Willow in Bloom by Victoria Pade Page B

“It’s so nice out, why don’t we have it sitting on the steps?”
    â€œOkay,” Willow agreed, liking that idea.
    She had to make a pit stop in the bathroom again—one of many she’d made throughout the evening. She hoped he didn’t know enough about pregnancy to guess that that was what was causing it. But whether he did or not, she wanted to be able to slip away without him knowing that’s where she was headed, so she said, “Why don’t you stay out here and enjoy the stars, and I’ll pour the lemonade?”
    â€œOkay,” he echoed, and when they made it to the top of the stairs he sat down with his back resting against the railing.
    â€œI’ll just be a minute,” Willow said as she let herself into the apartment.
    Once there, she deposited the stuffed animals and the bud vase on the kitchen table, then she speeded through her bathroom visit and pouring the lemonade.
    She managed to be back with Tyler within minutes, but even so the sight of him struck her anew, as if it had been months. His handsome features were bathed in milky moonlight, and she couldn’t believe how terrific looking he was. Or that a man like him had been attracted to her once upon a time.
    â€œCheers,” she said, after she’d handed him his lemonade and joined him on the top step.
    â€œCheers,” he repeated, touching his glass to hers.
    For once she was glad the landing was so narrow, because it allowed them to be separated by mere inches. And if he wasn’t going to touch her—which she knew was for the best, but regretted just the same—at least she could be close enough to feel the power and presence that emanated from him.
    â€œTell me how you got to own the Feed and Grain,” he said after he’d tasted his lemonade and judged it good.
    â€œIt’s been in the family a long time. My great-grandfather started it and passed it down to my grandmother when he retired. I worked here as a teenager, then left for college in Tulsa, and when I came back, Gloria, my grandmother, passed the day-to-day operations over to me.” After a sip of her own lemonade, Willow said, “What about you? How did you choose rodeo as a career?”
    â€œPretty much the way you ended up in the feed and grain business. My dad competed some and got my brother and me doing it early on. Not the bronc riding. He started us out with roping competitions mostly, calf roping as a team. Just being around the circuit put us on the sidelines watching the other events, and the older we got, the more we wanted to try our luck at it.”
    â€œAnd were you lucky at it? I mean, before the accident that ended things for you?”
    â€œI’d say I was. It takes skill to compete, but it takes a lot of luck, too. It’d be hard to consider myself unlucky to have won three World Champion buckles in my career.”
    â€œThree?” she parroted, impressed.
    â€œI was going for four when I got thrown.”
    â€œIt seems like a punishing way to make a living.” Willow had been amazed by what a brutal beating most of the riders had taken at the rodeo she’d seen that day before she’d met him.
    â€œIt’s a tough sport,” Tyler conceded.
    â€œHad you been hurt before that last fall that gave you amnesia?”
    Tyler laughed. “Once or twice.”
    â€œMeaning a lot.”
    â€œI’ve had some broken bones. Some sprains. Some dislocated knees and shoulders and elbows. Goes with the territory.”
    â€œDo you miss it?”
    He laughed again, this time wryly. “So damn much I could spit. But I’ll get over it. There’re gettin’ to be more and more redeeming qualities to being here, now.”
    He said that pointedly, his eyes on her and a small smile on his face that sent a rain of something sparkly throughout her being.
    Then he added, “For instance, I have a couple of apple trees right out my back door