His phone buzzed against his sternum, and he picked it up.
Yeah, I’ve got someone in mind for you,Wilder said.Not one of my cousins. But Savannah and I were talking to her at the dance, and she seemed, I don’t know, lonely.
“Great,” Ty muttered, his thumbs hovering above the screen as he tried to figure out how to respond. The last thing he wanted was a blind-date-set-up with some lonely spinster. He could find someone like that himself, thank you very much.
You’re not answering,Wilder said after a moment.Does this mean no?
I don’t even know who it is,Ty said.
You already know her,Wilder said.And I don’t know—she seemed to be watching you during the dance.
Yeah?Ty swallowed, his pulse ratcheting through his body for a different reason now.Who was watching me during the dance?
Winona Landry.
Ty dropped his phone, a corner of it landing hard against his breastbone as Winnie’s first and last name burned into his retinas.
Of course she was watching him. Winnie was always critiquing his movement, his core support, and his strength. It didn’t mean anything, did it?
He picked up his phone as it buzzed again.
I told her I’d give her your number, but she said she already had it. That’s when Savannah’s mom called and we had to leave.
Ty started to type something, but Wilder came in with another message.I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea. I think she’s your physical therapist.
Ty erased what he’d started to type.Yeah,he said.She is.
So maybe she’d be safe?Wilder said.I know you tried that one time over the summer, and it didn’t go super well.
“Yeah, because of Winnie,” Ty muttered to himself. He could just see her pressing through the crowd at the summer dance and bossing his friends around for how to help him stand up.
At the same time, Winnie never judged him. She never looked at him like he couldn’t do what everyone else could do, and she always positioned herself on his right side so he could hear her. She was gorgeous and thoughtful and a great physical therapist.
I’ll think about it,Ty said.
Okay,Wilder said.Let me know, because I know Trap doesn’t have a date either, and I thought maybe he could ask her too.
The idea of Trap Walker going out with Winnie made Ty’s blood run like molten lava through his veins. “Absolutely not,” he muttered, and his movements almost became stabs instead of taps as he started a new text, put Winnie’s name in it, and sent her a message.
His eyelids grew heavy, and he couldn’t fight off the effects of the pain in his body and theSimply Sleepmedication he’d swallowed a half-hour ago. He managed to plug in his phone and set it on his nightstand before succumbing to the blissful wash of unconsciousness, where he dreamed of a beautiful brunette brushing his hair off his forehead to gently wake him in the morning…and she looked gloriously like Winona Landry.
2
“Three Rivers Ranch isreallyfar out here,” Winona Landry said, peering through the dark night ahead of her. It hadn’t seemed that far when she’d driven out for the New Year’s Eve dance, and she told herself that was because she hadn’t been alone on the way out.
She huffed, her fingers tightening on the wheel. It was just like Taylor to bail on her for a handsome face and a sexy cowboy hat. “Honestly, did you think your sister had changedthatmuch?”
Yes, yes, she had. Winnie thought the best of people, and she was still learning that not everyone could be trusted, that not everyone told the truth, and that not everyone was nice. Her own sister included.
She glanced at her infotainment screen as a text popped up. The sound came a moment later, covering up the low warble of the radio she had on to keep her company on the long drive back to town.
Tyson Greeneflashed on the screen, and a blue button sat there that saidREAD ALOUD.
Winnie reached out and tapped it, her pulse picking up the pace as her mind fired questions at her. Was Tyson all right? Why wouldhe be texting her? He’d never done that before, despite her giving him her number and telling him to text about anything that came up between their therapy sessions.
The cowboy remained as elusive as ever, even if he’d improved by leaps and bounds since Winnie had started working with him six months ago. He never smiled. He barely said hello, and at least eighty percent of the time, he didn’t say good-bye at all. Still, he kept coming back, and his work outside of their sessions showed, because he’d only gotten straighter, stronger, and more square since she’d taken over his treatment.
Winnie pushed against the pride flowing through her. It wasn’t her doing the work, but him, and she did try to praise him at any opportunity. “The problem is,” she said aloud. “That only seems to irritate him further.”
