“It’s one of the borders,” Wade explained. After tying the reins to a nearby fence post, he pulled out a paper sack from his saddle bag, along with a couple bottles of water. “Let’s eat.”
“It can’t possibly be—” But another check of her phone revealed more time had flown by than she realized. It was already eleven. Had she traveled the ranch in a trance, noticing all its beauty but none of the distance?
Wade dropped onto a large fallen tree trunk and set their lunch beside him. A squirrel poked his head around the base of a tree in interest before skittering up it.Were those hearts drawn on the bag?“Come, sit down or I’ll eat yours, too.”
“You wouldn’t—”
Mischief twinkled in his eyes, more evident when he removed his hat and the shadows no longer dimmed them from sight. The memory of him handing her the half-eaten s’more last night resurfaced. Trish’s heart did an awkward pitter-patter.
She’d barely found a comfortable spot on the log when her phone dinged. “Guess I have two bars out here.” It was likely Mindy demanding details about the cowboy in her picture. She meant to set it off to the side and worry about it later.
But the name on the screen nearly made her choke on her sip of water.
Henry: I think this tantrum has gone on long enough. We should talk. Dinner tomorrow?
Her heart pounded at erratic intervals. It’d taken more than two weeks—sixteen days, but she wasn’t counting—for Henry tofinallyreach out.
“You really got a signal out here?”
“I told you before, two bars. Sometimes three.”
“Must’ve been a good text. You’re grinning like a Cheshire cat.”
“It’s from Henry.” Trish flashed a malicious smirk to the squirrel, nearby now. He’d perked up on that low-hanging branch, studying her instead of Wade with interest and caution. “He doesn’t even know I left town. This is going to be great!” The squirrel skittered up a tree at the shift in her tone.
“Who’s that?”
Part of her wanted to keep Henry a secret, especially from Wade, though it didn’t make sense. Telling him—maybe adding in a few embellishments—would make it clear she wasn’t interested. “Boyfriend of sorts. Well, we’ve been dating for six months. But I broke things off a couple of weeks ago.”
Wade continued to eat his sandwich. He didn’t ask for details, but he didn’t stop her either, so Trish kept on.
“Henry doesn’t consider writing to be a realistic career option. Says writing books is a waste of time. He thinks I need to work in an office all my life. Build arealcareer.” She left out the part about his skipping out on her celebration.
“Sounds horrible,” Wade said. “Who wants to work in an office their whole life?”
“Exactly!” They shared an innocent smile. At least Trish thought it was innocent until her pulse betrayed her. “What’s for lunch?” She dug in the bag that was most definitely covered in pink crayon hearts.
“Roast beef sandwiches.”
Trish fished one out, discovering a container of apple slices too. “Once I get a chance to talk to that literary agent about my book, that’ll show Henry he was wrong. If she happens to like my story, I might get an offer to work with her. You know, a contract and all that. Contracts is a language Henry understands.”
“What do you see in this guy Hank anyway?”
“Henry.” Trish locked eyes with Daphne, who was definitely eyeing her apple slices. Setting down her sandwich, Trish carried a handful over to the horse. “He’s practical, has a successful career, is great with numbers, very organized, stable . . .”
Wade flashed an amused smile her way. “You sound like you’re reading his resume.”
“He’s a good guy,” Trish defended, though the words left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Don’t sound so sure.”
Trish giggled at the tickle of Daphne’s lips on her hands.What would it be like to have my own horse someday?She gave Daphne some love, kissed her on the muzzle, then turned back to her lunch with the frown gone. “I miss being around horses,” she said, eager to change the subject.
“Did you have horses, before you moved to Omaha?”
“No.” Trish took a bite of her sandwich. “In one of the towns I lived in when I was thirteen, I worked at a stable for a whole summer. It’s where I learned to ride.”
“You moved around a lot.” Not a question.
