Twenty years was a long time to be without the companionship of a woman. I thought I didn’t need it. I thought it wasn’t possible to have a goddamn crush at my age.

But I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have Birdie on my arm.

Chapter 4

Birdie

Idid my best to quell my disappointment when Grady didn’t call, even after two days had passed. He was a busy man, I reasoned. He had things to do, a ranch to run, a festival to plan in less than a week, and his daughter was visiting from college for only a few days. He probably didn’t have time to call.

On the other hand, a little voice nagged at the back of my mind

Had I been too forward? Maybe I’d misinterpreted things between us.

I closed my eyes with a groan and rubbed my forehead. God, I really hope I wasn’t getting tangled up in unrequited love, especially at my age. I didn’t need to pine after a man who didn’t want me in return. That would be…utterly mortifying.

With the Harvest Festival approaching so fast, I didn’t have the luxury to hide away and nurse my wounded pride over Grady’s silence. I’d been hired to provide floral arrangements, and I would do my job as promised. Whether my complicated feelings for Grady were involved or not.

So, on Wednesday morning, I headed out to the ranch again. This time, I had an entire caravan to accompany me, which meant there would be no chance of getting Grady alone. I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

When I arrived, there was a flurry of activity by the corral. Cowboys on horseback herded cattle in a haze of dust that lingered in the air. I recognized a few of the ranch hands from around town—Cody, who had bashfully visited the shop last month, blushing red to the tips of his ears as he requested flowers for the girl he was sweet on; Beau, the ladies’ man who finally settled down; and Bowen, who never failed to tip his hat with a politely mumbled, good afternoon, ma’am, when we crossed paths.

Then my gaze settled on the broad-shouldered figure barking orders. Despite the restless horse pacing back and forth beneath him, Grady sat easily in the saddle, overseeing the whole thing. The way he moved—confident, bold, powerful—was pleasing to watch.

“Birdie!”

I wrenched my attention away from Grady. Avery emerged from the barn, raising her arm overhead in a big, friendly wave. Her dark curls were tightly braided back, tucked under her Stetson, and her boots were coated with dust.

Behind me, the caravan rolled to a stop—six vehicles in all, carrying decorations, chairs, tables, tents, and sound equipment for the live bands that would be performing.

“I didn’t warn Dad that it’s set-up day,” Avery said as she approached. “He would find every excuse in the book to disappear if I breathed a word of it.”

“It looks like you have your hands full though,” I replied, nodding toward the corral. “Is this a bad time?”

Avery brushed off my concern, shaking her head.

“Not at all. Just a routine check-up with the vet. They’re almost done anyway. Then the cattle will be put out to pasture. I already told Bowen to spare a few ranch hands for the festival crew. We’ll need all the manpower we can get.”

Movement drew my attention back to the corral. Grady had pulled his horse to a stop, watching us with his mouth set in a firm line. Avery propped her hands on her hips.

“Here we go,” she said. “He’s gearing up to protest our nonsense. Stand your ground, Birdie.”

My heartbeat stuttered at the realization that I was about to come face to face with Grady again. I still remembered the solid expanse of his chest beneath my palm when I dared to slide my phone number into his pocket. I wanted to be frustrated with him because he hadn’t called for two whole days, but the physical reaction to his presence won out in the end.

Focus, focus, focus.

Grady nudged his horse into an easy gait, making his way toward us. I could have blamed my too-warm cheeks on the bright sun. Or the biting wind that nipped at my skin with the promise of colder temperatures in the coming weeks. Deep down though, I knew the reason why I blushed like a schoolgirl and it was entirely Grady’s fault for looking so damn handsome.

“Good morning, Mr. McCall,” I said when he was within hearing range.

“Birdie,” he replied with a nod. “Who the hell are these people?”

He lifted his chin in the direction of the caravan where volunteers scurried around, unloading equipment.

“This is the Harvest Festival Planning Committee,” Avery put in. “You would know that if you weren’t such a grouchy old hermit and actually participated in town events once in a while.”

I coughed a laugh behind my hand and quickly fixed a neutral expression on my face.

“They’re making sure everything is ready for this weekend,” I said.