Page 88 of Wrangled Love

Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat

Charlie: I’m filing a formal complaint against urban cowboy.

Briar: What did he do now?

Charlie: Kidnapped you, clearly. I’ve been caffeine-deprived and emotionally abandoned.

Charlie: I’ve resorted to small talk with Heath twice this week. Dark times.

Birdie: Why haven’t you asked me to go to Lasso & Latte?

Charlie: Birdie Mae, you’ve basically been in hiding since your livestock grand theft. Coffee dates aren’t an option until you’re off the wanted list.

Birdie’s been paranoid since her “rescue mission” at the county fair. With her dad being the sheriff, and his office on the case, she’s convinced they’ll catch her on tape. She still won’t tell us how she managed to get a donkey and a calf out of the fairgrounds and back to her place without a single witness. Good thing she lives alone, and her dad rarely stops by. Otherwise, her cover would’ve been blown already.

Birdie: Enough about me.

Birdie: Briar, are you and Jensen official yet, or still in denial?

At least one of the girls asks me that question every day, and I always find a way to deflect. Why? Because the truth is I am in denial, and I’d rather keep it that way a bit longer than face what’s waiting on the other side.

Wren: Seriously, if he doesn’t lock you down, he’s an idiot.

Charlie: No chance urban cowboy is leaving.

Wren: And if he even thinks about breaking your heart, we go full girl gang mode.

Charlie: I’ll go ballistic and watch him squirm.

I laugh under my breath. My friends are absolutely the best. They’re always in my corner, no questions asked.

“There you are,” Julie exclaims from the counter, where she’s cutting peaches for her Dutch oven cobbler.

The ranch house’s kitchen is my favorite space, with its wide-plank wood floors, vaulted ceiling accented by exposed beams, and a butcher block island at its center. A picture window above the farmhouse sink looks over the garden and the pastures beyond.

“Sorry we’re late,” I say, setting a bowl on the island. “I attempted macaroni salad but overestimated how much dressing I needed, so it’s more of a soup consistency.”

This is why I stick to pancakes. I can’t be trusted with anything that doesn’t involve a hot griddle and syrup.

“It’s not as bad as she makes it sound,” Jensen says. “In fact, I think she’s created a new food trend—soup salad. Very innovative.” He laughs, brushing a stray hair behind my ear.

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I flash him a grateful smile. This man might be a god between the sheets, but he’s rather sweet and endearing when his walls come down.

“I’m sure it tastes divine,” Mama Julie agrees, wiping her hands on a hand towel before coming over to greet us.

Her eyes widen when she notices Caleb’s cowboy hat. “Oh my goodness, you look so handsome; I could cry.” When her gaze shifts to Jensen, and she realizes they’re wearing matching hats, real tears well up in her eyes.

She’s always considered Jensen part of the family, and I can only imagine the rush of emotions she’s experiencing as she’swatched him go from hating this small town to making peace with his roots and embracing them. Especially now, with his son by his side.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asks Mama Julie, his concern evident.

“I’d cry too if I had to look at you in that hat,” Heath says, stepping in from the deck with a smirk. “Caleb pulls it off like a champ. You? Not so much.”

“Don’t listen to Heath. You both look darling,” Mama Julie coos, stepping in to defuse the situation as only she can. “Now hush and take this out to your father.” She thrusts a foil-covered tray into Heath’s hands. “The meat should be done soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, wisely holding his tongue.

“Jensen, you grab the veggie skewers,” Mama Julie adds, passing him a casserole dish full of them.

---