Page 22 of The Parent Playbook
“Thanks for being you.”
He grins, the kind that’s all gums and mischievous sparkle. “I don’t know how to be anyone else. Love you! See you later!”
As the door shuts behind him, I slide down to sit on the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by the whirlwind of the morning—from barn repairs to maternal revelations.
I need a nap, but these repairs wait for no woman.
I’m deep into reviving the sun-bleached welcome signs when laughter floats over from the paddocks. There, under the lazy afternoon sun, a young boy with his trusty oxygen tank is perched atop our most forgiving pony, Chester. The kid’s laughing like he’s on top of the world, not the back of a pony.
I watch the boy take another triumphant lap from my perching place against the fence, his guardian offering me a grateful nod that’s worth more than any paycheck. It’s moments like these that recharge my batteries, though my body votes for a nap.
By mid-afternoon, my body is shouting for a break, but my brain’s got a different agenda. I’m plotting a makeshift fix for our pathetic excuse of a duck pond liner when the crunch of gravel announces Scotty’s truck rolling up.
A knight in shining armor bearing pizza and plumbing supplies with a grin like the Cheshire Cat.
“You look like you won the lottery.” I take the pizza from its tenuous resting place on his arm. “Not schlepped to a ranch with potential tetanus adventures.”
“Figured you might be starving, and Chester hinted you could use some backup with that sprinkler system,” he says, gesturing to where the old pony is now contentedly tearing at some hay. Scotty lets out a long breath and tilts his head as he looks me straight in the eyes. “Angel, you look exhausted. How about we hit pause, eat some pizza, and you can make a list of the plumbing miracles you need from me next?”
I don’t know if it’s the way Scotty sees what I need before I can even say it aloud, but I find myself agreeing before my pride can put up a fight.
“You’re a lifesaver. Pizza and plumbing—it’s like you’ve peeked into my wild Friday night fantasies.”
We sit on his truck’s tailgate, sharing slices of what has to be heaven on dough—at least it feels like that on my battered energy levels. Scotty outlines his master plan for the sprinklers.
With the pizza demolishing my hunger and Scotty’s easy company dismantling my usual defenses, I let the ranch’s evening serenade of crickets and distant animal calls fill the spaces between us. This man only just showed up, and I can’t get over how much I want him to stay.
But that could be the lack of sleep talking.
CHAPTER 10
SCOTTY
“Eat that last piece,” Angel calls out as she lugs a giant ladder across the yard. “I’m gonna set up.”
The stars are out in force tonight, like a crowd at a playoff game, bright and buzzing against the quiet backdrop of the ranch. As much as I love the indoors of an arena, this cool breeze and the scent of hay is the kind of night that makes me glad to be out under the sky. It was something I always loved about working at the dog spa, running around with the four-legged rascals.
I didn’t see a ranch coming when I decided to bring Lil to Maple Falls, but it fits. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round. The roar of the arena is back in my life, but so is the countryside and small-town living.
Both places have their own kind of rush. On the ice, the rush is adrenaline. Here, it’s more about the steady satisfaction of fixing things, of leaving something better than I found it. It never occurred to me that I could have both.
Angel sets the ladder against the side of the barn with a thud. “You ready for this?” she calls over, a challenge in her voice that brings a grin to my face.
“Born ready,” I shoot back, jogging over to help her stabilize the ladder.
Life. One day I’m gearing up for a championship from the coaching bench, the next I’m figuring out how to keep an old barn from falling apart. But that’s the thing about life—I couldn’t have seen this coming.
I’ve met an Angel.
“Hold tight,” she shouts. “I’m going up.”
The moonlight shadows her movements. I have to take it all in as I keep a tight grip on the ladder. The quiet of the night, the rustle of the trees, and a woman who is unlike any other.
“It’s too quiet down there.” She looks over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Not admiring the view, I promise.”
“I remind you that this is a family-friendly ranch, Mr. MacFarland.” I can’t see the details of her face from her spot two stories up, but I hear the tease in her voice.
