And when the two of us collide in a dark barn that smells like hay and whiskey and moonlight, it’s the one right thing I’ve ever done in my life. And everything from now until forever makes sense.
Sigh. Me and my fantasies.
He could be a county lawyer just like me. He could own a grocery store. He could be a mail carrier.
I’m jolted from my fantasy when my sisters start yammering about the challenges of renovation, the craziness of running a family resort, and the short-sightedness of selling the property tomorrow.
I try to tune them out and lose myself in the fantasy of a cowboy in bed. I imagine his commanding presence, my fingers digging into his muscular back, and I feel a twinge between my legs that I haven’t felt in a long, long time.
Maybe the one thing I need in my life is a cowboy.
“I think the smartest thing to do is fix it up and then sell. Turning it into a bed-and-breakfast or a ranch camp or whatever Dylan envisions seems cool, but we’d need to run the numbers. Maybe run them for all the possibilities and see where we are. Then we can talk about what to do.” I look at Hazel, whose eyes dance at the opportunity to calculate potential gains and losses in a variety of scenarios.
“Done,” Hazel says. “Give me a week, and I’ll pull something together based on market conditions, family ranches, inns, all the potential scenarios.”
“Great. And I know you kind of want it off our plates, let’s at least consider the idea of keeping it in the family if we can afford it. Can you run those numbers, too, Haze?”
“Sure. I’ll make a spreadsheet.” Hazel is downright delighted.
“I really hope you meet a man someday who understands that spreadsheets are your love language,” Dylan says. “Mine is wine.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Hannah says, stabbing at the last bite of steak on her plate and closing her eyes as she chews.
“I say we keep it. Vacation here. Wouldn’t it be nice to drive a couple of hours to a lovely ranch, go for a bike ride throughthe rolling hills, and hole up by the fireplace in winter weather? Come on, for the sentimental value alone, we should at least consider it.” Callie inhales a deep breath as though she can smell the burning wood.
My sisters chime in all at once, Hannah asking why she has such an attachment to a place she barely visited as a kid, Hazel yapping about financial literacy, and Dylan jumping in again with her family ranch idea.
Somewhere in the mix, a slice of cake with a single candle is brought out, and my sisters start singing. My face flushes at the attention, and I slink lower in my chair as the eyes of half the room are on me. I quickly blow out the candle and fan away the smoke, shoving the slice of cake to the middle of the table, where everyone digs in.
The bill comes a minute later, and they continue squabbling over that. “You had three drinks, and you’re the only one who ordered an appetizer.” Dylan points at Callie, who shrugs.
“I paid last time,” Hannah reminds everyone.
“Yes, but that was at a taco stand,” Hazel says.
“You guys, people are waiting for this table.” I gesture toward two couples standing by the door, and for once, I sit back, letting them come up with a solution on their own. Eyeing the cowboy, I consider how one night with a guy that rugged would feel, awareness unfurling at my core. I find him staring straight back, one eyebrow raised in a smirk.
After everyone throws down crumpled bills, I usher them outside to catch a ride back to the hotel. They can argue all they want in the car. They probably won’t even notice if I’m not there.
My sisters have put me in a mood, somewhere between daring and reckless. I go back inside without a plan, heading straight for the bathroom, planning to toss the tiara and fix my hair.
“You didn’t make a wish, honey.”
The deep, gruff voice behind me leaves goose bumps on my skin. Just enough rasp to be sexy, just enough depth to warm the back of my neck. Just enough volume to be commanding without sounding arrogant.
Well, maybe a little arrogant.
I turn to find the cowboy leaning against the wall outside the bathroom with his arms crossed. He’s in my space, but it feels intimate, not intimidating. His shoulders look even broader up close, and he’s easily a foot taller than me. Brooding. Intense. Almost too good looking, if that’s even a thing. My lips go dry.
I want to roll my eyes at the cliché of him, looking like he could melt all the snow from the Arctic Circle with the sound of his voice.
I also want to lick the side of his neck and see how it tastes. I’m betting on delectably sweet with a side of sexy, hard-earned sweat.
His bold stare makes me wonder if he’s waiting for me to say something.
“Um…what?” My stammer should break the seal on this fantasy. I expect him to move right through me to someplace better, someplace where cowboys belong.
“You blew out your birthday candle, but you didn’t make a wish.” There’s a syrupy lilt to his voice like he has all the time in the world. I look him over from head to toe. Cowboy boots, dark jeans, but he left the hat at the bar.