Page 56 of Tommy

My gift was obvious, although I wasn’t sure if he’d already guessed before opening it. It was the entire set of books in theTeddy Warsseries. I didn’t know how my agent had got the entire thing to us before Christmas, but he had, and June played her part perfectly as well. I made sure she had a collection too, even if she wasn’t a fan, at least she could donate them to a local library.

“Now I can get caught up,” he said. “And then you’ll have to show me those new pages you’ve been working on.”

“That was the plan,” I told him. “But no comments on them. I’m just creating in my space right now.”

“Noted,” he said, tapping a finger against the rim of the hat. “I think us two cowboys should go see to that food before our hunger takes over and we begin eating each other. In a sexy way, not a weird cannibal way.”

The way he went from one thing to the other made me giggle. “Yes, please. I’m most looking forward to that bacon. I haven’t have bacon in weeks.”

“You should’ve told me,” he said. “It’s been in the freezer. Going forward, I’m gonna need a list of foods you like, and not snack foods either.”

“I don’t even remember what I like unless it’s in front of me, or I’m being asked about it,” I told him. And it was a good job he wasn’t asking about my daily habits in the city either. I loved ease and convenience, which wasn’t available here because of the lack of delivery. That wasn’t his fault, although maybe it was because he could turn the internet on whenever he wanted.

For the first time in many years, Christmas had meaning again. There was no pressure to have the perfect day with all the right emotions. And there definitely wasn’t any friendly fightsover who was bringing what food to the potluck dinner I would always end up attending and bringing a large dessert from a bakery as an excuse for not making anything.

After breakfast, we tended to the animals, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the day in the bliss of each other’s company. We told each other stories of Christmases we’d experienced in the past. Hardin talked openly about never celebrating once his grandma passed away because of how the world put emphasis on spending time with family. He’d told me it was the same with Thanksgiving as well, which he celebrated by being thankful for the land he was allowed to work on.

I envied how cut off his life was here, sometimes there was too much happening in the city, and it was a good distraction at times, but ultimately, it kept me from connecting. Hardin was the first true connection I’d made in years, and because of him, I was going to meet my new deadline for the next book.

After spending over twenty-five days with him, he finally told me his name.

“If we’re going to make a real go at this, you should know my first name is Ren,” he said. “Doesn’t pack as much of a punch as Hardin does, plus, when you’ve got a name like mine, it’s always best to rough it up a little. It kept a lot of people from bullying me.”

“I can’t imagine anyone ever bullying you,” I said.

“That’s because I go by Hardin,” he said.

“Can I call you Ren or—”

“You can call me whatever you want,” he said. “As long as you remember to call me when you’re back in New York. Day or night, I’ll pick up the phone.”

And that’s exactly what I did.

Once I touched down in the city, I called him from my cell and he answered. His sweet, rough voice on the other end mademy heart skip. I was already thinking about getting on the plane and heading back to him, but it would happen soon enough.

He was my Daddy, and I was his boy.

Our connection was too strong for us to stay apart.

And once my lease was up, I knew exactly where I was going.

Lone Pine Ranch, Montana.

Population:updating.

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