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Once the cowboy and the dancer realized they loved each other, the cowboy took the dancer on a picnic. They rode out into the middle of nowhere and he confessed his feelings for her.
Ethan’s hands grew clammy, and he tossed the pages aside. It had taken him at least five times longer to read those pages than if he’d gotten help with his reading difficulties. Becca had been right to suggest some courses—or to get help in general.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly, begging his heart to be still. He needed a plan, some way to win her back. First, he’d have to get her to agree to come back or he’d have no other choice but to move closer to her. As much as he wanted to make such an offer, he couldn’t uproot his family again. They were so close to being able to make an offer on a piece of land. This was where he wanted to raise a family.
There was a problem with that way of thinking. Deep down, he knew that if Becca didn’t want to stay, he’d have to figure out another way to make his dream happen. There was probably a place down in Utah where he could do some ranching. It wasn’t like Becca lived in Los Angeles.
His eyes drifted to the manuscript on the front seat. First things first. He needed to show her that he cared for her. She couldn’t make an reasonable decision without that information. Then they could discuss what that might mean for their future.
The cowboy in the story had set up that picnic. That scene had come from Becca’s imagination. It was something she found romantic. If anything, her manuscript was a map to her heart, and all he needed to do now was recreate what she’d put in there as closely as he could. He’d cross his fingers that his interpretation would be close to what she imagined.
Slowly, his heart resumed its normal beating and a smile spread across his face. He could make that happen. Dating came easy to him. Being romantic was his specialty. All he’d need to do was go shopping for supplies. Then he would call her and tell her they needed to meet in person.
His phone buzzed. He’d noticed a missed call from Becca a couple days ago but there was no message or voicemail, and Ethan hadn’t gotten the courage to reach out to her about it yet. When he grabbed his phone, Becca’s name populated the screen. She’d finally messaged him.
Ethan’s heart dove right back into overdrive. She was coming to Rocky Ridge. Not next week or next month—she had gotten a ticket to take the Greyhound and was already on her way. When he re-read the text, he realized she’d mentioned where she was that that meant she was more than halfway here by now.
He wasn’t ready. Heck, he barely had a plan in place. If she was due to arrive tonight, he only had a couple hours to get everything set up the way he needed it to be. And he had to get the ranch supplies he’d driven to Billings to get before he could head back home.
Ethan shouldered his way out of his truck and strode down the busy Billings street. He’d get the ranch stuff first and then make time to pick up a few things for the picnic. He’d have to head right back to Rocky Ridge as soon as possible, though.
He made it only a few yards when his phone buzzed again. This time, Becca’s message made him freeze in the middle of the sidewalk.
Becca:Do you think we can talk?
He reread the first message.All it said was that she was coming for a visit and where she was in the journey to get to Rocky Ridge. There was nothing to make him believe she was coming to see him specifically. That exact same message could have just as easily been sent to Simon or Katrina.
But this one had the weight of a thousand unanswered questions. She wanted to seehim.
Ethan gulped, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He could do this.
He had to.
Ethan:I’ll pick you up at the bus stop.
Ethan tuggedat the tie he wore. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put one of these things on. In his other hand, he held a single rose. At his feet was the only picnic basket he could find. It didn’t feel big enough and it was well used, but at this point, he couldn’t be picky.
His suit was more constrictive than he’d remembered and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get into the saddle. While he waited for the bus to arrive, he thought about all the several places he could take her for a picnic so he wouldn’t have to go on horseback.
Unfortunately, nothing sounded nearly as good.
There weren’t many people hanging around, but that made sense for a Thursday evening. Most people traveled on the weekend.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A little way down from him, a mother and child also waited. The kid was getting especially frustrated. They’d been waiting longer than Ethan had and already he was edgy. Waiting wasn’t all that relaxing.
The only thing keeping him here was knowing that any moment now, Becca would be arriving, and he’d take her out on an official date.
He fiddled with the rose in his hand, recalling how he’d brought something similar when he’d come to pick up Tina. It was almost comedic just how nervous he’d been all those weeks ago, because right about now he wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out from hyperventilating.
Forcing himself to breathe deeper, he closed his eyes and listened to what was going on around him. The child fussed. The announcer on the intercom alerted passengers that a different bus would be departing momentarily. Tires, an engine, and the chuff of something heavy rolling over concrete filled the air.
Ethan’s eyes flew wide as the bus came to a stop mere feet from where he stood. The windows were too dark for him to see anything or anyone. But the lights inside would turn on any moment and he’d be able to see the passengers as they gathered their belongings.
Seconds later, that was exactly what happened.
His focus shifted from one end of the bus to the other. He peered at all the passengers, hoping he could locate the only one hewas most interested in seeing before she got off the bus. All too quickly, the bus grew congested and everyone inside mushed together as they grabbed their bags from overhead.
The first couple of people didn’t have anything with them except a purse or a briefcase.
