Page 45 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I grin, leaning back against the seat. “Good because this next spot has the best view on the whole farm.”

Her brow arches in curiosity, but she doesn’t press me. Maybe she’s reliving how it felt at the barn dance when I held her in my arms. She fell asleep in the truck on the way home, so I left her alone. This morning, when I woke, I was very tempted to kiss her awake, but then I heard the soft thud of the back door. And I knew my dad was already heading out to milk the cows. So, I did the gentlemanly thing and left Emily sleeping while I did the chores.

That’s one of the reasons I planned today’s little outing, I think, with an arrogant smirk.

The buggy bumps gently along the trail, the rhythm of the wheels over the dirt path mixing with the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance. The air is filled with the earthy scent of grass and wildflowers.

When we reach the old swimming hole, I pull the reins, bringing the horse and buggy to a stop. Emily looks around, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene.

A wide, clear pond shimmers in the sunlight, surrounded by tall trees whose branches sway lazily in the breeze. The ground slopes gently down to the water, covered in soft grass that looks perfect for lying on.

“This is beautiful,” she says, her voice filled with awe.

“Yes, it is,” I reply with a grin, hopping down and tying off the reins.

I grab the picnic basket from the back of the buggy and offer her my hand. She takes it, and I help her down.

We find a shady spot near the water’s edge, spreading out a blanket and unpacking the basket. The sound of the water lapping gently at the shore only adds to the peacefulness.

I watch as Emily reaches into the picnic basket, pulling out the sandwiches I made earlier. Her movements are slow and deliberate as if she’s enjoying the simplicity of a country picnic. There’s no rush here, no schedule to follow, just the two of us and the quiet hum of the countryside.

“This is nice,” she says softly, unwrapping her sandwich. “I didn’t realize how nice a picnic would be.”

I grin, leaning back on the blanket and propping myself up on one elbow. “Yeah, life’s simpler out here. No deadlines, no noise—just peace and quiet.”

She bites into her sandwich, humming in approval. “And good food.”

Exhaling, I admit ruefully, “You know there was a time when all this peace and quiet drove me crazy. I couldn’t wait to get out of here and make it big.”

Emily nods in understanding. “Sometimes we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. Just one word, but it's heavy with meaning.

Trying to lighten the mood, Emily forces a laugh. “Who would guess that Sam Ryder could make such a mean ham and cheese?” She takes another bite of her sandwich.

“Just another one of my many talents,” I say, following her lead. “My dad used to make me fix my own lunch when I was a kid. Said it’d teach me self-reliance.”

“It worked.” Emily glances at me, her smile warm. “You’re different out here. More capable, more responsible than when you’re with the band.”

Her words catch me off guard, and I shrug, trying to play it off. “There’s very little room for mistakes when working a farm.” I nod. “But you’re right. With the band, I let the other members, or Cass, take the lead.”

“Still,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “You’re responsible when you need to be. You take good care of people: your dad, the band, me.”

The way she says “me” sends a wave of longing through my chest, but I keep my expression neutral, even as my heart thuds a little harder.

Now, it’s my turn to change the subject, pulling out a container of fresh fruit. “Here. I read these were good for the mother and the baby.”

“Is this what you’ll be like once the baby’s born?” She laughs, popping one of the grapes in her mouth.

We fall into an easy rhythm, eating and talking softly to each other. The sounds of the pond and the rustling trees are the perfect backdrop. Things feel good between us—simple.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” she says, taking another bite of the sandwich I made.

“What do you mean?”

“This place,” she says, motioning to the pond. “It’s lovely. Did you come here a lot during your childhood?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, “Went skinny dipping here every chance I got.”

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