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“It was too big,” Connor said.
Ginger flipped over the envelope and slid her finger under the sealed flap. “It’s just perfect.” She grinned at him again and took out the card. Clearly, Connor had done this, and she couldn’t quite tell what the brown and black lines were meant to be. “Show me,” she said.
“That’s Ursula,” he said. “See her purple collar?” He pointed to it, and pure happiness flowed through Ginger.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” she said. The dog came over and licked Ginger’s arm, and she showed her the card. “Look, Ursula. It’s you.”
The dog didn’t much care about the card, but she did take a step toward Connor. He threw both arms around the dog’s head and hugged her.
“Not too tight, bud,” Nate said, but Ursula didn’t seem to care. Ginger straightened, because her knees couldn’t take the crouching for much longer, and opened the card. She could make out a couple of the letters—a T, an A or two, and some O’s. A lot of O’s.
“What does this say?” she whispered to Nate, tilting the card toward him.
“He wanted to tell you thank you for letting us come live with Ursula.” He smiled, and Ginger’s heart grew and grew and grew. Emotion gathered in her throat, and she couldn’t believe it, but tears burned behind her eyes.
She’d had no idea that having Nate and Connor at the ranch would affect her so much. She felt like someone had tied her to the end of a yo-yo, and she was being thrown down and then lifted back up, over and over again.
Reaching down, she lifted Connor into her arms and said, “Thank you for coming to the ranch so Ursula would have a new friend.” He hugged her back, and Ginger had never known pure love as strongly as she did in that moment.
“All right,” Emma said. “We’re ready to eat. Everyone gather over here.”
Ginger took Connor with her, moving the child to her hip, and joined the others gathered around the kitchen island. Nate followed her, easing into the perfect place just behind and to the side of her. His hand slid along her back, and her blood popped as if someone had poured fizzing candy into her veins.
She wanted this to be her reality every day. She wanted him solidly in her life, and while she still couldn’t quite believe that she did, she also couldn’t keep denying it.
* * *
The days and weeks passed.May blurred into June, and Ginger had started meeting with Nate on a weekly basis instead of a daily one. They’d gone to town several times for groceries and errands, and Nate was always proper and polite.
He’d eaten dinner at the West Wing a few times now, but they had not gone anywhere alone. With so many people at Hope Eternal, catching a moment alone wasn’t that easy. They’d gone to lunch when they came to town, and Ginger didn’t mind the slow pace of the relationship.
If anything, it actually helped her undo another sticky point with each day that passed. Nate never got angry. He never lashed out. He barely spoke in a voice louder than normal. He worked amazingly well with children, and he seemed to have a great rapport with Connor.
He was almost a littletooperfect, if Ginger were being honest.
His one real flaw was how little he spoke. She didn’t get a whole lot of time to ask him about his personal life, and the once or twice she had, his answers had been short and clipped. She liked him. She liked his work ethic. But she felt like she didn’tknowhim.
The second Monday of June found her waiting in the house for his parole officer to show up. Martin Landy had called last week, and Ginger had been on the phone with him for an hour. They’d arranged this visit, of course, but Nate didn’t know it was happening. He’d never been hard to find on the ranch, as he seemed to stay fairly close to the epicenter.
The appointed time for Martin to arrive came and went, and frustration built in Ginger’s chest. She had work to do, and she hated it when people showed up late. Of course, everyone ran late sometimes, but Martin had her phone number. He could’ve called her.
Finally, almost thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Ginger looked up from her phone, where she’d been playing a card game, as Ursula filled the house with a few barks.
“Hush,” Ginger said. She answered the door to find a tall, silver-haired man standing on the stoop.
“Ginger Talbot?” he asked, already smiling.
“That’s me.” She extended her hand for him to shake, which he did. “You must be Martin.”
“That I am.”
“Come in.” She stepped back, keeping one leg in front of Ursula. “Are you dog-adverse?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, stepping inside. “I have four dogs.”
“Oh, wow,” Ginger said. “Ursula will love you.” The dog moved around her to make her initial sniff of Martin. He smiled and patted her, and they took their business into the kitchen.
“How’s he doing?”
