“We made these and you have to take some home.” She hands me a plate of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and smiles that sweet smile I’ve always loved. “Thanks Lythie, where’s little Jake?”
“He’s napping and as soon as I get back inside, I’m going to join him.” She sighs with a laugh. I remember those days.
“We’ll get out of your hair, but I want you to meet Dixie first. She’s going to be staying with us a little longer and could probably use a friend.”
“Of course! I’d love it!”
I grip the handle and pull. The door swings open and Lythie, sweet as ever, goes in for a hug at first sight. Dixie settles into the hug almost instantly.
“It’s so great to meet you! I’m Blythe. We need toexchange numbers, and become best friends, it’ll be so fun. I can leave the baby with Justin and drop by your place soon.” She pulls out her phone and hands it to Dixie so she can type in her digits. I barely notice the ongoing interaction because my brain is stuck on the words, “your place.” Take away theYand it becomesourplace.
That sounds right—too right.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The cookies faded from the plate over the next few days. Blythe came over and from what I could tell, they had a good time. Dixie kicked the crutches today and is putting weight on her ankle for the first time. She won’t be ready to take that off for a little while, but as the days move on, I’m feeling resistant to the fact, she will eventually be back to normal and won’t need me or this house anymore. But when she ultimately insists on going back to the bunkhouse, I’ll have to break the news to her it won't be happening. The sheepdog inside of me won’t allow it.
Brian keeps me updated on what’s going on at the cow camp. We’re moving into July and they’ll be there into August. We’ll do a rotation soon and switch the boys around to give everyone a reprieve and a brief vacation. The few who stayed back are itching to get up into the mountains and sleep under the stars.
I’ve been gearing up for the Fourth of July parade all week. We decorated the trailer for our Silo Springs Ranch float, and my girls are on cloud nine. It’s theirfavorite part of the summer. There’s a big community potluck picnic after the parade. People play horseshoes and compete in potato sack races, egg on a spoon, those kinds of games. Then there’s a rodeo with fireworks in the evening. Both are contingent on the weather. Last year we got rained out, but it’s looking like clear skies today and for the foreseeable future.
“Dad! Do you like it?” Evolette squeals as she runs toward me. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to notice. She’s wearing her classic jeans, shirt and her cowgirl hat. She’s cute, but nothing looks unusual.
“I love it! Whatever it is…” I lift a brow, and she rolls her eyes.
“Ugh.” She grunts and pulls the hat off her hair. She spins around so her back is facing me and points to the top of her head. “It’s a French braid! See, from the top to the bottom. Dixie did it for me. She did Addie’s hair like this too. Now when I race, I won’t have hair blowing in my face.” She waggles her eyebrows and puts her hat back on her head.
“Very logical of you, princess.” I say with a wink.
I look up and see Addie coming down the porch steps with a sunflower blonde goddess limping next to her. Dixie’s wearing her usual getup, but her hair is curled underneath her dusty beige hat. She’s wearing a bigger belt buckle than usual, and those jeans are painted on buckskin tight.
Fuck me, she looks like she’s one of us. Every damn day she’s here the fantasy fog grows thicker. My girls love her, and I… damnit, I want to lay her down and eat her for breakfast even more.
“Hey, boss—think I can ride Blazey girl in the parade?” She smirks, and I give it right back.
“You ready to pony up, barely outta those crutches, blondie?”
Her eyes shift sideways toward the barn. “Maybe…” She’s joking, but something tells me she’s actually thought about it. I run my hand over my beard and take a step closer, towering over her.
“Dixie Wilder, you so much as try to mount a horse, forat leastthe next two weeks, I’ll tan your hide.”
She can sure as hell mount me if she wants though.
She steps a little closer, fronting me. “I dare you.” The left side of her mouth tilts up when she says it, and her green eyes glint with her challenge.
She doesn’t even know what I could do. It takes everything I have inside of me to bite my tongue, because my two daughters are standing right next to us. I want to grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, bend down, and bite her bottom lip between my teeth. Then I’d reach around, spank her jean clad ass and tell herexactlyhow I’dtanher hide. But I lower my voice to a deep rumble and say, “Just obey the rules, and we won’t have to get that far.”
Her breath hitches and I jerk my head sideways toward the truck, telling them all to get inside. I don’t want to be late and lose our spot in line for the parade.
“Dad!” Evolette panics from the back seat. “We forgot to get the throwing candy!”
I pat the top of the center console. “Nope. Got it right here.” I look at her through the rearview mirror with a smile. I picked it up on one of my trips to town recently.
Her body relaxes as she lets out an audible sigh. “Phew. Thanks, Dad. We can’t have a float without candy.” Adelaide giggles next to her and Dixie smiles. We usually have more bunk boys riding on the float, but since we had to drive the cattle up early, it’ll be just us and the few guys still on the ranch—plus Blythe and baby Jake. Justin will ride one of his horses behind us with hisForge Farrier Co.banners. If they didn’t have the baby, Lythie would ride with him. But it all works out this way.
We rolled up to the parade, just in time. I sat Dixie between Addie and Evie, but without Blythe monitoring how much candy got thrown, it was gone in twenty minutes. Which meant, they had to just smile and wave for nearly half the parade.
The Forge family contributed the watermelon for the picnic and I brought all the meat this year. Brian and I grilled for hours while everyone played games. And there hasn’t been a lick of rain. So the mayor of Amber Ridge announced on his megaphone that since the skies have been clear all day, the rodeo and fireworks are still on. My girls have maxed out the weight limit for mutton busting, which made them a little sad. Riding the sheep was their favorite part of the Fourth of July rodeo. But Evie begged me to sign her up for a barrel race. It’s competitive, set up for the younger girls, ten and under.
