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I let out a sigh. “I appreciate you have a job to do, and I’ll take care of this. Meanwhile, I’ve been meaning to ask you how Brittany is getting on with that nice pig of hers.”
Chisolm’s face brightened, and he settled back to tell me about his daughter and the pig she’d raised, who’d been on a winning streak at local livestock shows. Richard brought out coffee and served a cup to the sheriff before taking a seat next to me. I absently dropped my hand on his knee, and he smiled at me before turning his attention to the sheriff and his musings on animal husbandry.
Given the news of the lawsuit, I should have been anxious and itching for Chisolm to leave so I could get to work straightening everything out. Except I wasn’t. I was too busy enjoying the moment: sitting on the porch with Richard as the sheriff waxed on about town gossip and the ranch came awake around us.
I realized in that moment that this was what I wanted: for every morning to be like this. To reach out, knowing that my hand would always find Richard’s and we could enjoy the beauty and bounty of this land together.
Now that I knew what I wanted, maybe I needed to go about finding a way to actually make it happen.
20
RICHARD
Sheriff Chisolm may as well have been speaking Klingon for all I understood what he was talking about—something about a 4-H civic engagement program in town?—but it didn’t matter when Boone’s hand was on my knee, making me feel like I belonged there.
I’d spent over three weeks working my ass off at the Silver Fork and more than half those nights sharing Boone’s bed. In another week, give or take—these days, I refused to look at the calendar too closely—my month as a cowhand would be up. I’d have won my bet with Oscar, and it would be time to figure out what came next.
The trouble was… I didn’t want to.
Sitting at Boone’s side, looking out over the ranch, I felt almost as if I’d landed in some kind of dreamscape—mind you, a dreamscape involving significantly more cow manure than any actual dream I’d ever had—and the strangest part was that no part of me wanted to be anywhere else. No corner of my heart wondered what exciting things were happening on far-flung islands; no part of my brain was itching to figure out my next big, manure-free opportunity in New York.
For the first time ever, I felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be, with the person I liked best.
For the first time, I understood what it meant to be content.
And if keeping this feeling alive meant ignoring the fact that I would be leaving soon, I was going to ignore it like a fucking champion. After all, there’d be plenty of time to worry about it later.
I shifted slightly, pushing myself farther into Boone’s space, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, without even pausing his conversation, he pressed his thigh more firmly against mine and squeezed my knee gently, telling me he approved of this new position. It was all I could do not to kiss him a little desperately right then and there, Sheriff Chisolm be damned.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sheriff standing and stretching. “Well, I guess I’d better get going.” He paused at the top of the steps, taking in his surroundings. “Looks like things are going well for you, Boone.”
Boone nodded. “We’ve had a good season so far.”
Chisolm nodded to the papers Boone still clutched in his hand. “Hopefully, this mess will get straightened out and—” He cut himself off as his eyes fell on the small pasture nearby where Hiram had just turned out a few of the horses. He squinted. “Is that a…” He tilted his head to the side. “Unicorn?”
Boone glanced up, confusion marring his brow. He noticed what had caught Chisolm’s attention. Duck was wearing the new fly mask I’d designed for her.
One night, maybe a week ago, Boone had been working late in the calving barn. While I’d waited up for him, I’d spent several hours embellishing the masks I’d bought at the store with embroidery, and since then, I’d worked on the project a bit each evening. Two nights ago, after a particularly brilliant idea, I’d used the fabric and stuffing from an old pillow to create a horn that I’d then sewn onto the mask so it would sit over Duck’s forehead. Yesterday, after I’d presented all of the horses with their new headwear, I’d braided ribbons into Duck’s forelock for an extra touch.
I thought she looked rather beautiful, and clearly, she was feeling it too. She’d had a new pep to her step the rest of the day.
Chisolm let out a deep belly laugh. “Well, I’ll be. Ain’t that clever.” He started down the steps and ambled to the pasture. “Brittany and her friends sure would get a kick out of that. And look there.”
