Page 61 of His Eighth Ride

Steele’s face colored, and he dropped his attention back to his device again. “Thank you, Tag,” he murmured.

“If I knew any women, I’d set you up.” Tag looked at his notebook and started writing. Hailed today, and it scared the horses—and me. Been a while since I’ve been caught in a hailstorm. So loud on the roof.

Opal called, scared and pulled over on the side of the road. I know I shouldn’t be glad about that, but it was nice to see her be less-than-perfect.

We talked about Valentine’s Day, and I’m so nervous about our date. She’ll be gone tonight, so I’m going to watch those dancing tutorials again.

Satisfied with his thoughts, he flipped the notebook closed and replaced the pen in the coils. Back it went into his pocket, and he got to his feet. “I think it’s just rain now.”

“I’ll come do the evening feeding tonight,” Steele said.

“I can help too,” Tag said. “Opal’s off the farm.”

“Take the night to yourself then,” Steele said. “If I need help, I’ll text you.”

Tag wasn’t going to argue with that, so he simply nodded. They went out the front door of the barn, because the back one couldn’t be locked from the outside. That meant Tag had to walk around the barn in the rain. It wasn’t exactly pouring, and the drops felt thicker than regular water as they landed on the brim of his hat, his shoulders, and his boots.

“Slush,” Steele said with disgust. “There’s slush falling from the sky.”

“Gonna be snow soon enough,” Tag said. “I’ll text Gerty with where we are when I get to my cabin. Do you want to come over for dinner? Pizza night.”

“Sure,” Steele said.

“Max, go to the farmhouse,” Tag said. The shepherd looked at him, and Tag nodded over to the house. “Go on. They’ll let you in.”

Max whined and barked, but he ran toward the kitchen entrance on the side of the house. He barked and barked, and he’d definitely get let in that way.

Tag walked with Steele and Boots back to his cabin in silence, and as Tag went up his steps, Steele finally added, “See you in an hour.”

“Yep.” Tag followed Boots into his cabin and closed the door against the weather behind him. He sighed in the silence of his house, in the way he felt so safe here, in how different his life here was from other places he’d been.

“Dear Jesus,” he whispered into the silence. “I don’t know why it makes me nervous to have Opal build a house here. But I want her to be happy, so please, bless her that her path toward this house will be open and clear.”

His furnace blew, and Tag found he didn’t need to ask God for more. So he shed his jacket in the kitchen and hung it by the back door to dry. Then he went down the hall to shower away the cold, the noise, the worry, believing that no matter what came next, he had God on his side, and he’d be able to cope.

“With God…and Opal?” he murmured to himself, and that alone told him how intertwined he’d allowed his life to become with hers. How much he wanted his life to be intertwined with hers. And how much rode on the upcoming Valentine’s Day dinner and the building of Opal’s house.

nineteen

Opal arrived back at the farmhouse thirty minutes later than she’d anticipated. “Come on, baby,” she said to West in the back seat. He couldn’t unbuckle himself, though, and Opal had to duck back there and get him out of his seat. She usually let him toddle his way toward the front door at his own pace, but today, she grabbed his diaper bag and him and hurried to the house.

“Auntie Opal needs to get ready,” she said as she kicked the door closed behind her and dropped his bag.

“Ope, Ope,” he sang merrily. Her heart turned to melted butter every time he said her name, and she took him down the hall to her bedroom.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, bud, and I have a special date with Tag.” She smiled at him as she set him on the floor. She hadn’t been out painting a house or working out, though one might consider attending a toddler event at the library on Valentine’s Day quite the workout. She didn’t need to shower. She simply needed to get her hair up, her makeup on, and her dress donned.

She started with her hair as West sang to himself.

“I’m here,” Gerty called, and Opal jumped to her feet. Two steps from her dressing table, she opened the door.

“Momma’s home,” she told West. “Go find her, Westy.”

“Mama!” The little boy clambered to his feet and went running past Opal and into the hallway. She left her door open and listened to their reunion, West babbling away in a language only he understood and Gerty acting like she knew what he’d said.

Opal finished her hair and continued with her makeup. She already had dark features, so she didn’t do much to enhance them. She did put on her deep, dark red lipstick, and then she stuck her head out into the hall. “Gerty,” she called. “Can you help with my dress?”

“Coming,” Gerty called, and her footsteps came quickly.

---