“Nothing. Just a silly hobby of mine.” I quickly tuck my phone into my back pocket. “Ready to go?”
A dimple on his right cheek comes out to play, and I have to look away to keep from blushing as I nod.
I rush in his direction as he leads the way toward his black Ford F-250. He scrambles to beat me to the passenger side of the truck, so he can open the door for me with a soft smile.
“Thanks.”
When he leaps into the driver’s seat and puts the truck in reverse, I can’t help but ask, “So, you live here all the time?” I lift my hand to gesture to the bigger house nestled about a hundred feet away from the cottage.
“Yup. It’s pretty nice, huh? I don’t spend all that much time here between working on the ranch and helping people in town with various projects, but that might change with you around.” The way he says it isn’t sleazy or even flirty. It’s more like a protectiveI’ll be looking out for youkind of way. I hold my breath as I try to tamp down the image of an overprotective Rhett. Oh god, I don’t think I could take being more attracted to him.
“Your parents are going to be so excited to see you.”
“How did you meet them?” I pry, still trying to get a read on him and why my parents love him enough to invite him to dinner on my first night in Texas.
“I helped your mom with a flat tire one day on the way home from work. She’s so kind. I immediately knew I liked her. We got to talking, and she said I’d probably hit it off with your dad, which I did. When I found out that she and your dad were starting to get some animals on their property, I offered to help out just a bit in the evenings, and the rest is history. I think they’re really happy now that they’ve had some time to settle in. They’ve said they’re living their dream life.”
“I bet they call you their dream kid too,” I murmur.
He doesn’t seem to hear me as he flips his blinker on, completely clueless.
“Did you grow up in Roots?”
“No, I moved here about four years ago, and now it’s my home.”
I purse my lips. He’s hiding something. “Why’d you move here? You must’ve been right out of college when you came to town, right? What kind of person graduates from college and moves to a small town like this?”
“I grew up in Texas but went to college in New York. After graduation, I quickly realized the city life and a corporate job weren’t for me. I wanted some community and a fresh start, so I found Roots.”
“I’m still not sure I get it.”
“You will soon. There’s just something about Roots that makes people want to stay here.”
I raise my eyebrows in amusement. “Yeah, right. The heat alone is enough to send me packing ASAP.”
He just laughs. “What about you? What brings you here?”
“Haven’t my parents already told you?”
“Yeah, but I figured I’d ask for your side.”
I consider that for a moment. I respect him for wanting to hear what I have to say. I’d like to think my version is a little less dramatic, but at the end of the day, I’m sure the facts are all the same.
“I—” I haven’t exactly shared my story out loud yet. I’m not sure what to say.
Rhett just continues driving, waiting expectantly.
He turns off the main road onto a gravel driveway with a red-painted mailbox that reads Parker in white swirly stencil letters.
The gravel road winds down to a large home with a sprawling green lawn that looks straight out of one of my mom’s Better Homes & Gardens magazines. Chickens roam freely in the front yard, and if I hadn’t just seen my last name on the mailbox, I wouldn’t believe my parents live here. My mom was always terrified of birds.
“Saved by the bell, I guess,” Rhett notes. “You can tell me on the way home.”
“Can’t wait.” I grimace.
As we pull up, my dad rolls out from underneath an old green truck. He must’ve been tinkering with the engine. He’s always liked cars and motorsports, but when we lived in California, he only ever watched shows about them on television. Now, he appears to have started a collection of old trucks. It feels different from the dad I grew up with, but maybe he’s just getting back in touch with his Texas roots. He grew up not too far from here.
My mom rises from her position crouched in the lawn, plucking weeds. Her hair is swirled in a messy bun, and there’s dirt all over her knees. She too has changed a lot from the woman who used to get bi-monthly manicures and wouldn’t be caught dead in public without a full face of makeup.
