The soft, sweet smile that comes to her face right then has me feeling way too fucking happy that I put it there.
Chapter 11
Princess
SADIE
This might just be the best summer I’ve ever had.
The days at Wild Rose have a rhythm to them I didn't know I was missing. Easy mornings with Jonah over breakfast, long afternoons exploring the property or working on reading under the cottonwood tree by the creek. Warm evenings and home-cooked dinners at the table, like we’re a little family.
I’ve never had that before. Didn’t know how much I was craving it, either. I grew up eating peanut butter sandwiches for dinner off of a TV tray while Momma watched her shows. Or, if she was at work, I just ate alone.
Everything about living at Wild Rose makes my old life in that double-wide trailer feel like it belonged to someone else entirely.
Jonah is an awesome kid, and I can’t believe I’m getting paid to hang out with him. Work doesn’t feel like work when you're finger-painting and building blanketforts. And I love teaching, love helping this little boy discover that the squiggles on a page are words that turn into dragons and spaceships and far-away places.
And then there's Walker.
Walker, who I’m pretty sure I almost kissed the other day. Or who almost kissed me. Who can be sure?
I catch him watching me sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking, from across the dinner table, or from the porch while Jonah and I play in the yard.
He comes in at the end of a long day with dust on his jeans and his hat pushed back, looking like the cowboy fantasy I never knew I had. He takes the cold beer I hand him with a surprised thanks every time.
For someone who spent years living in the lap of luxury in Nashville, he sure doesn’t seem used to being looked after.
After dinner, once Jonah's been excused to go play, Walker will pour us both another glass of wine and we sit there in the long golden evening, talking about whatever's on our minds. What’s happened that day at Wild Rose, or the books we’re reading, or something Jonah said that made us both laugh.
And then I'll realize an hour has passed and neither of us has moved except to lean closer across the table to each other.
Once he told me about the summer he taught himself to play guitar and I told him about the first book that made me cry and neither of us noticed it had gotten dark until the fireflies came out.
He’s coming home earlier and earlier each day, I notice.
It’s only three o’clock on this hot summer afternoon and he’s already back, pulling up the road in the vintage Ford F-250 he likes to take instead of the Sierra, when he doesn’t have Jonah’s booster seat to contend with. I’m barefoot in the grass, pinning my sundress to the clothesline, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while humming to myself.
I don’t even realize it at first, but it’s one of Walker’s songs that I’m humming.
I stop when I notice.
His voice has been living in my head rent-free for a decade and apparently nothing has changed.
Then I stand there for a second, annoyed at myself, before going back to the laundry.
Right before he comes around the corner of the house with that furrow already forming between his brows, mouth opening to tell me I'm doing too much again.
But then he halts.
His eyes catch on the row of dresses swaying in the breeze, all those soft colors against the blue sky with the mountains in the distance.
I reach up to pin the yellow sundress and the wind takes the line again, swinging it out of reach. I make a frustrated sound and step back.
Directly into his chest.
He steps in behind me, reaching past my shoulder to catch the line and hold it taut. His body presses against my back. His arm brackets mine as he holds the line steady for me.
“You gonna pin your dress yet, copperhead?” he murmurs. “Or make me wait all day for you?”
