I pull out my device and press the side button. “Yes, Ryder. Go to the bathroom. I’ll get Clara.”
The moment of distraction is all Clara needs, though. She’s abandoned the flowerbed to sniff the brood of Silkies that have come around the side of the house, intent on seeing what’s going on out here. One flies in the air with a wild flap of her wings, not appreciating a large cow nose sniffing her backside. Another pecks at poor Clara’s ear. She retaliates by stomping her hooves, which makes all the chickens dance and squawk.
“What are you doing to my precious chickens?” Meemaw hollers from the front porch. Oh, great. She was snoozing in her chair with the television droning on just a few minutes ago.
The walkie-talkie screeches again. “Is that my cue to start the music?” Pops asks from the kitchen.
“Stay away from my babies, you beast!” Meemaw screeches.
Clara doesn’t like the screaming, though. She head-bops a chicken, sending it flying back several feet. Meemaw gasps. “I’m gettin’ the shotgun!”
Jesus Christ.
Shelby reaches my side as Ryder streaks past on a mission to find the bathroom. She hands me a rope. “I’ll talk to her. You get this around her neck.” She’s fighting back laughter, and as embarrassing as this is, I don’t blame her.
Shelby sweet-talks Clara away from the hens long enough for me to rope her and start leading her back to the barn. Thankfully, we make our escape before Meemaw can get the shells in the shotgun. Shelby comes with me to the barn, tossing me sidelong glances as I grumble under my breath. I may kick a few rocks while I’m at it too.
She waits to speak until I get Clara in her stall and feed her some carrots as a reward, even though she didn’t follow directions at all. I pull my cowboy hat off my head and circle it around in my hands. When I lift my head, Shelby is smiling at me from ear to ear.
“Recreating the day we met?” she asks softly.
I wince. “That could have gone better.”
Her smile is contagious, though, because I feel myself smiling back before long. Shelby launches herself at me unexpectedly, her arms squeezing the ever-loving hell out of my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tight. At least she doesn’t hate me for botching the grand gesture.
“Thank you,” she whispers in my ear.
“For fucking that up spectacularly?” I whisper back.
She shakes with laughter, and I join in. By the time she pulls away, we’re both laughing so hard we have tears in our eyes. I sling my arm around her shoulders and walk her to the paddock so she can get going on checking out the calves.
So much for a grand gesture to make her fall in love with me. I better read a few more romance novels before I try again.
Chapter
Nineteen
BUTTER ME AND CALL ME A BISCUIT
Shelby
One of the many traits that makes Dallas so likable is his willingness to do just about anything. The man is always up for a good time, but he’s also the first to volunteer when somebody needs a favor or a boost.
Anytime he hears the opener, “You know what we should do?” he’s already out of his chair and ready to go. Road trips, tractor races, arm wrestling, skinny dipping, roping contests, dares, random favors, you name it.
I’ll never forget our senior year spring play when the male lead got mono and there was nobody to fill in. The whole cast was devastated until Dallas waltzed in and volunteered for the gig. Despite him forgetting lines or reading them off his hand, his charm won over the audience, and the whole cast got a standing ovation.
Then there was the weekend he and Houston drove out to Missouri, where I was stressing out in vet school, and they kidnapped me for a Kenny Chesney concert. It turned out to be one of the best weekends of my life, one we still talk about.
And the time he fixed Jeannie Rochety’s leaky roof while she was in the hospital having surgery, and nobody could figure out who did it. To this day, I’m the only one who knows.
So, it shouldn’t surprise me that Dallas would get a wild hair and reenact our first meeting as some kind of grand gesture. Especially knowing how upset I was on Friday night with the perimenopause bombshell. It’s exactly the thing a great best friend would do to cheer me up, and I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the sight of Clara and those chickens going at it. Thank god Meemaw’s favorite, Isadora, wasn’t involved or we all might have been shot.
“Hey, Shelby, you got a minute?” Skye calls from the barn.
I peel off my gloves and drop them by my gear. I’m pretty much done here, and my next client isn’t until this afternoon. Plenty of time to help Skye and grab some lunch in town. I’ve got no clue where Dallas snuck off to, but I see Ryder shadowing Pops as he feeds the horses.
“What’s that noise?” Ryder asks, his features pinched as his head cocks to the side. We all stop to listen, and sure enough, there’s a low-frequency rumbling sound.
