My hands curl in the cowboy’s cozy flannel, not ready to give it back.
Then, he says—like he might talk about the weather or fall crops—“I could take you on one, if you’d like?”
Chapter
Eight
ALLIE
Icould take you on one, if you’d like?
I hear the words, but I don’t know what he means, fingers gripping the flannel as I stare out into the fluttering flakes.
Slow crooning. Windshield wipers. Even the slightest whisper of flakes hitting glass becomes perceptible. Like time has stopped breathing.
“You mean… like a date?” I pause. “You and me?”
He nods once, hands still gripping the steering wheel, face calm and emotionless.
I open my mouth to refuse, then realize he’s not forcing me to say yes. No guilt trips. No manipulation.
Just a chance to seedifferent.
I wet my lips, faithful to last night’s revelation.
“Yes.”
Simple. Done.
We drive past Stillwater Ski Resort, bustling with people, skis or snowboards thrown over shoulders. Children hold sleds, their laughter silent behind the truck’s glass.
When he parks in front of FarmCo Feed and Tack, I can’t help but laugh.
He looks sheepish but doesn’t make excuses, rounding the car quickly to get my door before I can do it myself.
“Careful,” he says, gripping my fingers as I step down onto shiny black pavement. Heat seeps through my gloves, gone all too quickly when he pulls away, offering his arm instead.
What would it be like if this were real? Not a pity date.
Staring up into his rugged face, though, all I read is calm peace that makes my shoulders drop and my body stop bracing.
The bell chimes on the door as we pass through, greeted on the other side by two orange hens. Hay and grain thread the air—sweet and pungent—as dust motes swirl with each step.
“Real live chickens,” I exclaim, smiling despite myself.
“Trudy and Ginger,” he grumbles like they’re old friends.
“Austin!” a soft voice calls from the corner. “What can I do you for?”
“Just looking today.”
An older woman with overalls and gray-streaked red hair pulled into a loose bun stands behind a cash register, agriculture posters and calendars lining the wall behind her. Her pale blue eyes dart between us, a tight smile pressing into her lips, like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Cindy, this is Allie. Allie, Cindy.”
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Nice to meet you.”
