Page 82 of Ride Me Reckless
“Yeah? Something up?”
I shifted back, one arm draped across the top of the couch. “Yeah. I won’t be able to make the flight. Tuesday’s a big day for me—and my fiancée. She’s expecting our first child.”
There was a pause, then a low whistle. “Fiancée, huh? Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “By my book, we’ve been engaged about five years, give or take.”
Tessa looked up and nudged my arm with her elbow. “Is that your version of proposing?”
I didn’t even skip a beat. “If it works, sure.”
She laughed, that soft, familiar laugh that hit me low in the gut. “Then I guess I say yes.”
Art chuckled in my ear. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Yeah, but it’s the good kind.” I cleared my throat, getting back to business. “Here’s the thing—I still want to help. If you can get me photos and a few videos of those bulls before bidding starts, I’ll text you what to look for. I’ll send notes. Real-time if need be.”
“That could work,” Art said thoughtfully. “Won’t be the same without you there, but I trust your eye. I’ll have Gavin take some footage, make sure we get everything you need.”
“Appreciate it,” I said. “I want you to get the right stock. But I can’t miss this. We’ve got our second ultrasound that day.”
“Say no more,” Art said, sounding like a man who knew exactly how important that was. “Tell your fiancée congrats for me.”
“I will.” I ended the call and turned to Tessa, who was biting her lip in that way she did when she was holding back a grin.
“So,” I said, sliding my phone onto the coffee table, “how do you feel about being engaged? It always seemed to me we already were… then you left.”
She tilted her head, teasing. “Well, you never actually asked me before. Maybe if…”
I leaned in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Maybe I should have...”
“I don’t know, Colt. I think fate knew we had some growing up to do.”
“I suppose so. Anyway, I want you to know I will get around to proposing with a ring and all. It’s just that we have been kind of busy.”
“You better,” she said, nestling into my side. “Because I’m holding out for fireworks.”
I held her tighter, both of us quiet for a beat.
Tessa had curled into the corner of the couch beside me, flipping through the memory care brochure again, legs tucked under her. My hand rested on the curve of her belly, and for abreath or two, I let myself believe that maybe the hardest parts were behind us.
Then her phone rang.
She blinked down at the screen, mouth pulling into a tight line. “It’s Helen.”
I sat up straighter as she answered, her voice calm but clipped. “Hello?”
A pause. Then her expression shifted—shoulders going stiff, the brochure slipping from her lap onto the floor. “I see. So… that’s final?” Another pause. “Okay… yes. We’ll be there.”
She ended the call with a soft sigh and looked over at me. Her eyes were clear, but her voice carried a weight that hadn’t been there five minutes ago.
“They’re releasing her. The insurance denied continued care. She’s being discharged tonight.”
The smile I’d been wearing slipped, just a little. Not out of frustration. Out of empathy.
“That soon?” I asked gently.
She nodded, already rising to her feet. “They gave her a sedative for the ride, but they said we need to be there by six.”
