to?”
“You tell me.”
“It was the dress, you see.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“When they sold the farm they had so much stuff to clear out, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, I would,” he answered, thinking of the ranch, and how there were still boxes of his and Rose’s and Jess’s and Jodie’s things stored in the attic and various sheds.
“Mum asked me what I wanted done with my flower-girl dress, and I told her to store it with my other stuff that they were keeping for me, and I was feeling pretty sore about the farm being sold, so I was snippy with her, probably, and I’m trying to think back on how she was, and I think I might have missed something.”
“What sort of something?”
“Something in her tone. That maybe she was afraid I wouldn’t want to keep the dress, and then she was pleased when I said I did. Even though I was snippy. But I’m not sure.”
“So you’re going to call and ask?”
“No, I’m just going to call and chat, and try to be… less sore and less snippy, and see if it helps.”
“After you call, are you coming back to my trailer?”
“If you want me.”
“Oh, I want you. Want me to leave? Warm up the bed while you make the call? Want some privacy?”
“No, stay,” she said. So he stayed, arms still cradling her while she touched the screen on her phone and listened, her muscles tense against him. It rang out, unanswered. She looked at him. “Not home.”
“Cell phone?”
“They’re hopeless with them. Dad only turns his on when he wants to make a call, never thinks about someone trying to call him. Mum still hasn’t learned to text. The screen on hers is so small she can barely see it.”
“I’m hearing excuses,” he said.
“Whose excuses?”
“Yours.”
“Mum’s and Dad’s, I sometimes think.”
“You think too much,” he said. “Call the other numbers.”
She made a face at him and went back to her phone twice more, getting the same result each time. “Told you.”
“Leave a message.”
“Then they’ll call back.”
“That’s not good?”
“Maybe I take after Dad. I like to be in control of the timing.”
“Thought you might tell me you’d rather be in bed with me than out here in the cold, waiting for them to call.”
She looked at him. “That, too.”
Yes!
So they dropped the idea of her trying to connect with her family tonight, and he thought she was more relieved about this than she should have been.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hot damn, Tegan was going to win.
Jamie looked at the scores flashing out on the electronic board. Only two girls left to ride and so far no one had beaten her time. It was a little slower than yesterday, at 16.04, but Lisa Mackie had knocked down a barrel, adding a five second penalty, which blew her chances out of the water.
Meanwhile, Jamie had wrenched his arm in the steer wrestling and failed to make a score, which would probably push him out of the running for All Around Cowboy, because Dawson O’Dell was killing the competition in his events today, after his disappointment in saddle bronc yesterday, and was the popular favorite to win.
Jamie didn’t care about his own poor performance nearly as much as he normally would, because it was such a buzz to be cheering for someone else - for the woman he’d had in his bed all night, to be exact about it, and that was a big part of the thrill.
She’s mine, he wanted to say. See that pretty hair? See that cute butt? See the way she’s glued in the saddle, what a pro she is? Mine!
For now, anyhow.
For another week or two, if they both wanted.
Because she was going home, half way around the world, putting a legal, official, unarguable end-date to what they’d started. How did he feel about that?
“Jamie,” said a male voice a few yards away in the crush of spectators.
It was Dad, with Mom holding tight onto his arm and looking a little overwhelmed and bewildered and not quite coping, as she always did in
“You tell me.”
“It was the dress, you see.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“When they sold the farm they had so much stuff to clear out, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, I would,” he answered, thinking of the ranch, and how there were still boxes of his and Rose’s and Jess’s and Jodie’s things stored in the attic and various sheds.
“Mum asked me what I wanted done with my flower-girl dress, and I told her to store it with my other stuff that they were keeping for me, and I was feeling pretty sore about the farm being sold, so I was snippy with her, probably, and I’m trying to think back on how she was, and I think I might have missed something.”
“What sort of something?”
“Something in her tone. That maybe she was afraid I wouldn’t want to keep the dress, and then she was pleased when I said I did. Even though I was snippy. But I’m not sure.”
“So you’re going to call and ask?”
“No, I’m just going to call and chat, and try to be… less sore and less snippy, and see if it helps.”
“After you call, are you coming back to my trailer?”
“If you want me.”
“Oh, I want you. Want me to leave? Warm up the bed while you make the call? Want some privacy?”
“No, stay,” she said. So he stayed, arms still cradling her while she touched the screen on her phone and listened, her muscles tense against him. It rang out, unanswered. She looked at him. “Not home.”
“Cell phone?”
“They’re hopeless with them. Dad only turns his on when he wants to make a call, never thinks about someone trying to call him. Mum still hasn’t learned to text. The screen on hers is so small she can barely see it.”
“I’m hearing excuses,” he said.
“Whose excuses?”
“Yours.”
“Mum’s and Dad’s, I sometimes think.”
“You think too much,” he said. “Call the other numbers.”
She made a face at him and went back to her phone twice more, getting the same result each time. “Told you.”
“Leave a message.”
“Then they’ll call back.”
“That’s not good?”
“Maybe I take after Dad. I like to be in control of the timing.”
“Thought you might tell me you’d rather be in bed with me than out here in the cold, waiting for them to call.”
She looked at him. “That, too.”
Yes!
So they dropped the idea of her trying to connect with her family tonight, and he thought she was more relieved about this than she should have been.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hot damn, Tegan was going to win.
Jamie looked at the scores flashing out on the electronic board. Only two girls left to ride and so far no one had beaten her time. It was a little slower than yesterday, at 16.04, but Lisa Mackie had knocked down a barrel, adding a five second penalty, which blew her chances out of the water.
Meanwhile, Jamie had wrenched his arm in the steer wrestling and failed to make a score, which would probably push him out of the running for All Around Cowboy, because Dawson O’Dell was killing the competition in his events today, after his disappointment in saddle bronc yesterday, and was the popular favorite to win.
Jamie didn’t care about his own poor performance nearly as much as he normally would, because it was such a buzz to be cheering for someone else - for the woman he’d had in his bed all night, to be exact about it, and that was a big part of the thrill.
She’s mine, he wanted to say. See that pretty hair? See that cute butt? See the way she’s glued in the saddle, what a pro she is? Mine!
For now, anyhow.
For another week or two, if they both wanted.
Because she was going home, half way around the world, putting a legal, official, unarguable end-date to what they’d started. How did he feel about that?
“Jamie,” said a male voice a few yards away in the crush of spectators.
It was Dad, with Mom holding tight onto his arm and looking a little overwhelmed and bewildered and not quite coping, as she always did in
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