His laughter is warm, and I love how he puts his whole self into laughing.
“That’s a weed.” His eyes practically glitter with humour, but his tone isn’t condescending. More like he’s calling me out to pick something else.
“Is it? Well, I like it. It grows where it shouldn’t and always comes back when you try to kill it. It’s fuzzy and cute, and how can you not like the colour yellow?” Nodding my head, I think I’ve convinced myself the dandelion is indeed the plant for me. “A field of yellow makes me smile, so yes, dandelion.”
“Resilient then. That’s you?”
I nod. “I think that’s me, yes. I used to pick dandelions for my mom. I thought they were pretty.” My voice grows rough, and I clear my throat. “What about you? What’s your favourite flower?”
A few moments pass, and Diamond takes a deep breath. “Roses. I’ve always loved them. They’re pretty outside with layers of petals so intricate to make a single, soft bloom, but have nasty thorns for protection. They can be particular about the soil sometimes, but the right gardener knows how to tend them for optimal blooms. Roses can be so many colours and sizes, and in the perfect conditions, they’re so stunning and fragrant. I love them.”
When I meet Diamond’s gaze, whether he actually likes roses doesn’t matter. Like he summed up my dandelion, he’s handing me a little of himself in the metaphor of a rose, and I think it’s perfect for what I know of him so far. What he’s shared with me today is just a glimpse into this complex man. Rather than wanting to run, I thirst for more.
Tater chooses that moment to run up to us, soaking wet from splashing in the cold creek. She shakes as we try to cover ourselves, laughing at her antics. She spins out on the blanket, almost upsetting the fruit dish, and I curse under my breath.
“Tell me about how you rescued her,” Diamond asks as he sits up. He watches Tater running around the field like a loon, and I can’t help but smile as I remember how I found her.
“I was out for a drive on a road I should never have been on. Just trying to clear my head one night, and I drove by a box onthe side of the road. I didn’t think much about it, but after a few minutes I just thought…why is there a single box out here like that?” Diamond’s lips part as he puts the story together before I can finish it. “I turned around just because my gut said I should. Something told me to go back to that box because it just might be what I needed. I pulled over and walked up to the box and opened the lid. There she was. Barely eight weeks old and so underweight she was days away from dying.” Diamond swipes at his eyes, and I nod. “She was a puppy dump, and at the time I didn’t know how I’d raise a puppy, but I knew I couldn’t leave her there.”
I drove so fast to the vet, I nearly got pulled over that night, and it didn’t look good. He told me to keep her warm and feed her with a bottle or syringe until she perked up. He gave me cans of formula and food, syringes, heating pads…you name it. He even put some fluids under her skin while I held her, and she barely made a peep.
By the next morning, she’d peed on my shirt. By the evening she was walking. It was wobbly and weak, but she did her business. She slept on my chest every night for five days, and on the sixth day, she woke me up with a bark.
“You really did rescue her then. Sounds like in the nick of time, too.”
“I think she rescued me, too.”
The admission slips out, and I want to say more. About broken hearts and losing my grandpa and all sorts of other things, but I don’t because I’m not feeling that brave yet.
Diamond squeezes my hand, and I chance a look at his beautiful face. He understands and, rather than keep talking about it, he lets me have a moment to myself.
His hand never leaves mine though, and it’s more than a gesture of comfort. It’s the touch of another man who has made it blatantly obvious that he’s attracted to me.
The proverbial ball is in my court.
A roll of distant thunder draws our attention to the distance. A darkening sky looms, and Diamond leaps into action.
“We should get back so we don’t get caught in the rain.”
Together we pack up the containers and blankets, and I watch as he swings himself up into the saddle like he was born to ride. Denim stretched over an ass I definitely want on my face.
Well…
I guess I’m about to play ball after all…or with balls.
Or…whatever. I need to stop with the sports thinking.
“You coming, cowboy? Or are you just gonna stand and stare after me like I don’t know you’re thinking of my ass and getting me naked?”
A huff of disbelief escapes as I move towards Wilbur.
“Are you always so forward?”
He laughs. “You didn’t deny it.” He clicks his tongue and moves his horse along. “And the answer is yes. Life is too short not to go after what you want. Be direct, because you don’t know how much time you have left.”
It’s those words I keep hearing as we ride back.
And he’s right.
