We stop in front of the only ranch with a “For Sale” sign—a big, black truck parked next to it.
“Need me to wait?” he asks.
“No, I’ve got my phone handy and can call for a ride,” I answer breathlessly.
“Best of luck to you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Jack.”
My hands are still for the first time I can remember. Waiting for something that’s not a promise—but possible.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
MIA
Heat shimmers across red clay. Katydids roar like mini rattlers. The wind sweeps through the tall grass on the edge of the property.
Anticipation burgeons behind my ribs.
I don’t know whether he’s here. Yet, I feel him to the marrow of my bones.
In the distance, verdant green parses the golden plains. Row upon row of lines, emerald vines snaking upward around wire and twine. Pea or bean plants if I had to guess.
Shading my eyes against the sun, I stare up through the rows. They have to be a good twenty feet tall, maybe more. They cast columns of shade in the surrounding grass, swishing and swaying with the breeze, bathing me in momentary cool as I walk the line.
Silvery irrigation ditches run next to them, cooling the surrounding land.
A fat robin darts between vines, warbling and warning as I draw closer. Must have a nest nearby. A painted bunting flits past, riotous feathers giving it away. A luminous hummingbird hovers low, beak dipping toward my hair.
I laugh under my breath, swatting the iridescent beauty away. “My hair’s not a flower,” I scold.
Then, I see him.
Off in the distance, a tall man paces. Slight limp, beige hat slung low over dark eyes. He walks between fence posts, measuring them with his stride. Then, testing wire, hands working. More a rancher than a bodyguard, his measured movements and silent gaze attest.
I walk between the emerald trellises, breath held, catching glimmers of the big man between each row. He appears, disappears. Again and again, as my throat tightens, and I mentally string words together.
Don’t know if I’ll be able to speak. Breath already stuttering, pulse racing.
I touch the silver circle necklace, cool turquoise, to steady myself.
Suddenly, he stops, stills for a long, silent moment. As if he senses a change in the wind.
I wait, holding my breath. Uncertain if I’ve made the right move coming here.
He turns slowly, scanning the green strands until our eyes meet.
They lock.
He doesn’t smile.
Doesn’t speak.
Just stares for a breathless moment that stretches forever.
I open my mouth. My voice fails me.
