Minutes later, the wreath hangs at the center of the door. “Perfect,” I mumble. “Make sure to lock the door behind me.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Townsend,” Meghan gushes before I pull the door closed.
I take a step back and examine the door. It definitely looks better with the wreath on it.
As I step down the three wooden porch stairs, I try to force myself to stop from wondering more about the woman inside of the house.
But why would a woman who obviously enjoys fashion and decor, and who used to go above and beyond for the holidays, suddenly not want to do it in her new home?
I shake my head as I go back to my own house.
CHAPTER 7
Joel
“What do you think of Ol’ Girl?” Jack, one of my ranch hands, asks me as I switch my granddaughter, Amelia, from my right arm to my left.
He eyes the mare, eyeing her swollen belly.
We’re inside of the stable where I keep the five of my horses. Today’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and I usually have eighteen-month-old Amelia on Tuesdays since her mom, Savannah, Ace’s wife and Aiden’s mother, works her longest shift on Tuesdays.
“It’ll be soon,” I say. “That foal is coming before Christmas.”
“Ba-bye!” Amelia holds up her little hand to wave at one of the other black quarter horses that just neighed.
I turn her to face closer to the horse so she can wave and watch it but just out of reach.
She giggles when it neighs again.
“Well, I’ll keep a good eye on her in case you’re not around when she starts to go into labor. You think it’ll be a smooth birth?” Jack asks.
“Should be.” I nod. “Although, it’s her first so she’ll probably be frightened.”
He nods. “We’ll take care of her, right, Ol’ Girl?” he asks the horse who bobs her head and continues eating. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Good seeing you, Amelia.”
The sound of her name catches my grandbaby’s attention.
“Bye!” She waves as Jack saunters off in the opposite direction.
“What should we do while we wait for your mama?” I ask Amelia as I head to my main office, about a quarter mile from the main horse stable.
She looks up at me with wide, golden eyes.
“Nothing, huh?”
Amelia giggles when I start to tickle her belly.
“Are you hungry?” I ask as we enter my office, which is only a little bigger than a trailer.
I slap my cowboy hat against my thigh a couple of times to clear the dust off before hanging it on the wooden hat post by the door.
“Let me see what Grandpa’s got in this here fridge for you,” I grumble.
“Eat,” Amelia says when I open the fridge.
“Now you want to rush me, huh? I was the one to remind you it’s time to eat.”
“Eat!” she demands, her little voice growing stronger.
