Page 30 of In the Dust

“It’s new. They added it last year.” He clears his throat. “It’s free, but they take donations. Everything goes to some charity.”

“It’s beautiful,” I gasp, staring out at the magnificent field. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re going to replace that old picture,” he says as he cuts off the engine.

My eyes dart back to him. I was not expecting that.

I can’t contain my excitement as I exit the SUV. I needed this after what happened last night. Just one day free from anxiety and the responsibilities of the farm. I have a feeling that’s exactly what Colton is going to give me.

We spend a few hours just walking through the field, getting lost reminiscing about silly memories from our childhood. From running naked through the fields on a dare to sneaking into R-rated movies. It seems like a lifetime ago considering everything that’s changed.

But just being near him, it’s like we’re kids again. Free of responsibilities, full of life and adventure.

“Would y’all like to have your picture taken?” the short woman asks as Colton and I step up to the booth upon exiting the field.

“Yes, ma’am,” Colton answers.

“Right this way.” The woman leads us to a white wood vintage workbench.

Colton sits down first, gesturing for me to sit next to him. He slides his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in close. I notice his usual smell of hay and leather is replaced with a heady, no doubt expensive cologne. It’s almost a fresh, woodsy scent with notes of lemon and cedar. It’s heavenly. Hell, it’s mouthwatering. Makes me want to—

“Dixie?”

“Huh?” Shit, I didn’t realize I spaced out again. I need to at least put in a little effort to not constantly swoon over this man. He just makes it so damn hard.

He sends me a curious glance. “You okay?”

Of course I’m not okay. “I’m good,” I lie.

What’s happening to me? I need to stop; I can’t turn into mush now.

“Cheese on three!” the photographer says too excitedly.

I turn to Colton, and he reveals a big cheesy grin before poking me in the side. A loud shriek escapes my lips, followed by a fit of laughter. “Smile big, Dixie May.”

I do just that as I turn my head towards the camera.

“One!”

I take a sharp breath in and hold it.

“Two!”

Focus, Dixie. Ignore the fact that his hand is now placed dangerously high on your thigh.

“Three!”

Finally.

“Cheese!” Colton and I say in unison.

The photographer tells us it will be almost an hour wait for the printed picture. We kill time by heading to the small taco truck that’s set up in the parking lot.

“Whatever you want. My treat.” He winks.

I can’t help but bite the inside of my cheek as I turn my head back to scan the small menu. “A chicken taco and two churros, please.”

“I’ll have the barbacoa de costilla and two bottles of water, please,” Colton says, finishing our order.

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