“Damn oil well.” Pops scowls. “The Kincaids ain’t keeping up with maintenance. Those pumpjacks probably haven’t been serviced in months. I’ll have a word.”
“It’s super annoying,” Ryder complains. “Can’t we tell them to shut it off?”
“Afraid it’s not that simple. Come on now and help me feed Lulu.”
Ryder frowns but does as he’s told.
“What’s up?” I ask Skye. She’s standing at the barn door with their pretty Appaloosa named Tango.
“Probably nothing. I was exercising Tango yesterday, and it felt like she might have been favoring her front left.”
“Lemme take a look.” Skye holds Tango’s rope while I test her joints and examine her hooves and shoes. “I don’t see anything. She’s letting me maneuver her around without being jumpy. Shoes look good. Walk her around and let me see.”
Skye leads her in a few circles as I watch, but she looks fit as a fiddle. I check my watch and make a decision.
“Go on and saddle her up. I’m gonna grab something, and then I’ll take her for a ride just to make sure.”
“You sure you have time for that?”
“No problem.” It’s been a while since I’ve gone for a good ride, despite it being one of my favorite things to do. “I’ll enjoy it.”
Satisfied with my answer, Skye takes Tango back into the barn, and I head to Dallas’s truck that’s still parked by the house. He must be helping Ridge with something on horseback because both Whiskey and Echo are gone.
I swing open the passenger door and go right for the glove box where Dallas keeps a stash of protein bars. It’ll have to do since it looks like I’m not getting lunch today. I shove one in my jeans pocket, but just as I go to close the glove box, something catches my eye.
“What the…”
Closer inspection reveals a white box with a label that reads Ovulation Test Kit, along with numerous pamphlets about fertility. Where in god’s name did he get this? Did he really buy this for me?
“Dallas, you big softie.” I smile, imagining him walking into the pharmacy in Hornville and asking what his perimenopausal friend might need to help her get pregnant. I shouldn’t have said anything to him. I haven’t even made an appointment with my gynecologist to confirm my decrepit state, and here he is taking action. He’s probably out right now finding me a man who has baby fever.
“She’s all set!” Skye hollers, and I close both the glove box and the truck door before heading over.
I give Tango a few pets and tell her what we’re going to do, then mount her. We take a few paces, and it’s clear she’s ready to ride, so I give her the reins, and we take off in a canter heading west.
The rolling plains open up before us as we crest the first hill, tall grass swaying in the afternoon breeze, with the odd cluster of trees dotting the fence lines. The sky is an enormous sheet of blue, nearly cloudless, the only decoration being a group of birds circling to our left.
Tango’s hooves beat out a steady rhythm on the compact dirt, changing pace as she breaks into a gallop. I let out awhoop, my nose filling with earthy red dust and a hint of sweet hay. The breeze is glorious against my skin as we speed through the grass and across a dry creek bed until we near the river.
“There’s not a thing wrong with you, is there?” I ask as I slow her down, and we approach the riverbank.
“You caught me.” Dallas’s voice nearly startles me out of the saddle.
“Give a girl a warning, Gamble.” I laugh and dismount, holding Tango’s reins as we wander in the direction of his voice.
We finally round a huge oak tree, and there he is, shirtless and waist-deep in the river. From the pile of clothes on the grass, I don’t have to wonder what he’s wearing on his bottom half. A familiar tingle starts climbing up my thighs to my belly at the thought.
“It feels great. You should come in.” He runs both hands through his thick, wet hair, droplets flying in every direction. He looks like a model for an adventure advertisement.
I secure Tango’s reins to a tree branch and start toeing off my boots. It is August in Oklahoma, after all. “I figured you were helping Ridge, but here you are playing hooky.”
“More like hiding from the humiliation of my failed grand gesture.” He scrunches his nose, making him look just like his son.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” My socks are next, and then my jeans. “Where did you learn about grand gestures anyway, cowboy?”
He swirls his hands through the water surrounding him and shrugs. “Some woman on a podcast was talking about them being her favorite part of a romance book, so I figured you might like it. Had to ask Siri for specifics, though.”
“I did like it.” I hate that he went to the effort and worried he messed everything up.
