sit.
He waited until she got herself settled on the ground before he sat down himself. She handed him a cup and he poured them both some lemonade. Then she held out the bag and he took a cookie from it. He took a long drink and then released a contented sigh. “That’s amazing. Thanks so much,” he said as he started munching on the cookie.
“You’re welcome. I used to do this for my father.”
“Ah. Country girl at heart.”
“A bit.”
“Did you ever ride when you were out here?”
“A bit.”
He laughed at that. “If you ever feel the desire to go riding, the horses that Jodie has here are safe to ride. Finn has been working with them.”
“So I heard. Jodie assured me I could take them out anytime I wanted.”
“Have you?”
“I went out on my own on Saturday night,” she returned, lifting her chin in a small gesture of defiance. “It was fun.”
“I’d like to have seen that,” he said. “Where did you go?”
“Just down the road to a trail leading to the river. Nothing dramatic.”
“Those are usually the best rides,” he said. He flashed her another grin and she returned it with one of her own, enjoying the easy give-and-take with this man. He was comfortable to be around.
She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she took in the silence surrounding them. Far off she heard the lowing of the cows from the pasture across the road. The sound was an idyllic counterpoint to the chirping of sparrows and the croak of frogs from a creek splashing through the cottonwoods.
A few lazy flies buzzed around and Lauren released a long, slow sigh.
“You sound like you’re decompressing,” Vic said, pushing his cowboy hat farther back on his head.
“I feel like I am.” She spoke softly as if afraid to disturb the moment. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is out here. How isolated.”
“It’s not that isolated. My ranch is down the road in one direction, the Bannister ranch in the other.”
“I know, but in Chicago and New York we live stacked on top of each other, side by side. It’s never quiet. Never.”
She stopped, listening again, a smile lingering on her lips. A gentle calm and a desire to stay right where she was suffused her.
“I don’t think I could handle that,” Vic said, pouring some more lemonade for himself. He held the jug out to Lauren, but she declined a refill.
“I don’t think you could, either,” Lauren said, glancing over at Vic. She tried to picture him strolling down a city sidewalk, past office towers, in that rolling gait of his. The walk of a cowboy. It didn’t jell.
“But you’re used to it?”
“Got used to it,” she admitted. “Don’t forget, I’ve been living in large towns and cities ever since we left here.”
A breeze started up just as she reached for the lemonade container to screw the lid down. Her hair was blown in her face, sticking to her lipstick, and she tried to shake it away but it wouldn’t move.
She felt rough fingers on her face, tucking the strands of hair behind her ear.
It was a light touch. An innocent gesture that probably meant nothing to Vic, but it sent a thrill of awareness sparking down her neck.
She couldn’t help how her head turned toward him as he lowered his hand. She felt a sense of waiting. Expectation.
Then his phone beeped an incoming text and Lauren pulled herself back to reality. Vic glanced at his phone but chose to ignore it. He set it down on the ground between them.
“Don’t forget to pick that up again,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
“I won’t. I don’t go anywhere without my phone. My mom says it’s unhealthy.”
“It’s unhealthy for me if I forget it.”
“Why?”
“I get all jittery thinking I might miss some important call. Back in the city we call it FOMO—fear of missing out.”
He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have your phone with you now?”
“Back pocket.”
He smiled as he took another
He waited until she got herself settled on the ground before he sat down himself. She handed him a cup and he poured them both some lemonade. Then she held out the bag and he took a cookie from it. He took a long drink and then released a contented sigh. “That’s amazing. Thanks so much,” he said as he started munching on the cookie.
“You’re welcome. I used to do this for my father.”
“Ah. Country girl at heart.”
“A bit.”
“Did you ever ride when you were out here?”
“A bit.”
He laughed at that. “If you ever feel the desire to go riding, the horses that Jodie has here are safe to ride. Finn has been working with them.”
“So I heard. Jodie assured me I could take them out anytime I wanted.”
“Have you?”
“I went out on my own on Saturday night,” she returned, lifting her chin in a small gesture of defiance. “It was fun.”
“I’d like to have seen that,” he said. “Where did you go?”
“Just down the road to a trail leading to the river. Nothing dramatic.”
“Those are usually the best rides,” he said. He flashed her another grin and she returned it with one of her own, enjoying the easy give-and-take with this man. He was comfortable to be around.
She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she took in the silence surrounding them. Far off she heard the lowing of the cows from the pasture across the road. The sound was an idyllic counterpoint to the chirping of sparrows and the croak of frogs from a creek splashing through the cottonwoods.
A few lazy flies buzzed around and Lauren released a long, slow sigh.
“You sound like you’re decompressing,” Vic said, pushing his cowboy hat farther back on his head.
“I feel like I am.” She spoke softly as if afraid to disturb the moment. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is out here. How isolated.”
“It’s not that isolated. My ranch is down the road in one direction, the Bannister ranch in the other.”
“I know, but in Chicago and New York we live stacked on top of each other, side by side. It’s never quiet. Never.”
She stopped, listening again, a smile lingering on her lips. A gentle calm and a desire to stay right where she was suffused her.
“I don’t think I could handle that,” Vic said, pouring some more lemonade for himself. He held the jug out to Lauren, but she declined a refill.
“I don’t think you could, either,” Lauren said, glancing over at Vic. She tried to picture him strolling down a city sidewalk, past office towers, in that rolling gait of his. The walk of a cowboy. It didn’t jell.
“But you’re used to it?”
“Got used to it,” she admitted. “Don’t forget, I’ve been living in large towns and cities ever since we left here.”
A breeze started up just as she reached for the lemonade container to screw the lid down. Her hair was blown in her face, sticking to her lipstick, and she tried to shake it away but it wouldn’t move.
She felt rough fingers on her face, tucking the strands of hair behind her ear.
It was a light touch. An innocent gesture that probably meant nothing to Vic, but it sent a thrill of awareness sparking down her neck.
She couldn’t help how her head turned toward him as he lowered his hand. She felt a sense of waiting. Expectation.
Then his phone beeped an incoming text and Lauren pulled herself back to reality. Vic glanced at his phone but chose to ignore it. He set it down on the ground between them.
“Don’t forget to pick that up again,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
“I won’t. I don’t go anywhere without my phone. My mom says it’s unhealthy.”
“It’s unhealthy for me if I forget it.”
“Why?”
“I get all jittery thinking I might miss some important call. Back in the city we call it FOMO—fear of missing out.”
He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have your phone with you now?”
“Back pocket.”
He smiled as he took another
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