“We’d been dating for six months, but I broke it off after that,” Trish said. “Kind of here to prove him wrong, actually. He can’t grasp my dream to write. At least, not without some kind of contract with a publisher.”
“Honey, you are so much better off without him!” Marti said.
“I hope you’re planning to make that man realize what he had?” Glenda nudged her with her shoulder. “Wedoget to take pictures with some dreamy cowboys tomorrow. Post those puppies online and give him something to be jealous over.”
For the first time since she arrived, Trish felt herself completely relax and excitement took over. This week could be exactly what she needed. To be surrounded by positive, likeminded writers and some attractive cowboys perfect for story inspiration—yes, this week could be good indeed.
“Speaking of the photoshoot,” Lina interjected, “I’d like to cover some itinerary items. Everyone should have found a folder in their room.” Lina waved a dark pink portfolio for them to see. “It has the schedule for the week for each of you. We’ll try to meet up once a day to talk about your progress or any points you’re stuck on in your stories. Some of the events are group events. Other events, like your scheduled session with our agent, are individual.”
“When is that?” Marti asked.
“Thursday,” Lina answered. “Taylor Voss will be joining us through Skype. We have a private room set up with a computer and webcam.”
Three days from now. It was scary and exciting. Trish couldn’t wait. Maybe then, after she had an agent to back up her book, Henry would have to admit that her dream to be an author was legit.
“When do we get to meet the cowboys?” Glenda asked.
“After dinner,” Lina answered. “Wade, my oldest grandson, will get a fire going on the back patio so we can make s'mores.”
Trish had hoped she’d avoid Wade for at least the rest of this day. Maybe by tomorrow he’d get her confused with one of the other writers or forget about their messy meeting.
Glenda leaned close and in a low tone said, “You’re extra lucky. You get that handsome cowboy as your personal escort all week.”
Trish took a sip of ice water and mentally reminded herself that he wasn’t available. The memory of Wade standing in the doorway, filling out a fitted T-shirt rather well, mouth frozen open in shock, made her heart do a little pitter-patter.
Chapter 3
Wade
The lowering sunwarned Wade he should soon head back to the house. Allen had gone home a couple of hours ago, but he had busied himself with the new deck for his cabin. Well, he considered it his cabin anyway. Grams knew he was fixing it up a little, but she likely had no idea the extent. She didn’t venture out to the north pasture much anymore.
Shadow sat on the spot where Wade would eventually add a railing, her tail swishing lazily. Two eyes peeked up along the deck’s edge, intently fixed on that tail. Shadow seemed oblivious to the cat about to pounce.
“Think we should probably head back, huh?” he said to the dog.
Shadow’s eyes met his, but she didn’t so much as lift her chin at that statement. She liked it out here as much as he did. The north pasture offered the quietest place on the entire ranch. It also offered the best views of the Bighorn mountains and breathtaking sunsets. He often wondered why his great-grandpa built the main house so far south. But a house that size would never fit as well as this one-room cabin did, nestled in these rolling hills.
Before Wade could force himself to stand, the gray-striped cat he’d named Squirrel sprang onto the deck and attacked Shadow’s tail. Shadow shot up in surprise, but before she could catch the culprit, the cat shot off the side of the deck.
Wade let out a good laugh at the show but then, out of excuses to stay away, he started up his ATV. “C’mon, girl. We gotta head back.”
Shadow sniffed along the edge of the deck for her attacker, but had to admit defeat when Wade gave a sharp whistle. Once she hopped on the back, Wade turned the ATV toward the house. Grams would be livid if he stayed out much later. Time to head back and brave the new guests he’d never admit were unwanted. Animals were so much easier to hang out with than people. Add that those people were writers, extra curious about the cowboy lifestyle, and Wade may as well have volunteered to be on a reality show.
“Writers,” he mumbled as he maneuvered through the narrow dirt trails, trying to avoid the bumps for Shadow’s sake. “Why writers, Grams?”
Earlier today there’d only been one. Now there’d be five of them. Hopefully no one else had gotten stuck in the mud. He and Allen had snuck back before lunch to fill the hole and set up cones before anyone else arrived. But no doubt he’d hear about his poor timing. Grams would probably insist he wash Trish’s car. The number of muddy handprints still made him smirk.
All Wade wanted was a quiet life. One in which he could get up at the crack of dawn and see to the needs of his ranch. His animals. His land. Then come home in the evenings, eat a simple meal, and sit quietly by the fire with a loyal dog and perhaps a cat. In the warmer months, that meant sitting outside around a fire pit. Tonight, Wade was expected to share that fire pit in the company of a bunch of chatty women.
Wade was forced to park his ATV farther away than usual, near a grove of trees. There was a car with an Illinois license plate in his usual space.
“One week,” he grumbled under his breath. He could handle one week as long as Grams didn’t get it in her head to host more of these retreats.
Through the bay window, he could see into the dining room. The large table, hardly ever used now that so many of their family members were gone, was surrounded by women. Wade scowled for a moment, quite irritated by the disruption of his quiet evening. But then he saw Grams laugh out loud, her smile so wide her eyes were squeezed closed.
He hadn’t seen a smile that heartfelt since Grandpa had been gone.
In that moment, the cold shell around Wade’s heart softened. Even if he hated every minute of this week, he’d endure it for Grams. His mom, he’d often been told, had died of a broken heart. He didn’t want the same fate for the woman who raised him.
