“They’re just in bachelorette mode.” He shrugged off the information and started off toward the barn, Alpine trailing a foot behind.
Bluebell perked up and walked alongside them on a loose rein with Nana Jo sitting relaxed on her back.
“Not your type?” his grandma asked. “There are a few cute blondes in the group.”
Spencer never would have really said he had a type, but now, thinking about the kind of woman he would like to date, all he could conjure up was an image of Trinity.
He shook his head. “Not my type.”
“Whatisyour type then? You know, some say I’m pretty good at matchmaking.”
He aimed a look over at his grandma. “Some say that, huh?”
“Lance and Sarah might say that. Along with others.”
“I don’t need any matchmaking. I’m good.”
“You’re happy being alone, then?”
He didn’t feel alone. He had friends, animals. Plenty to keep him busy at the ranch. But when he stepped into his unfinished house, his footsteps echoing in the large, empty spaces, he had to admit that he did feel a little alone.
“Of course, I’d like to share my life with someone. But I haven’t found her yet.”
“You sure about that?” was all Nana Jo said before squeezing her heels and clucking her tongue, spurring Bluebell into a trot that took the two far away from Alpine and Spencer, leaving them in a cloud of confusion, contemplation, and maybe even a little glimmer of hope.
CHAPTER 16
The days rolled into each other, one after the other.
The fall festival was fast approaching, and with it came the turkey costume that nearly cost Trinity her sanity. Despite being told that all of the other kids would have sandwich board style costumes made from paint and cardboard, in the eleventh hour, it was revealed to Trinity that no, that’snotwhat Mia had said. Everyone was wearing fabric costumes now, and Mia would look ridiculous if she showed up in the costume Trinity had already spent an unreasonable amount of time constructing and painting.
So, the night before the festival, Trinity made the executive decision to call in the experts. With an armload of fabrics, ribbons, and feathers, Trinity showed up on the doorstep of the ranch house with a smile and an apology at the ready.
But Nana Jo just ushered her inside and into the kitchen where she already had her Singer sewing machine set up, along with a kettle of cider warming on the stove.
“I’m so sorry to drag you into this project at this hour,” Trinity said as she unloaded all of her supplies. “I owe you big time.”
“Don’t owe me a thing.”
Mia was in the barn with Spencer, and Trinity had left Liam with her parents. She would have left her daughter, too, but knew she would be needed for measurements and fittings. Plus, Mia had no issue with tagging along to the ranch. Over the last week, it had practically become her second home as she continued lessons with Bluebell and learned the ins and outs of horse care.
One night, as Trinity was tucking her young daughter into bed, Mia had confessed that Brynne had a new best friend and wanted her necklace back. Trinity hated the pettiness that started so young, her heart squeezing for her daughter and the ridiculous kindergarten drama she’d been pulled into. But as soon as she said it, Mia had followed up with, “Doesn’t matter. Bluebell’s my best friend, anyway.”
Trinity had wondered how healthy that was—for her daughter to consider an animal her friend. She’d consulted with a local children’s psychologist who actually reassured her that horses were the perfect animals for this sort of therapy and that there truly was a connection between a horse and its person. She had even suggested that Liam begin spending time with the animals. That it might help with some of the acting out he’d been doing recently.
Nana Jo had also been a huge reassurance in this area. Said there was nothing more grounding, therapeutic, and comforting than a horse. Trinity had yet to experience that, but she didn’t doubt it to be true.
As the two women worked on the turkey costume that night, Trinity could see the barn out the front window, the lights on in the big center aisle where Spencer and Mia were busy picking Bluebell’s hooves. The horse had become a pampered princess. Her hair was plaited in the thickest braids tied with little white bows at the ends. And goodness, how her coat was shiny. Was it possible to brush a horse too much? Trinity figured Spencerwould tell Mia if it became a problem. But all the girl wanted to do was love on that horse, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual. Bluebell was always so happy to see her, bending her long neck to press her muzzle to Mia’s cheek in what Trinity could only figure was a horse’s way of kissing. It was the most precious sight.
Two hours later, Trinity and Josephine had put the final touches on the costume. It was amazing, so much better than a cardboard version. Trinity wondered how many costumes Nana Jo had made over the years for sons and daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren. And now the poor woman was asked to continue sharing her talent with children that had absolutely no relation to her. Trinity figured she would never complain, but she was still well aware that it was a big ask.
“Can I pay you?” she offered as Josephine clipped the last loose thread with a pair of scissors and pulled her reading glasses from her nose.
“Absolutely not. Your money is no good here.”
She’d heard that before, but from a different person here at the ranch. Mia had taken several lessons at this point, but Spencer had yet to accept any form of payment for them. There was always an excuse. Bluebell was really dirty—heshould be payingthemfor all the help in cleaning her up. The lesson hadn’t gone the full hour—he would have to figure out the prorated amount later and get back to her (he never did). Mia had just gotten her first progress report (all A’s)—the lesson was Spencer’s treat.
Trinity was, of course, thankful for his generosity. But she hated feeling like a charity case. Yes, things were tight, but she could pay her own way.
