Page 17 of Starting Our Chance

9 Loretta

Stretching my limbsout as wide as far would go, I sighed into my pillow, not quite ready to escape my dreams. But the alarm was being insistent on the nightstand. I blindly fumbled to reach the chirping device, and my eyes cracked open to discover I somehow had to subtract forty-three from ninety-one in order to silence the thing. Once that was accomplished, I blearily opened my phone and looked at my notifications.

I saw there was a text from late last night and another this morning. I popped up in bed to read them as soon as I saw who they were from.

Duke: Sweet dreams, Gorgeous.

Duke: Got a call in the middle of the night, I’m leaving at dawn to go help a friend out on the coast. When I get back tonight, I’m going to pop over and see you, since I won’t be able to surprise you at work for lunch. Have a great day, Gorgeous.

The smile on my lips threatened to split my face in half. Duke was an incredible guy, and he wanted to spend time with me.

He sees I’ve changed.

His interest was the best thing that could have happened to me. Duke had been my playmate and then my friend. Sure, we might have gone our separate ways as far as sports, but we could always count on one another for movie nights or horseback rides, even when life was at its busiest.

Yes, I had been the one to break that friendship. Now I saw it wasn’t broken so much as greatly strained, but the tension between us had waned. And we had come together in a collision of heat. I brushed my fingers against my lips. Damn, he’s such a good kisser. That kiss yesterday had been the sexiest, most passionate, body and soul shattering kiss of my life. I wanted more. I’m ready for more.

I scrambled out of bed, pausing to pull the sheets and quilt up, then smooth them down so Mama wouldn’t scold me. I might be an adult, but I was living under her roof, and well, her roof had rules. Making fast work of the rest of my morning routine, I contemplated what I’d send back as a reply. Although I couldn’t wait for a repeat of that kiss, I also just wanted to spend time with Duke. But how best to convey that without seeming like a parched slut?

Finally, sitting down to some eggs with spinach, I chewed on my bottom lip as I typed:

Me: Want to go on a walk tonight?

No! That sounds so lame. I palmed my face. I wasn’t good at this flirting thing. The sexy repertoire didn’t feel natural—especially when it came to the boy next door. I needed to play it cool. Think of him as your friend. What do friends hang out and do? Well, I might have a pay check waiting in my bank account, but I wasn’t going to be spending it if I didn’t have to. We could watch a TV show on my mama’s Hulu account. Is it too lame that I live back home, and we can’t get fresh on the couch because Mama will be puttering about in the kitchen? Then I wondered what his place was like. With all his money, I bet his floors weren’t dirt anymore, but did that mean he finally had a television?

I deleted the unsent message and stabbed at my eggs. This was where I needed a girlfriend. If I could only call Sammy . . . but I couldn’t. That was one relationship I would need to work at. Everyone else was willing to give me a second chance, to look at me for who I currently was and not who I used to be. Glancing down at my chic boutique top and designer jeans, I scrunched my face up and admitted that the new me was better dressed.

I directed my gaze to the kitchen window and smiled at the sweet face of the brown and white Simmental cow in my mama’s flower bed. Cows are just the most darlin’ critters. Too bad we eat them. I bent my head down, cutting another bit of egg with my fork. As I lifted it to my mouth, my eyes flew to the window again, this time wide with shock, and the fork and egg clattered to the plate.

“Oh, shit!”

Rushing out to the porch, I stopped short when the cool morning air hit my face. There, in our side of the pasture and steadily advancing into the yard, were a host of Duke’s cattle. The quaint picket fence that separated our yard from the pasture was broken. I couldn’t see where the cattle had escaped Duke’s land but if they continued their path, Mama’s gardens would not survive the carnage.

“Damn you, Duke! You and your fucking cows.” But no one was around to hear my exasperated curses.

This whole situation was déjà vu and part of me wanted to laugh at the irony. When I was a teen, Mr. Johnson’s cows had broken down that same fence and come marching into my parents’ yard. Now, here I was, reminiscing about the simplicity of country living and the damn creatures’ descendants were pulling the same stunt.

I screeched to the cattle as I hopped about on one foot, trying to put on a boot. I stumbled into the first work boot and fell onto my ass. My coordination was not prepared for urgency, all my grace and elegance gone in the frenzy. Cows could be destructive creatures, and I knew that there was limited time to stop them.

Whipping out my phone, I sent a fast message.

Me: So sorry. Going to be late this morning. Cows. Everywhere.

If Nikki had any inkling of country life, she would understand. If not, I could always make Duke talk to her since they knew each other so well.

As I tripped off the porch steps, I furiously dialed Duke. Thank Heavens Mama works the early shift at the hospital! I pressed the phone to my ear only to get Duke’s voicemail.

His pre-recorded message hit me straight in the gut. Duke was part of Sweet Briar, INC.! The phone slipped from my ear and my fingers fumbled to catch it.

Duke got me that job because he was part owner with Nikki . . . and I thought he was just an investor! The realization shattered me to the core. Wait—was Duke involved with Nikki?

I shook my head and thought fast. No. That kiss. Duke was never a player. Plus, Mama kept hinting about Duke, and she would have known if he was already involved.

The lowing of a cow brought me back to reality, and I cringed as the group of them broke down another part of the delicate yard fencing. Putting aside any thought of personal feelings, I typed to Duke:

Me: Cows. In my yard. Repeat of the garden carnage of ’05. Help!

This wasn’t how I wanted to return his sweet message from earlier, but I was in the middle of a war, dammit, and the cows were winning this battle! That meant that well-thought-out, tender or sexy messages to the boy next door would just have to wait.

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