Page 53 of Cowboy Falling Hard

She would, however, regret rushing ahead, going too fast, making their foundation sloppy and slipshod.

“I don’t like what you just said, about waiting. But my affection and desire and admiration for you just grew immeasurably because of it. If that makes sense.”

“And that’s not your emotions. That’s a rational reaction to my rationality.”

They chuckled a little, and then his hands slipped down her back and lingered for just a moment at her waist before they fell completely away, although his left hand caught her right hand, and their fingers twined together.

“Let’s go back to the house and finish these beans. Tomorrow is a big day.”

“It is. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter 18

Constant communication, talk to each other all the time. Can't go wrong. - Lyn Morris, St Helens, UK

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IT WAS STILL DARK WHENDwight pulled into the auction barn the next morning. He hadn’t gotten home the night before until after midnight, but the beans were all done, Mrs. Brown was happy, and most importantly, Orchid had been smiling when he left her.

She’d beamed as she pulled the last jar out of the canner and set it down on the counter. He felt a sense of accomplishment too, unexpected. Snapping beans without Orchid would have been a terrible job. As it was, he would have to say it had been one of the best days of his life.

Orchid was sweet and funny, as he’d always known she would be, but it was the first time he’d gotten to experience it firsthand and in such close quarters. He wanted more.

The day hadn’t gone the way he had planned, not even a little, but God’s intervention had made it so much better.

If he would have been able to choose, he would never have chosen to can beans, but that work had provided the perfect backdrop for Orchid and him to build a little on the foundation of their relationship.

He might slowly be coming to agree that dating was not the best way to get to know someone. But working with them, seeing how they reacted to the little bumps, a broken jar in the canner, one of the kids coming in with a bloodied finger, cutting herself with a knife, and dropping an entire bowl of cut beans on the floor, all those things showed them what kind of people they were, what kind of character they had, what kind of grace they were willing to offer.

He wouldn’t have found any of that out on a date. A date was a manufactured time, a bunch of fakeness and superficiality that did nothing to show anyone what someone did in the real world, other than possibly how generous they were in their tip. And how they treated their waiter.

As he closed the door to his truck, he walked toward the bright lights which were on in the auction barn, with the big doors open. There was a horse cross tied in the walk.

Although he’d heard about him, he hadn’t met the farrier, who, from what he understood, was an Irishman who had been hired by Ford Hansen when Ford had rescued a retired racehorse.

Looking around, Dwight did not see Orchid, so he stepped into the far entrance and stopped.

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