She waves her hand dramatically. “Yep. Dirt-covered little monsters, running around barefoot.”
I can practically see it.
“A house on a couple of acres. But not too big.”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want us to be right on top of each other, but I want it cozy enough that we can’t hide away from each other either.” Her eyes drift toward the ceiling again. “I want us to sit down at a table every evening for dinner.”
“Yeah?”
She nods.
“Then sit on the front porch, looking up at the stars at night.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Watch the kids playing in the yard.”
What she’s describing sounds an awful lot like the life I grew up in here at Wildhaven Storm Ranch. Family dinners. Nights on the porch. Kids running wild, free, and not scared of anything.
I look over at her.
And suddenly, the idea of Jovie living in a sleek city apartment seems silly. Like trying to fit a handful of freshly picked wildflowers into a crystal vase.
Pretty. But out of place.
“Then why do you want the job with Dr. Chaz?” I ask. “A different city every night. Never staying in one place for long. Only rubbing elbows with busted-up cowboys with commitment issues.”
Her eyes find mine. “Well”—she shrugs—“just because I want the white picket fence doesn’t mean I need it tomorrow.”
Fair point.
She takes another sip.
“It’ll give me a chance to travel. See new places.” Her smile widens. “On the PBR’s dime.”
I chuckle.
Smart.
“And I can save my pennies so I can afford to open my own practice here in Wildhaven someday. Then I can help my future non-busted cowboy husband afford that fence I want.”
I grin. “I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll appreciate that.”
She nudges my shoulder. “So, what’s your plan?”
“My plan?” I grin. “To become rich and famous.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I mean, after that. What does Axle Trust’s future look like? Once you’ve collected all the buckles you can fit in your sock drawer and broken every bone you have left.”
I stare at the ceiling and think about it for a moment. I try to imagine it, but the picture that pops into my head is Joviesitting on a front porch swing, her hair piled on top of her head, watching a pack of blond-haired babies running wild.
“Add a few more acres and a big-ass barn, and it’s more or less the same as you.”
She turns toward me. “Really?”
“Really.”
The smile that appears on her face causes something to twist inside my chest.
Then I point a finger at her. “Except there’s no fucking way my woman is putting up a sissy-ass white picket fence.”
