Page 43 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
It’s silly.
I know.
But the way he says it—I just can’t help myself.
“Thank you.”
It took me a ridiculous amount of time to choose the ruffled white blouse I tucked into a pair of flared denim jeans and tie the whole look up with tan-heeled booties—a ridiculous amount of time.
“Shall we?” He presses his hand on the small of my back, and I’ve never felt like I belong the way I do with him. He’s always seen me fully and accepted me. I get the feeling time hasn’t changed that.
Thorn and I head to the breakfast buffet with our meal cards. Cheerful holiday music plays throughout the lodge, and staff members wear festive reindeer antlers. The way the scents of cinnamon, gingerbread, and peppermint greet us around every turn is heaven.
We fill our plates from several food stations and settle into a single booth. He hangs his stetson on the hook on our booth frame and slides across from me effortlessly. Our feet and knees knock under the table, and our shared look quickens my pulse.
“Tell me about the ranch.” I peel back the foil lid of a small butter packet. “I know you weren’t sure what to do after graduation.” I glance at him as I dig the knife into the soft yellow spread.
“What do you want to know?” He bites down on a piece of crispy bacon.
“Everything.”
He chuckles and finishes chewing. “Don’t we have places to be this morning and photos to take?”
I shrug. “We have time.” I slather the butter on my flapjacks.
“In that case, where to start.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he eases onto the bench and sips his coffee. His plaid shirt hugs his broad shoulders.
“This is backward, by the way,” he says. “I wanted to know everything about you.”
“We’ll get there eventually.”
The side of his mouth curls upward. “The ranch was in rough shape when you left. Dad had sold off all the cattle, the equipment, basically anything to buy a drink. He let the land fall into shambles—the pastures, landscape, water supply. He spent more time at Bucky’s Bar than on the ranch.”
I nod, remembering Thorn’s conversations during our last summer together. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
His head dips. “Thank you, and I was sorry to hear about your mom’s passing.”
“Thank you.”
“I was surprised not to see you at the funeral.”
“I was still mad at her.” The guilt hits me hard. “I am still mad at her. I might always be.”
I sigh and dip my forkful of pancake into the syrup on my plate. I take a bite, needing a minute to regain myself. I swallow water to wash it down.
“Her slow unraveling after my dad left was painful to watch. She was supposed to be our anchor; instead, she was a shadow in the background. She chose men over Dani and me. And this once vibrant woman who danced with us in the kitchen while baking cookies was a hollow shell who slept all day and was gone all night.”
He silently absorbs every word with nods of understanding. His eyes don’t waver, holding warmth that encourages me to continue.
“But anger is a heavy burden to carry. I still feel the sting of resentment, but maybe my mama was just trying to escape her pain and struggles and did what was best for her—even if it left me and Dani in the shadows. And I’m not much better. I left Dani here alone with her.”
“Your sister has never been alone.”
“No?”
He shakes his head. “No. If she needed something, she asked. It didn’t matter who. She talked to Alma at the Cowboy Cafe when she needed a job and started waitressing that morning. When she needed some food, I dropped off what I could manage from the gardens on the ranch. When she decided she wanted her sister back, she teamed up with the Quylt sisters. We live in a small town, and I’ve learned we care for each other here.”
