Page 20 of More Than a Little Spark

Laughing, I rest a hand on his chest.“You’re so funny.And I’m definitely going to need the details of what soap you use because I like it.A lot.”

“Awesome.”The apples of his cheeks rise as he grins.Then he glances down at my hand on his shirt.“I’ll, um, close this door, then walk around to my side.”

I pull my hand back.“Thank you for being my ride.I really appreciate it.”

“Happy to do it.”He gently closes the door and, a second later, slides in behind the wheel.“Any stops we need to make along the way?”

“Just the pharmacy.Other than that, I should be good.Rose bought me enough to get me through the next few days.Then hopefully, I’ll be able to go into my apartment and gather my own stuff.”

He turns out of the parking lot and navigates traffic, glancing at me occasionally as he drives.“How long until you can put weight on your foot?”

“At least two weeks.And I am not looking forward to using crutches.”I wince when he hits a pothole.

“Sorry.”

I pat his arm.“It’s fine.It’s not like you put the hole in the road.”

His grin widens when I touch him, so I’m thinking that there is a slight possibility that he’s starting to pick up the hints I’m laying down.At this point, they are flashing neon and sprinkled in glitter, but they’re still hints.

He pulls into the pharmacy lot, and I point toward the drive thru.When he gets to the window, the tech asks, “Who are you picking up for?”

“Daphne…” He turns to look at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.“They’re probably going to need your last name, and I don’t know that.”

“Emerson.Daphne Emerson.”

The tech grabs my meds, and I give my address to verify that I am who I say that I am, and Carson gets us back on the road.

“How long have you worked on the ranch?Have you always been a cowboy?”

He laughs.“Being a ranch hand is new.I’ve been working there a little over a year.And I’ve learned a ton.Before that, I worked in the oil fields.But once Fred came to live with me, I needed something different.”

“How did you end up at Stargazer Springs?Have you always lived in this area?”

Carson shakes his head.“I’m not from around here.As for how I ended up at the ranch, it’s kind of a funny story.”He checks his mirror before changing lanes.“So I got the call from the social worker asking if I’d be willing to care for Fred.Of course, I said yes because I wasn’t going to let him go into the system.But I didn’t have the first clue about what to do.So as soon as I got off the phone, I went to the library.Mind you, this was in a small town a few hours from here.And I asked the nice lady at the counter about where to find books on parenting.”

“I bet she showed you a lot of books about babies.”

“She did, but then I explained the situation.And we got to talking.”He looks over at me.“It really is a small world.That lady at the library was Grayson’s mom.He’s one of the other ranch hands.And that’s how I got introduced to Beau Henry, the ranch owner.”

Now I know who to thank for bringing Carson to this part of Texas and into my path.

As we drive, he tells me more about the move and how Fred found a friend on the ranch.The way Carson beams makes it clear that he’s super proud of his nephew, which gives me all sorts of warm fuzzies.

When we’re almost to the back entrance of Matchmaker Ranch, he glances at me.“I didn’t mean to dominate the conversation.Tell me more about what you do.All I know is that you have a nice boss who sends you flowers.”

“A very married boss.”I clench my jaw as Carson drives over the cattle guard.Even at a snail’s pace, the bumping around makes my ribs ache.“He runs a software company.I’m his executive assistant.It’s a great job.I’ve been there since I graduated from college.”

We get to a spot in the road where the rain washed away parts of the gravel, and Carson slows to a crawl.Gritting my teeth, I clutch the armrest.I think it’s time to take something for the pain.

The road smooths out, and I sigh with relief.

“I’m doing my best to avoid what I can.”Carson’s words drip with apology.

I rub his arm.“I know.I’m not blaming you.”

When we hit the next washboard section, I grip his bicep.“Please don’t drive over any more bumps.Please.I can handle loads of emotional pain.Tell me I’m useless.Fine.You think I’m ugly or stupid?No problem.I can deal with that.But physical pain is a different story.I can’t handle that.No more bumps.I’m begging you.”I swipe at a tear, wishing I were made of stronger stuff.

The trucks stops, and Carson stares at me.“You aren’t useless or ugly or stupid.I don’t think that at all.”

---