Page 71 of Catching Sparks

“I’m thanking you for far more than that.” He lifts the hand from my knee and waves it toward the tray beside him and everything littering the nightstands. “Anyone else would have left me in the stable. You took me home and haven’t left my side since.”

“Careful, you’re going to lose your big bad CEO persona with all these sweet words,” I warn lightly.

A finger settles beneath my chin and curves over the edge of my jaw, tilting my head back. His eyes are pits of glittering emeralds when they meet mine.

“With you, I’m starting to think that’s not such a bad thing.”

25

GARRISON

By Friday morning, the pain in my throat has lessened, and I can breathe through my nose again. I’m back at Steele Ranch after two days of rest, and the haze from all of the cold medication I’ve taken has worn off. I’m more lucid than I’ve been long before I got sick. Everything is clearer around me, my feelings sharper, and I’m more aware of every skip of my heartbeat and inflation of my lungs.

I’m wide awake when I never knew I had been dozing.

There’s only one woman who could be responsible for this sudden change, and I feel every flutter in my chest at the reminder of everything she did for me these past few days.

Johnny’s already waiting for me outside the guest house when I step out the door after my first day back. He unsurprisingly stuck true to his word earlier to pick me up for the reoccurring Friday night Peakside outing. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve gone, but I’m antsy tonight. More than ready to use it as an excuse to see Poppy again.

Johnny’s hair still hasn’t been cut and moves freely in the breeze beneath his chocolate-brown cowboy hat. The grin lighting his face is infectious, and I give in to its pull, offering a slight one in reply. This guy is joy personified, and it’s too tiring to continue pretending I don’t enjoy his company. Even if it annoys me most of the time.

If he wants to try pushing his light through the cracks in my storm clouds, he can have it.

“You look better,” he notes, patting the hood of my rental car. I haven’t driven it in days but still can’t bring myself to return it just yet.

“Everything worked out just the way you wanted it to, then.” I give him a look that dares him to deny he wasn’t the one to call Poppy.

“I suppose you can call me Cupid from now on.”

“Not happening.”

After taking the porch steps two at a time, I set my booted feet on the dirt for the first time. Curling and uncurling my toes inside my socks, I try to get used to the new cowboy boots. The added weight is going to take some getting used to, but they’re not too bad. Never thought I’d say that.

I remind myself that it doesn’t matter how they feel because I’m only wearing them to keep from ruining another pair of my expensive shoes in the mud.

It’s not the entire truth.

“Don’t tell me you dressed up for me, Garry,” Johnny croons, kicking up one booted foot and crossing it over his ankle as he parks his ass over the hood of the car.

“Don’t sit on the car. Didn’t any of your million sisters ever teach you any manners?”

“They sure did, but that doesn’t mean I use them all the time.”

“What a shame.”

The jeans on my hips rub at the skin above my briefs when I walk toward him. There’s a new rip over my right thigh from when I snagged them while working on a loose fence wire this morning, and I’m itching to change out of them, not wanting to be seen in public with holes in my pants. However, I didn’t have a chance to wash my laundry while I was sick, and I have nothing other than suit pants left to wear.

I’ve learned quickly that Peakside isn’t a suit type of establishment.

With the sun shining over the ranch and the pink-and-orange-painted sky cloudless, it looks more like summer than spring. My boots hit a patch of freshly sprouted green grass, and I inhale the scent of Eliza’s flowers blowing over from the main house. Even birds chirp from the clusters of trees dividing the land, their song so unfamiliar to me. I don’t remember the last time I could hear birds sing from my penthouse in Toronto.

“You could always just say, ‘I missed you, Johnny, my best friend,’” he says.

“You want me to lie?”

“We both know it wouldn’t be a lie. Now, get in the car before we’re late and everyone puts a ban on you coming next time.”

“I’m surprised there isn’t already a ban on me joining,” I admit, not moving.

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