He gives me a warning look. “Shh.”
My eyes sting anyway. “You jerk. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because,” he says patiently, “I have to wait until Christmas.”
“Why Christmas?”
He grins. “Because Bryce is asking Charli tonight.”
My jaw drops. “Tonight?”
Waylon nods. “It’s his big day. He thought it’d be perfect timing. And I figured I shouldn’t upstage him.”
My heart swells so big that it almost hurts.
Behind us, Barron and Holland have already drifted into a conversation about horse racing.
Barron looks fascinated. “You invested in a thoroughbred recently?”
Holland nods proudly. “Secretariat’s bloodline.”
Holland launches into an enthusiastic explanation about lineage and training prospects.
“And mark my words,” he finishes, “that horse is taking the Triple Crown next year.”
Barron laughs. “That’s a bold prediction.”
Waylon glances down at Ruby. “What do you say we go find Shelby?”
Ruby nods enthusiastically. “And cookies.”
“You just had a snow cone,” I say.
Waylon laughs and carries her off toward the vendor tents.
Barron and Holland wander toward the stables, still deep in horse talk, and Priscilla and Della trail behind them.
And just like that …
It’s quiet.
I turn slowly.
Porter is still standing there.
Covered in blue snow cone.
“Well,” he says, “that escalated quickly.”
I cross my arms. “You were about to kiss me in front of your father. I had to do something.”
He snorts. “Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand.
Before I can protest, he leads me around the side of the ranch house.
The noise fades the farther we walk.
The back porch is shaded and quiet.
