Page 42 of Taming the Billionaire Cowboy
“Let’s get some ice cream first,” Carly says. “Before the line gets too long.”
Bradley nods, as serious as he is when he’s chasing down chickens. “Yeah, before it melts.”
Before I know it, we’re out of the truck and winding our way through the parade-goers, through the families and groups of kids and the summer heat. It feels strange to be in a place like this, to have the Fourth of July stretch out around me, so big and busy and small-town simple. It’s chaos and ease. Carly leads us to the ice cream stand and gives the woman there a quick hello.
“What’ll you have?” Carly asks me, and I have no idea.
“Surprise me,” I tell her.
The world spins, the summer light making me dizzy. But it’s not like that meeting in Houston. It’s not a panic I’m trying to get away from, like the panic that put me in this place to begin with.
This time, I love it.
Carly hands me an ice cream, red and blue swirls across vanilla. “This okay?” she asks, pretending not to know the answer.
We find a spot along the sidewalk, right at the curb. The buildings around us seem to sag from the heat, the sidewalks cracked and uneven but full of life. The crowd fills in around us, familiar faces for Carly but not for me. There are shouts and waves, kids I’ve seen before but don’t know the names of, moms and dads who nod in our direction like they can’t believe the city guy from the ranch is out here with them.
What they don’t know is that I can’t believe it either.
My hand slipping into hers, I look at Carly, taking her in. Her shirt hangs loose on one shoulder, the bare skin streaked with dirt from the morning’s work. Her hair is pulled back but already frizzing from the heat, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The show starts, fire trucks and floats rolling by, firecrackers that pop and bang through the air, and a local band filling the gaps with more noise and spirit.
“Is it starting?” Bradley asks, jumping up and craning his neck.
“It’s started,” I tell him. “And it looks amazing.”
He squints through the tangle of legs and lawn chairs. “I can’t see!”
“You want a boost?” I ask, and he stares at me like I’m out of my mind, like it’s a crazy offer. But a good kind of crazy.
“Yeah!” he shouts, and I hoist him onto my shoulders, where he laughs with glee.
“Be careful, Bradley,” Carly says.
“I’ve got him,” I promise her.
“There you are!” a woman’s voice says. “We’ve been looking for you.”
It’s two women – Carly’s cousin Ferris, and an older woman. By the way she’s intensely inspecting me, I already know this has to be Carly’s mom.
“Mom,” Carly says. “This is Oliver.”
We shake hands, and Ferris looks like she’s trying not to giggle.
“Nice to meet you,” Carly’s mom says. “I’m Glenda. And look at this big guy!” She pats Bradley’s knee.
He beams down from my shoulders, proud and happy and maybe even loving me a little. I feel my heart swell.
“Where’s your mom?” Carly asks Ferris.
“She’s got the bar open. Waiting for a rush after the parade.”
Carly’s mom is eyeing me again. “You keeping up with our girl here?”
Carly rolls her eyes and gives my hand a quick squeeze. “Trying his best,” she says. “Oliver’s actually pretty good at mucking stalls.” She gives me that teasing look I love.
“I’m still perfecting my technique,” I say, playing along. Carly’s mom chuckles, shaking her head in amusement.
