Page 16 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Mama doesn’t have a husband anymore,” my baby declares.
I want to disappear through the floor. “Annalise Marie.”
“What? You don’t.”
“That’s not something we discuss with other people,” I tell her, trying to keep a straight face. But between my embarrassment and my amusement, it’s hard.
“But Blayne’s not other people. He’s our friend.”
Blayne’s trying very hard not to laugh, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes. Yeah, my girl’s highly entertaining… at my expense.
“Your mom’s right, sweetie. That’s private family business.”
“Oh. Okay.” She thinks about this for a second. “Can I tell you about my stuffed animals instead?”
“Sure.”
And just like that, she’s off and running, telling him about every single stuffed animal she owns while he listens like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard. My heart…
When we finally make it back to the living room, I realize I really don’t want him to go. I want to ask him to stay for dinner, or coffee, or just to sit on the porch and talk. But I don’t know how to do that without sounding desperate or needy or like I’m reading too much into his helpfulness.
“Everything looks good,” he says, setting his toolbox by the door. “If you have any problems, just call.”
“I will. And thank you again for the sewing machine. You saved my sanity.”
“Anytime.”
He heads toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the handle.
“You know, if you’re serious about the seamstress business, you might want to think about getting the word out. Small town like this, people like supporting local businesses.”
“I was thinking about that. Maybe putting up flyers or something.”
“Or you could set up a booth at the farmer’s market. Saturdays in the town square. Good way to meet people, show off your work.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Lot of the women around here would probably love to have someone local who can do alterations. Especially someone as good as you probably are.”
The confidence in his voice, like he just assumes I’m good at what I do, makes me feel warm all over.
“How do you know I’m good?”
“Because you wouldn’t be starting a business if you weren’t sure you could handle it.”
It’s such a simple statement, but it means more to me than he realizes. Richard used to question everything. My judgment, my abilities, my decisions. Having someone assume I know what I’m doing feels amazing.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“For what?”
“For believing I can do this.”
Something changes in his expression, his eyes turning warmer, more intense. “You can do anything you set your mind to, Reggie. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving me standing in my doorway watching his truck disappear down the road and wondering what the hell just happened to my carefully constructed walls.
Six
