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“Oh, there’s a doctor, a dentist, and some other medical do-dads, I think,” she says. “Plus a lawyer. Sawyer Saul or Saul Sawyer. Something like that. Not sure what his specialty is.”
“He does a bit of everything,” Connor explains, jumping out of the driver’s seat. He pauses to wink at me suggestively. “A man of many, many talents.”
Is he talking about the lawyer or himself?I wonder, my face growing hot. I force myself to scramble out of the truck before I can lose myself in any further thoughts about Connor’s muscles rippling under the open flannel and t-shirt, his bronze skin glowing in the Montana sunshine.
“It’s pretty self-sufficient here,” I add. “You don’t really need to leave for much.”
Katherine snickers, joining us at the curb. “Well, it depends on what’s needed. If one of our cowboys breaks his neck herding cattle or in a rodeo, we’ll need more than Dr. Feelgood to stitch him back together, you know.”
She eyes Connor, who snorts. I can’t help but laugh at my grandmother’s morbid humor.
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Broken necks? Nah. Broken bones? Yes. It’s the nature of the business, unfortunately, but it’s the way these boys make their living. Isn’t that right, Connor?”
Did my grandmother say something about a rodeo? I eye the cowboy with renewed interest, but he suddenly appears uncomfortable.
“I have some things to take care of. I’ll meet you ladies back here in a bit, all right?”
I notice how his gaze lingers on me again, like he’s undressing me with his eyes, and I bite on my lower lip, turning away. Even as I try to convince myself I’m not interested, the fluttering sensation between my legs betrays my enjoyment of the attention.
“We won’t be long, darling,” my grandmother tells him. She and I turn for the store as Connor heads across the street.
“There are rodeos here, huh?” I muse, more to myself as I again glance at Connor’s ass disappearing into the post office.
“Oh, yes, of course. Your grandfather loved performing in the rodeos. He was quite the cowboy.”
I catch the wistfulness in her tone and look at her thoughtfully.
“God rest his soul,” she murmurs. “Poor Jake worked himself ragged on that ranch. Hoped Cory would make something of it himself. Your grandfather must be spinning in his grave knowing how we failed him.”
I stop walking and shake my head vehemently. “You haven’t failed him,” I tell her earnestly. “You’ve done exactly the opposite. So many women in your position would have given up, sold the land, and moved to Florida or something, but you stayed. You kept your place. Cory ran away, but you stayed and tried to keep it going.”
My grandmother peers up at me, her weathered face fraught with affection. “You’re a good girl, Rose. I wish I’d watched you grow up.”
I return her smile. “Well, if it’s any consolation, my mom always said that I was a stubborn kid, so maybe you dodged a bullet there.”
“I’m sure you were a lovely child.” We continue toward the store, and two men exit as we enter, both stepping back to hold the door wide and allow us through, their hands reaching to touch the brim of their hats in unison.
“Ladies,” they chorus.
Like a silly schoolgirl, I giggle, disbelievingly, and another laugh follows my original at the first. I feel like I’m on a television show. It’s all surreal.
“Thank you, Dale,” Katherine tells the one holding the door. “This is my granddaughter, Rose. She’ll be staying with me now.”
Dale beams. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Rose.”
Holy balls. What did I walk into? This is crazy.
But it’s real, and I’m here, bizarre as it is. And the town is growing on me like warm, fuzzy moss. Everything about it is the opposite of the city. The people are charming and warm, helpful and familiar. There are no horns honking during rush hour or smog covering the concrete jungle. Why do I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it will be gone in a puff of smoke?
“This way, Rose,” Katherine calls, and I see that she’s halfway through the small but fully packed store. “I just want to pick up a few things for supper. I’m going to make pork chop sandwiches, I think.”
“That sounds… great,” I volunteer with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
The meal sounds unappetizing, but she hasn’t disappointed me yet with her cooking. I’m not used to the ways of Montana, but I’m a quick study.
My eyes trail toward the hardware section of the shop, and I wander toward the tools, my eyes widening. “Holy shit!” I curse.
