Page 83 of Here With Me
I even parked on the retreat side again and walked half a mile to make sure no one noticed my truck. Though I didn’t bring my rig this time, I’m not taking that chance.
“Is it on VHS?” she asks when I tell her I brought over a movie from the ’80s.
I deadpan, and she bursts out laughing.
“Blu-ray,” I defend. “Do you even know what a VHS looks like?”
“Yes, I saw it on some vintage early 2000s documentary.”
I nearly stroke out at the thought ofvintagebeing only two decades ago.
She finally reads the title. “We’re watchin’Overboard?”
“I need to educate you on who Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell are.”
“Who?”
I shake my head, take out the disc, then put it into her player. “Exactly.”
“Do you wanna tour beforehand? We can find some drinks and snacks, too,” she says, grabbing my hand.
Since her cottage is on the smaller side, the tour takes two minutes. It’s bright and quaint, exactly how I would expect a woman like Noah’s place to look. Photos of her with friends, family, and horses cover the walls. There’s a framed scenic watercolor photo of the ranch that looks as old as the movie we’re about to watch. The sunset shining between the trees with a rustic fence in front makes for a beautiful picture.
“Who painted this?” I ask before she leads us into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure. My grandfather gifted it to my dad when he took over the ranch. It was my gift after moving out so I'd have a piece of home with me.” As she stares at it, she laughs. “It’s silly because I’m literally five minutes away, but we’ve always been close.”
“None of your brothers wanted it?”
“I asked him the same thing, and he claimed they wouldn’t appreciate it the way I would.” She shrugs. “My brothers tease me for being a daddy’s girl, but I don’t really think they minded. My mom got photos printed of it so we had copies for the scrapbooks.”
“Ah.” The one Jase complained about. “I can’t wait to see yours.”
“I’m sure you will tomorrow because my mother has no boundaries when it comes to oversharing. Prepare to hear about my first period.”
I scratch my cheek with amusement. Seems the whole family isn’t afraid to speak their minds.
“Are you a popcorn or candy man?” she asks as she digs in her pantry. “I have both because I’m an M&Msinmy popcorn girly.”
“That sounds good. Salty and sweet.”
“Good choice. For drinks, I have sweet tea, Red Bull, or Budweiser.” She turns, waiting for my response.
Arching a brow, I ask, “Why doyouhave beer?” More specifically, the exact kind I like.
She grabs a bottle for me and a Red Bull for herself. “I was hopeful you’d come tonight, so I went into town after work and stocked up. Mrs. Bridges was workin’, and she’s a little nosy.”
I chuckle, though I don’t know who that is. “What’d she say?”
“Asked who I was buyin’ it for and about my plans tonight.” I grin when she twists the cap before handing it to me, remembering when she'd done that at the bar the night we met.
“Thank you,” I say. Then she pulls out a bottle of Jägermeister. “What’s that for?”
“Me.” She pops the tab of the Red Bull and then pours both liquids into her glass. “Luckily, I’m not drivin’ tonight.” Her little smirk has me smiling.
“I’ll stick to beer. I have to walk through the woods back to my truck.”
“Or you could just...stay here, and I’ll give you a ride in the mornin’.” She takes a sip of her concoction but stares at me over the rim.
