Page 153 of Role Play
“Careful there. ‘City girl’ is starting to sound like a compliment.” I wink at him.
“It is,” he assures me. “And you didn’t overstep. Marnie and I are still married on paper. That’s why I wear my ring. But in every other sense…”
He doesn’t need to explain. I can fill in the blanks. Marnie probably had a dozen other relationships, while for Boone, it seems he found solace in work.
The weight of this revelation settles upon me. Now Forrest makes so much more sense than ever before. It always seemed odd how despite everything, he was still so supportive of Hannah having custody. He wanted Dakota to have what he didn’t—a relationship with her mom.
“The best way to be there for Dakota,” Boone says, meeting my eyes directly, his gaze steady and clear, “is to just be there. The way Marnie wasn’t.” He echoes my internal sentiments as if he can read me like a book.
I nod, understanding blooming like a sudden light. This is why Forrest finally made his big change. Hannah committed the ultimate sin in his eyes by moving to Tokyo with herboyfriend without Dakota. Her arrogant, entitled personality was tolerable, but when she chose to abandon her family, she became another Marnie—the one thing he couldn’t forgive.
“I can do that,” I say firmly, determined suddenly and completely. “Be there, I mean.”
Boone studies me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine as if gauging the weight of my promise. What he sees must satisfy him, because he nods, a small smile softening the hard planes of his face. “I know you can.”
He rises, setting his hat back on his head with a practiced motion, and returns to the stove. “Now come on. Let’s get the cornbread started. We’ve got a hungry bunny hunter to feed.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet.
“Tell me about your books,” he says, surprising me. “Forrest mentioned you write romance books.”
I blink, trying to picture Forrest discussing my writing with his taciturn father. “I do.”
“Never read much romance myself,” Boone admits, his cheeks coloring slightly. “But I reckon yours are good.” He gathers the cornbread ingredients, which in the country is apparently not just a box of Jiffy. “What’s your latest one about?”
It seems too overwhelming to explain, really. So I answer as simply as I can in true Boone fashion. “My parents. They had a strained relationship as I was growing up. They got divorced when I was a teenager. But ten years later, they’re dating again.”
Boone lets out a low hum. “Well, how about that. You think they’re going to last this time?”
I smile to myself, warmth filling my cheeks and my heart. “Yeah, I think so.”
Dakota bursts through the door at that moment, face flushed with cold and excitement, clutching something in her small hands. “Look, look, look! A special rock! It’s got sparkles!”
Boone immediately crouches to her level, hat tipped back, face alight with genuine interest. “Well now, let’s have a look, Pumpkin.”
As Dakota displays her find, chattering about where she discovered it and all its magical properties, I stir the chili and watch this unlikely pair—the reticent cowboy and the tiny, chatty city girl—heads bent together over an ordinary quartz pebble as if examining the Crown Jewels.
All I can think as I watch them together is that this place is full of all the things I put in my stories, but have never experienced for myself. Love, family, warmth, and security.
And maybe it’s time for me to start living.
The barn door grinds as I push it open, balancing a large picnic basket against my hip. The interior is dimly lit, with dust motes dancing in the slanted beams of late-afternoon sunlight that filter through high windows. The smell of hay and old wood wraps around me like a blanket, earthy and comforting in its unfamiliarity.
“Forrest?” I call, stepping carefully over the uneven floorboards. “You in here?”
“Back here,” his voice echoes from the far end.
I follow the sound, navigating past stacked hay bales and abandoned farm equipment. A rusty tractor part. Coils of wire. A saddle stand missing one leg, propped against the wall like a wounded soldier. Each piece a chapter in the story of this land.
I find him in what must have once been a stall, surrounded by feed bags and various tools. He’s changed into what I can only describe as full-on cowboy mode—faded jeans, scuffed workboots, and a buffalo-plaid shirt hanging open over a white tee that’s smudged with the dirt of a day’s honest labor.
My heart does a ridiculous flutter. City Forrest is undeniably sexy in his tailored shirts and designer jeans, but Country Forrest? With his tousled hair and that casual confidence that comes from being in his element?
I might need to sit down… And cross my legs.
“You missed dinner,” I say while shamelessly gawking.
He glances at his watch, genuine surprise crossing his features. “Shit, really? I lost track of time.”
