Page 36 of Buried Roots

“Girl.”

“Okay, there was touching. In the moonlight. We went skinny dipping.”

“Stop it!” She fans herself. “Now, I’m straight up jealous. You’re about to have a steaming hot love affair. I mean really, Willow. How are you screwed? I mean, besides the obvious?”

“True.” I wave a hand, as if that will help me inhale. It doesn’t. “This is good. It’s really good. It won’t hurt so bad when I leave because I know it’s coming. Right?”

“There we go.” Natanya does a little dance. “Just shake off those nerves, baby. This man has gotta be better than Joy.” Joy is my electronic partner, if you will.

“Hey, don’t knock Joy. You may be my right-hand woman, but she’s my left.” I bark out a laugh.

Natanya sharply perks an eyebrow. “That’s just nasty.”

“Miss you, too, Nat.”

Her face puckers as she looks behind me. “I sincerely hope that’s not your hot country man.”

I flip my head to see the baby goat eating my ice cream. “Sir Fig A Lot, no! Ugh, he got out again.” I really need to fix that fence, but at least I got him a collar and tag from MoonMart. After groaning, I say, “No, this is just my delinquent kid.”

“Haha. Hilarious,” she deadpans, then waves. “Hi, Mr. Goat.”

After Sir Fig A Lot is done studying her, I say, “Anyway, since Owen doesn’t start work at the veterinary hospital for another three and a half weeks, he’s offered to help me with the restoration. It’ll be great to have a free pair of hands.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I pluck a blade of grass. “I still need to find contractors here—I’m contacting companies now.”

“Go, Willow—do your thing. And the wild thing. Wear a condom.” She signs off.

When I look out to the pasture, Oreo is out, all by himself. “What?” I jump up. “How is he out?” Worse, for how long? It’s over ninety-degrees outside, and he could be over-heated. He’s just a baby! I sprint over to him, and he looks tired and thirsty. “Ohhh, sweetie.” I look to see the stable door cracked open, which means he must’ve slipped out, then not been able to get back in. When I let him inside, he rushes to the trough and gulps water, and I’m writhing in guilt.

I walk to his stall to see that was left open too, but Eclipse stayed inside. My brain spins as I try to think of how this happened. I put all the horses back in their stalls and shut the stable door. I swear I did. Didn’t I?

But I was distracted—I had so much to do today with the house’s punch list. Maybe in my rush, I didn’t close the doors tightly, and they drifted back open? I return to Oreo, who looks much better after some water, thank god.

A tremble racks my body. I lucked outthistime. I take breaths, in and out, as I fight to get my nerves under control.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me, but if I don’t get it together, someone is going to get hurt.

After driving to the neighboring town of Blue Vine, I walk into a barn adorned with twinkle lights, candles, and crystal centerpieces. Rustic. Simple. Elegant. Guests mill around with drinks at this cocktail hour before Kayla’s reception dinner, and I’m glad to see I dressed appropriately. I’m wearing my red Victorian cocktail dress, the only fancy thing I packed, and my hair swept into a side up-do.

With a lit up stocked bar and a dance floor flickering with colors, the warm, inviting atmosphere helps me envision how a barn at Bo’s Château could host events locally. I’d add a stone fireplace, a loft with more seating, and a wall of windows toward the lake and mountains.

Owen approaches me with a dazzling smile on his face and a tuxedo hanging on his fine body. With champagne glasses in both hands, he holds one out. “Here.” His eyes roam up and down before he croaks, “You look… incredible.”

“Thank you and thank you.” I take it, heating up from the sight of him as our last encounter flashes through my mind. My stomach flutters remembering the way he touched me. How his body felt pressed up against mine.

He cuts into my trip down memory lane. “You’re visually redesigning this, aren’t you?”

I laugh. “You read my mind. Again.” I lower my voice. “I hope you can’t read the other thoughts I’m having.”

He leans into my ear, his breath warm on my neck when he whispers, “I might—since I’m having the same ones.”

Electric waves ripple through me, and I’m so glad to be at a nice event with Owen to take my mind off the million and one things waiting for me, and how absent-minded I’ve become. “Aren’t you just in touch with thoughts and feelings.”

“Ugh, believe me, I know. My sisters tease me about it all the time. Good thing I’m secure in my masculinity.”

As he should be—especially in that tux and that forest green tie and cummerbund, which complement his dark hair and stormy blue-gray eyes. “Good thing.” I bite my lip.

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