Page 38 of More Than a Good Friend

“Yes. Good.” She slides the food into the oven, then watches the pot as it gurgles and spews out hot coffee.

“Still like working on the ranch?” I haven’t asked about her job in a long time.

Her head bobs. “Love it. Even when it’s busy.”

“It’s ’cause I’m here, isn’t it?” I flash a grin so that she knows I’m joking.

“Absolutely. You are the only reason I took this job.” She pours two cups of coffee. “Let’s go.”

When we get to my truck, I open the passenger door for her. And she looks at me like cauliflower is growing out my ears.

“What?”

She hands me her coffee, then climbs in before taking it back. “Nothing. You just don’t do that normally.”

“Maybe all the chivalrous guys are rubbing off on me.” I say it as a joke, but it might be the reason.

I head toward the pasture where we’re housing the new bull. “Okay so while I have you trapped in a moving vehicle, I need to talk to you about something.”

“When you put it like that, it makes me a little scared.”

I chuckle. “I’ve been thinking about something your mom said—”

“Just pull over right now and let me out. I’m pretty sure this isn’t something I want to discuss.” She’s feigning panic and laughing nervously, but her discomfort is obvious.

“She said you don’t get dates because I’m around you a lot of the time. But then your brother said I didn’t need to worry about it. Who’s right—your mom or your brother? Because as much as I enjoy spending time with you, I’ll stop. I think that’s what you were trying to tell me when you talked about space.” I may be slow to pick up on things, but I’m trying my best.

She tugs on her ear. “I like how things are. You don’t need to stop spending time with me unless you want to.” After a deep breath, she blows it out. “At the party, you didn’t want me to get you a drink, and I figured that our talk about—you know—was making you not like spending time with me.”

“You mean falling in love with me?” I love the way her cheeks turn a little bit pink.

“Yes. I was referring to that conversation.”

“At the party when I told you not to wait on me, I was trying not to be a jerk. You always wait on me. Don’t you get tired of doing that? My mom waits on my dad all the time, and I’m not sure either of them is really happy.” My muddled thoughts don’t make for a well formulated response, but hopefully, she understands my drift.

“I’ve never given it a lot of thought. Doing stuff for you, I mean. And I’m not sure what to say about your parents. I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. But you can’t just skip over my question. Is your mom right?”

Goldie reaches over and rubs my arm. “It doesn’t matter. I like it when we hang out. Always have.”

“Good. Then I have another question.” I hadn’t planned on asking her all this stuff, but last night, it took me a while to go to sleep, and these things were bouncing around in my head. “They are having that Valentine’s Day dance at the venue. I was thinking—since I know everyone else from the ranch will be going—we should go, and I promise that I won’t make you sit around all night. We can dance. Together.”

She’s quiet, so I glance over.

“What about your finger? What if it hasn’t healed?”

“Hands tied behind my back, I can still dance circles around anyone. Have we ever danced together?” I feel awful that I have to ask. It seems impossible that we haven’t, but I don’t remember.

“A couple of times, but it’s been a while.”

“Then I may have to fill your dance card to show off my stellar skills. Dancing with me is like walking on clouds. Lots of ladies have said so.”

“I don’t want to keep you from your normal stuff.”

“You mean like Regina and the other ladies?”

She nods.

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