Asher hangs his helmet from his grip and turns to face me,catching me gaping at him.Perfect.
DAD
I haven’t spoken to my wife in years.
DAD
I thought it would be rude to interrupt her.
I grin down at my dad’s message; my mom hasn’t stopped talking since I arrived at my house thirty minutes ago. I look up and meet his eyes across my living room. The tuft of white hair atop his head is askew from cleaning, but he’s the picture of cool, calm, and collected. Nothing fazes my father—not my mother’s constant chattering, her harebrained ideas for the house, my teen years of princess-like behavior, any random crisis at his job before he retired from thirty years as the manager of a busy marketing firm. Nothing. He’s our family rock and the best man I’ve ever known.
“I have all I need.” I turn to meet the voice and shake the hand of Arthur, my insurance inspector. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you for coming.” I breathe out a sigh. The good news is he’s deeming the fire accidental, so everything will be covered. The bad news is the wiry little Heritage Committee member, Sheila Wilmington.
She’s already told us all about five times since she arrived that she is an expert in legacy architecture, design, restoration, and history.
“What does this all mean?” I turn to face Wayne and Asher once she leaves me with her card and heads out the door, telling me she’ll watch for my construction permit.
“It sounded expensive and time-consuming,” my mother adds, looking for direction too, tucking her blond bob behind her ear the way she does when she’s nervous. I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“In short, it will be,” my father pipes up, still calm but looking frustrated by seeing all our hard work in shambles. He busies himself pulling down what’s left of my curtains—basically the rod—then he picks up a garbage bag and starts adding food from my fridge to it, hoping to get rid of anything that will spoil. Miraculously, the only appliance I’ll need to replace is my stove.
Asher shakes Wayne’s hand as the deputy fire officer places his hat on his head and bids us goodbye. I let my eyes trail over Asher when he’s not looking as he claps Wayne on the shoulder and walks him out. The image of him looking down at me from his horse the other day, that veil of sweat covering him, powerful and commanding as he extended his heavy, scarred hand to me flashes through my head. I can’t decide if it was his touch or the way he told me what to do that I liked most. Regardless, I can’t fight the heat as it flushes my cheeks with the memory.
The buzz of my phone pulls me from my thoughts.
GINGER
All right, girls, I need a mental break from wedding planning. Liv, I’m sure you could use some girl time after the last few days too.
GINGER
Sangria?
CASSIE
I’m in. Haden is painting anyway.
Our little group used to be only myself, CeCe, and Ginger. But then Ivy moved onto the Ashby ranch and fell in love with CeCe’s oldest brother, Wade. Then, most recently, Ivy’s sister, Cassie, who just arrived home this weekend to profess her love to Wade’s right hand, Haden. Even though she was on a hot track to becoming one of country’s fastest-rising singers, she’s chosen to pursue writing music full time and she and Haden are planning on fixing up his new horse rescue ranch together.
CECE
Ugh. Sorry, guys, I’m there in spirit. I have the worst heartburn.
IVY
1/8 teaspoon of baking soda into a glass of room-temperature water. Saved my life more than once in the last trimester with Billi.
CECE
And maybe cutting back on the Mexican?
GINGER
Damn, now I feel like nachos.
IVY
