Page 52 of A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy

“I’ve forgotten that. Poof. The memory vaporized.”

Her huff sounded amused. Pretty sure.

“I’d kind of like to move forward from here, but I’m not sure what you’re thinking.”

“Weston, why? What changed?”

He pried her hand loose and wove his fingers with hers. “God’s been working on me.”

She pulled, but he didn’t let go.

“I absolutely did not mean that it took an act of God for me to see how you really are.”

“That’s what I heard.”

Had that been a whimper or a snicker? He wasn’t sure, and shadows had lengthened enough now that he couldn’t read her face clearly. “Paisley, what I’m trying to say — and failing at — is that you’ve been digging at my grouchiness, but so has God. Call it teamwork, okay? And while I’m never gonna be a bubbly, life-of-the-party, smooth talker?—”

“Bryce Sullivan.”

“—yeah, like Bryce. Totally not me in any way, shape, or form. But that doesn’t mean I should be content to stay a grumpy loner. God has been working on my attitude, for sure, but is it okay to say that it’s because of you that I responded to those jabs?”

“Because of me?”

“You.” He hesitated. “And I was thinking you saw something in me when I wasn’t such a nice guy.”

“You’re a nice guy now? What, since yesterday?”

“Ouch.” But he deserved that dig. “I’m a work in progress. Trust me, I’m aware.”

This day had not gone anything like what Paisley had expected, at least, not since they’d returned to the ranch. Weston, apologizing? Weston, kissing her and asking for more? All that would be worth a song and dance if it weren’t for the situation back in Phoenix.

But now… didn’t she need to go see her mother? Didn’t she need to interact with her sisters? She didn’t want to. She wished Kait had never texted her. Wished she wasn’t so torn between entering a hostile situation and ignoring it entirely, snuggled into Weston’s arms and enjoying the moment.

A moment that could endure, could become something real, if only she didn’t need to leave. It would take some doing to rediscover the carefree, outgoing Paisley everyone around Sweet River knew.

That was not the person Amelia and Kait and Mom knew. Back there — back then — she’d been the baby of the family, tiptoeing around and afraid to rock the boat. When she’d sassed her mother, Mom had gotten stoned. When she’d asked about her father, Mom had gotten high. It didn’t seem to matter what Paisley said or did, Mom’s reaction was booze or drugs or both.

No wonder Paisley had escaped as soon as she could.

No wonder she didn’t want to return.

But her mother was still her mother. Right?

“Paisley?”

Weston sounded less sure of himself now than last time he’d said her name. She’d been so wrapped up in this whole thing that she was ignoring the best thing that had happened to her since Jesus Christ had walked into her life on a Colorado ski slope years ago now.

She’d thought God had answered her prayers to save her mother.

Mom had been dry for three years. And now she might be dying.

Paisley shook herself. “I like you, Weston. I do. It’s just maybe not a good time for me to get involved with anyone. I… I need to go. I’ll talk to Mr. Sullivan in the morning. Get Cindy up to speed on what’s planned for the next week or two.”

Or the summer. But she’d be back, right? She’d been working on the Fourth of July celebrations for Sweet River. Last summer they’d started too late for a party worthy of Sullivan Enterprises, so she’d been planning this summer’s event all year, lining up music and a comedian and a clown act for the kids, hiring a fireworks expert. The resort was nearly fully booked for the weekend in anticipation.

Three weeks to go.

“I see.” Weston dropped her hand and crossed his arms over his chest.

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