Page 78 of 11 Cowboys
The way I’ve been behaving is so far from professional, it’s a dot on the horizon.
But how do you stay detached when Junie asks you to braid her hair? When Eli’s dark, solemn eyes finally soften with trust? When these cowboys, these impossible, flawed, infuriating men, start looking at you like you’re the answer to all their hopes and dreams, with an equal mix of relief and fear at the prospect?
My heart lurches painfully. I’m so deep already it’s hard to determine where their world ends and mine begins.
I exhale and stare at the blinking cursor. I should feel relieved. I’ve done what I came here to do. The article is only a few edits from finished. So, why does it feel like the last thing I want to do is hit send?
Maybe because committing to the ending feels like writing a story I haven’t finished living?
I tab away from the draft to a blank page with a new goal in mind. The novel I thought I’d write about a city career woman feels cold now. Lifeless.
Instead, something simpler pulls at me. I type without thinking:
Once upon a time.
I grimace, laughing softly to myself.“Lame,” I mutter. “So lame.”
But I don’t delete it. Not yet.
Because I’ve achieved something that’s always been elusive. I’ve made a start, no matter how ridiculous, on a project for myself, in the hope that this could be the beginning of something new.
I can always erase it later, when I’ve worked out the story’s journey and the ending.
I can figure out that part on paper, but in real life?
If only it were that easy.
27
HARRISON
I have a half-sanded bridle in my lap and a mug of coffee cooling at my feet. The kids are still out by the creek with Brody and Levi, and most of the men have disappeared into whatever corners of the ranch called them when evening settled in and the work was finally done.
Grace steps out from the house, her boots soft against the planks, the laptop tucked under one arm like it weighs more than it should. Her eyes drift to what I’m doing, then meet mine and hold, cautious and steady.
“Got a minute?”
I nod and straighten, wiping dust from my hands onto my jeans. “Always,” I said. “You all right?”
She approaches and settles beside me on the bench, so her body is angled slightly toward the yard, as if she might change her mind and bolt for the trees. Her fingers tighten around the edge of the laptop, the tension working its way up her arms and into her shoulders. She has guarded posture that comes from waiting too long to share something difficult.
“I’ve been working on the article,” she said finally, her voice low. “This isn’t the way I usually work, but I think… I think I want your opinion.”
I tilted my head toward her, curious. “Mine specifically?”
A small laugh slips out—dry and nervous. “You’ll be honest.”
“That sounds about right.”
She opens the laptop slowly and then turns it toward me. The screen glows in the fading light, and a Word document blinks to life with Cowboy Marriage Assignment in bold at the top.
“I haven’t shown it to anyone else.”
I shift and adjust the screen in my lap, warmed by her trust. “All right, then,” I said. “Let’s see what you’ve created here.”
She folds her hands in her lap, and I begin to read.
Eleven cowboys looking for a lady.
