AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dallas folk live for lazy evenings like these framed in yellow leaves, whispering breezes, and golden sun that makes the autumn trees glitter.
The stores, the people, even the streets feel right.
For all its pomp, its manicured lawns, and the elegant bone-white grandeur of the nation’s capital, D.C. always seems dark and formal. It moves faster than you can blink.
Here, you get to breathe. You see more than black-and-white suits and top-notch blouses mingled with touristy splats of color passing by.
Cowboy boots and flannel are as commonplace as denim everything.
Instead of hushed whispers and careful jargon and overprepared speeches, you have soft laughter and bawdy jokes.
You have gossipy secrets broken up by barking dogs, shrieking roosters in the distance, and even the occasional clip-clop of horse hooves slapping the streets.
The educated, career-girl side of me hates to admit the truth...but how could I ever deny it?
Dallas, North Dakota, has so much heart it makes Washington D.C. feel like a mausoleum.
Even the oddballs and potential creeps like Carson Hudson and Mr. Muddy Boots seem like the kind of problems you can handle.
They’re nothing like the professional crooks in lobbyist groups who can warp millions of lives at the flick of a switch, or the hardened street gangs that give the city its merciless underbelly and sharp teeth.
Don’t even get me started on the men.
As I head into the store, I notice just how common it is to see earthy, broad-shouldered guys muscling their way down the aisles with carts piled high with meats and beer boxes. Even the older gents have a certain rugged charm with their scrappy white beards and amiable smiles.
No, they can’t hold a candle to West.
I’m not sure any other man alive can.
But there’s a reason why my sporadic dates with the sophisticated, clean-shaven city boys never felt right...and why one particular country boy makes my pulse strum louder than those grinding engines he loves.
And compared to the city workweek rush, shopping is actually relaxing. Nearly every person I encounter asks how Gram is holding up after her surgery.
By the time I’m done, I’m thinking about just how big this fall show will be, bringing everything I love together.
I overheard several people talking about it in the store, and there are flyers posted about it all over town that mention all proceeds going to a state veterans’ rehab program.
Hmm. That’s a solid cause.
Why wouldn’t Weston just tell me?
He should be proud, not hiding his efforts like some guilty secret.
Loaded up with everything on Gram’s list—including so many cookie ingredients it’d make the gingerbread man himself blush—I head back and ferry it all inside across several trips that leave me huffing and puffing.
It’s been a busy evening. A young couple checked into the B&B while I was gone.
They mentioned seeing the car show billboard thirty miles up the highway. They’re also a polite excuse for Faye to extend her stay, claiming that even though her house will have the security system ready, she wants to help out with the guests and the cookie baking marathon.
I agree she’s more than welcome.
Having her here is awesome for Gram, and I think it’s good for Faye, too.
She’s been lonely in her big house ever since her husband passed away, even if Grady McKnight and his family kept her busy pretty often. The break-in also left her shaken up.
West comes by later to update her on the shiny new security system. Gram talks him into staying for supper, and we all dig into a small feast of whipped garlic potatoes, pot roast, and fresh-baked bread so good it might be a felony.
Despite the longing looks and friendly chatter we share across the table, my toes curl in my shoes.
