Page 107 of His Eighth Ride

Opal shifted and lay down, putting her head in his lap and continuing to look outside. “Okay,” she said. “I’m getting better. Molly even says so.”

“I’m sure.” He stroked her hair and thought of the first time she’d made it into the saddle during her first riding lesson, a couple of weeks ago. She went to her cousin’s farm a few times a week for the lessons—and so they could go over wedding plans.

Tag’s impatience reared, but he tamped it right back down. He and Opal were getting married at the beginning of November, because she wanted to be in this house together, with him, for the holidays. He wanted that desperately too.

“What’s wrong, honeybear?”

“Just feeling like things are moving so slowly.”

“The countertops are only a week behind,” he said, stroking her hair.

“Let’s just get married tonight,” she said.

He didn’t chuckle, though he knew Opal was kidding. “I would, honey, but I’ve got that leatherworking class tonight.”

She giggled for a moment, then fell back to silence.

“Jane’s gonna have her baby in a few weeks.”

“Yes,” Opal said. “I can’t wait.”

“Have you heard on a name?”

“They’re keeping it under wraps.”

“Even from you?”

“Even from me.”

Tag ran his fingers through her hair again. “Do you want me to get dinner?”

“Yes,” she said. “Can we look at the stars tonight?”

Now that the thick of summer had arrived, the sun didn’t set until quite late, and if Tag stayed up until it was truly dark enough to see the stars, it would be way past his bedtime. He’d be tired in the morning and all day long. But he said, “Sure thing, honeybear.”

She sighed as she sat up, and Tag said, “That’s a big sigh.”

She gave him a weary smile. “I’m just tired from chasing West. He should be here soon, because he got a new trike, and we rode it here this morning, and he wants to do it again.”

“So you’ll be chipper for Westy, but not for me.” Tag grinned at her. “I see how it is.”

She slid into his side again. “Not at all, baby. I’m chipper for you.” She touched her lips to his. “This is just one of many Opal-facets.”

He breathed in the fruity scent of her hair. “I know you want this house done. It’ll probably only be another two weeks. Four, tops. Way before we get married.”

“You still want to marry me, even if you find me staring at nothing when you get home from work?”

“Opal-honey,” he murmured. “I want to marry you because I find you staring at nothing when I get home from work.”

“I have two wedding things for you tonight,” she said as she sat up and pushed herself to the edge of the blow-up couch. “Are you game?”

“If I can get two things from you tonight,” he teased.

Opal got to her feet and turned back to him. “Mister Crow, whatever do you mean?”

He grinned at her and draped his arm along the back of the couch. “They’re surprises.”

“So I have to agree before knowing what they are?”

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