let me know if you need any help at Faye’s house later, I text, tacking a smiley face emoji onto the end.
Will do, baby.
One silly little word and my heart somersaults.
That baby makes me feel infinitely better.
I walk back to the B&B and mix up a batch of blueberry muffins so they can bake while I work on everything else Gram’s breakfast menu needs for today.
Carson actually joins us for breakfast this morning.
From the kitchen, I overhear him chatting up a storm with Faye about the “quaint old farms” in the area hiding hundred-year-old hidden gems. His voice sounds more animated than anything I’ve ever heard as he brags about his finds and hopes to “strike it big” before the car show.
Gram joins in, offering suggestions for folks who might have vintage goods lying around that they’d want to part with for quick cash.
By the time I’m at the table with them and dishing out breakfast, I’m listening, but not that engaged. I’m trying way too hard to come up with an excuse to drive over to Faye’s house this afternoon.
If I do, I’ll have to borrow Gram’s car.
She keeps it tucked away in the garage on the side of the house. Or I could borrow one of Grandpa’s less-valuable rides if she’d let me, I guess. Maybe it would pique West’s interest more than whatever I’ve got in my suitcase that qualifies as sexy.
I didn’t exactly plan on coming to Dallas to impress men, so I packed light. Frilly lingerie was the last thing on my mind. The few pieces I own are still buried in my apartment half a country away.
My eyes drift to Gram as she laughs at some old story about saddles Carson feigns interest in.
I bet she’d even let me borrow the old motorcycle if I asked.
Imagining the look on Weston’s face if I show up on the same bike I crashed and he fixed ages ago makes me grin.
Of course, I know Faulk will be there, so a repeat of yesterday can’t happen even if I want another roll in the back of his truck—and God do I ever.
But just being there and enjoying West’s company would be wonderful enough.
“What’s got you smiling like that, Rachel? Or should I say who?”
I look up to see Carson staring right through me.
My shoulders tense as I rake my eyes over him. No, he doesn’t sound hostile or jealous, but there’s something in his voice that just seems nosy.
Like he’s trying way too hard to sound numb, friendly, but disarming as he snoops at my life.
