“Relax, sweetheart. It’s not weird.”
“I beg to differ,” she murmured. Her lower lip rolled between her teeth and she tore her focus from him toward the fire. Then so quiet, he almost didn’t hear her, she asked, “What do you want to know?”
Tripp smiled. While it was tempting to ask her why she hated him so much, he knew better. She wasn’t about to tell him anything. Right now, she had let down her walls even if it was only a little. Safe questions would be smarter.
He cleared his throat. “Why Rocky Ridge?”
“Pardon?”
“Why move to Rocky Ridge? You mentioned you were from Georgia, so unless you moved here with family…” he drawled, leaving the question open-ended.
She nodded. “Your assumption is correct. My family didn’t move out this way. I’m on my own.” Her voice was soft and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear a twinge of loneliness.
“That must be hard—not being close to your family.”
“Yeah.” Wendy gestured around the campfire. “But I have a few close friends. And I love this town. It reminds me a lot of home.”
“So why did you pick here? What is it about this place that drew you in?”
Wendy studied him for a moment then sighed. “It’s really not that interesting of a story. My grandmother’s best friend owned the antique shop. She didn’t have kids of her own, so she left it to my grandma. I was the only one in our family who was willing to move out here to take care of it. Otherwise, it would have closed.” She shrugged. “And yeah, Rocky Ridge is a cute little town that reminds me a lot of home. It wasn’t a hard decision.”
“But it’s not what you want to do.”
Once again, her body went still and her eyes found his, full of shock. “How do you know that?”
He didn’t. But if he were honest with himself and her, he’d tell her that she didn’t seem the type to dream of running a shop like that one. It was a job. It might be enjoyable, but it wasn’t a dream.
Tripp could relate. He liked the work he did, but was it his dream? Nope. He’d never admit to his dream, though. His family would laugh him right off the ranch. Being a wrangler was a safe bet. He nudged Wendy with his knee. “Tell me something real, sweetheart. What’s going on in that pretty little head? What would you do if you could do anything?”
This was probably the longest stretch where Wendy didn’t have her brows furrowed or her lip curled with discontent. Her smooth, relaxed features made her even more angelic. Wendy tilted her head and one side of her mouth twitched.
“I know that look,” he murmured. “This is gonna be good.”
And just like that, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “Don’t make fun of me.”
He held up both hands and shook his head. “I swear I won’t make fun of you. Cross my heart.”
She squinted at him. “Easy to say that when you don’t have a heart.”
His mouth dropped open and he held a hand to his chest. “Ouch.”
Wendy flinched. “Sorry.”
He chuckled. “I’ve got tough skin. Don’t worry about it.”
She blew out a breath and shifted her attention to the firelight. “Fine. But you promised and if you laugh, you’ll get it.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he muttered under his breath, earning himself another rare smile.
“I want to write a book.”
His brows lifted. “That’s…”
Wendy pointed at him. “You promised.”
Tripp bit the inside of his cheek to fight the smile. His amusement to her reaction more than anything else. “No,” he insisted. “I was going to say that’s… commendable.”
Her eyes narrowed further. She didn’t trust him, but maybe she wanted to? “Commendable,” she muttered flatly.
