Page 359 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Faye’s enormous Kentucky Derby hat is adorned with miniature “For Sale” signs and tiny model houses perched on the brim.
“Good afternoon, ladies. Lookin’ into some real estate?”
I know better.
They followed me here. Whether they saw me walk through the front doors or heard through Rocky Ridge Creek’s grapevine that I’d stepped into the agency, only they know.
“Let’s just say, we can spot a future homeowner like we can spot a future soulmate.” She presses a glove hand to her chest, and a tiny “Sold” sign jingles from the charm bracelet on her wrist.
I shake the manila envelope. “No, thank you, ladies. Jade and I have this handled.”
“I don’t think Jade knows you’re even here.” Wilma arches an eyebrow with a stampede of accusations.
She doesn’t know, but we’ve talked about everything—our dreams, our plans, both now and for the future.
There are no secrets between us, except for this envelope I’m planning to surprise her with. We’re in tune with each other, entirely on the same page with no obstacles between us.
Well, of course, except for these two meddling ol’ birds.
“Did you read that on your little crystal ball?”
My question gets exactly the reaction intended. Bristled feathers, all puffed up, all ruffled, like I’ve disturbed a nest.
“I think you underestimate how well we know people.” Wilma’s stare is unyielding.
“I think you’ve underestimated how much I enjoy keeping my businessmybusiness. No gossip fodder here.”
Faye puts her weight on one foot, swaying little “For Sale” plaques hanging from her shoe buckles. “I told you he wouldn’t spill. Iron wall here.”
“What’s wrong with us giving you a little nudge in the right direction?” Wilma hikes a silver eyebrow. “We want to make sure you’re on the right track.”
“A little nudge?” I ask them. “We all know it’s more like a full-on shove.”
Last month, I would’ve released the big, burly bear inside me. I would’ve grumbled. I would’ve cursed. I probably wouldn’t have left the ranch. But I’ve been leaving the ranch more. Spending nights with Jade.
Going on dates.
Together.
In town.
Big fucking steps.
“He’s practically allergic to opening up.” Faye adjusts the sash that says “Open House.”
“At least he’s an open book.” Wilma blinks slowly, as if measuring the gravity of the moment.
“Am I?” I ask, and it goes unheard by them.
“He could try to be a little more cooperative,” Faye huffs. “We are only trying to help him.
“Maybe he doesn’t realize that.”
“I realize that,” I say.
Still, they ignore me.
“It’s like talking to a brick wall.” Wilma’s silver hair peeks out beneath the Stetson when she angles her head away from me.
