Page 20 of Pure Bred

Sierra: God, I miss you.

Me: I miss you too. You have no idea how much.

Sierra: Pretttty sure I do know.

Me: Are you alone right now?

Sierra: Why do you ask, Magnuson?

Me: Because I want to tell you just how fucking perfect your thighs are, among other things, but I don’t want to get you hot and bothered if it’s inappropriate timing.

Sierra: Mmm. I see. Well, I’m very alone right now…and I’m lying in bed…

Me: That’s it. I’m calling you.

Me: So, have you given any more thought to my brilliant plan? You know, the one where you move back here and we have those three kids?

Sierra: Oh, absolutely. I’ve already picked out names. How do you feel about Rusty, Bessie, and Buck?

Me: Perfect. I’ll start building the treehouse tomorrow. Think we can potty train them before they’re two?

Sierra: Piece of cake. They’ll be riding horses by then, too.

Me: Naturally. And I assume you’ll be teaching them how to muck out the stalls?

Sierra: Of course. It’s an essential life skill.

Me: You’re perfect, you know that?

Sierra: Nah, you’re the perfect one.

Me: On a more serious note…I’ve been looking at flights to LA. Any chance you’ll have a few days free next month?

Sierra: I wish. My schedule’s insane right now. Album promo, photo shoots, talk shows...it’s non-stop.

Me: Damn. What about the month after?

Sierra: Let me check...ugh, I’m booked solid then too. This is so frustrating.

Me: There’s gotta be a way we can make this work.

Sierra: Wait, what about the week of the 15th? I have a three-day break between tour rehearsals.

Me: Absolutely. I’ll book my tickets right now.

Sierra: Are you sure you can get away from the ranch?

Me: For you? I’ll make anything work.

8

SIERRA

Iscan the crowd streaming out of LAX, nerves and excitement swirling inside me.Where is he?The tinted windows of the SUV shield me from prying eyes, but I still feel exposed. I drum my fingers on my knees, impatient.

Then I spot him. Seeing him, my heart hiccups. Logan looks a bit lost, his rugged appearance out of place among the rest of the crowd. His eyes search his surroundings as he looks for me.

“There,” I point, leaning forward. “The guy in the flannel shirt.”

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