“Wes, that potato's done. You’re peeling off the good parts.”
Iglance down at the potato in my hand, then at the pile of perfectly edible peelings in the trash before giving Sawyer a wry grin. “Sorry.”
She wipes her hands on her apron before teasing the hair at the nape of my neck. “I know you’re nervous. It’s going to be fine. Your parents love you.” She kisses my cheek and then glances around me to Pops. “Tell him I’m right,” she says.
“She’s right. Your parents love you,” Pops mumbles, his mustache twitching in amusement.
She gives me herI told you solook and I rest a hand on her hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you’re right. It’s the anticipation of how they’ll react that’s killing me.”
The sound of gravel crunching under tires has my insides clenching so hard I might have a coronary. Sawyer’s gaze swings to the window over the kitchen sink, and she gives my beard a gentle scratch before stealing a quick kiss. “Looks like you don’t have much longer to wait. Let’s get this over with, hm?”
I nod and trudge over to open the door. Quinn makes it up the porch steps first in her high heels. She throws her arms around me, a bottle of wine in one hand and her designer bag in the other, while Dixie dances at her feet, tail wagging in glee. “Thank God, we made it.”
She smiles at the dog and kneels down to give her the attention she's dying for. "Hi, sweet girl. Aren't you a pretty thing?"
I tilt my head to the side. “Rough drive down?”
She glances over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Mom and Dad were bickering the whole way here. You know how they are in the car. Mom kept nitpicking his driving and Dad was losing his patience. Next time, I’m driving myself.”
I snort. “Where’s the boyfriend? I thought you were going to ride down with him.”
Her shoulders slump. “He ended up being on call at the clinic, so he couldn’t make it. Please point me toward the corkscrew and the wine glasses because I need a damn drink.”
I step aside, gesturing her toward the kitchen. “Sawyer can help you find what you need.”
Dad stomps up the porch steps. “Good to see you, Wes,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. He looks back at Mom, whose lips are pursed as she looks over the small house with derision. She picks her way over the broken-up walkway, trying not to get mud on her heels. “I’m going to go see if Quinn has that wine open yet.”
“Honey, it’s so good to see you,” Mom says when she reaches the porch. She leans in and kisses me on the cheek before looking me over like she used to when I was a kid to see if I had any dirt on me before coming into the house.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” I ask with a laugh.
“You’ve got some color in your cheeks, and you don’t look nearly so worried as you did at my party.”
“Well, there’s no chance I’ll be running into Hannah here,” I say, cocking a brow.
“Iamsorry. Quinn told me Hannah caused a little tension between you and Sawyer. If I’d known you two were… well, I wouldn’t have invited her to the party.”
I sigh. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was bringing a date.”
She waves off my apology. “All is forgiven.” She studies me with the scrutinizing gaze of a mother. “You look happy, honey,” she says after a moment of contemplation.
“Yeah. Iamhappy, Mom.”
She gives me a warm smile. “Well, thank goodness for small blessings. Now, let’s get inside. It’s awfully cold to be standing out here on the porch, not to mention the smell.”
I duck my head and smile. I don’t even notice the smell anymore.
"Honey, your hair could use a trim, and that beard is truly getting out of hand," she says as she brushes past me into the house, and I follow her inside where the smells of turkey and stuffing chase away the smell of the horses.
Once everyone is settled with a glass of wine, Mom pulls a folder from her bag and passes it to Pops.
“Here's the listing agreement for the ranch. Wes fulfilled his end of the deal, and I'm glad it brought you to your senses.”
Of course, Mom has all the paperwork in hand for Pops to sign on the dotted line. I glance towards Pops, whose face is fixed into a look of polite amusement. Sawyer sips her wine in the chair next to me, her eyebrow curving up in quiet entertainment.
“Janine, we haven’t even had the turkey yet,” Dad says, his tone chastising.
“Well, there’s no sense waiting when I have everything ready to go right now,” Mom retorts.
