Page 7 of Special Delivery Cowboy
I did love it. The land, the work, the rhythm of seasons and cattle and knowing every fence line by heart. Some men needed cities. I needed this—the land, the work, the quiet. It was enough.
Emily had invited me to Seattle for Christmas. Said I could sleep on their couch, meet her husband's family, see the city.Cole had offered the same from San Diego—come down, hit the beach, forget about Montana winter for a few days.
I'd said no to both. The ranch needed me. The herd and our horses needed me. And the truth was, I didn't know how to be anywhere else anymore.
"Promise us something," Dad said.
"What?"
"Don't let this place be all you have." His expression softened. "We worry about you, son. You work hard, we're proud of that. But you're twenty-nine years old. When's the last time you went out? Saw friends? Met someone?"
I stared at the table. "I'm fine."
"You're single." Mom's voice was gentle, almost teasing. "And we know that's partly our fault. We've needed you here, depended on you. But now that we're stepping back, maybe you can finally... breathe a little. Live a little. We want you to have someone to share all this with. You're too young to be married to a ranch."
"I like my life."
"We know." She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "We don't want you to wake up at fifty and realize you spent it all alone because you thought the business needed you more than you needed someone to share it with."
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I thought about the main house, big and empty except for me. About coming home every night to silence. About watching my siblings build lives while I stayed the same.
"I'll work on it," I said, which was easier than explaining that most women didn't want what I had to offer. Five hundred acres, thirty minutes from town, long hours, no promises of anything glamorous.
"Good." Mom patted my hand and stood. "Now, speaking of living a little, I need a favor."
I should have known there was more.
"The puppies are ready to go home," she continued. "Most of the buyers picked theirs up yesterday, but RoyAnn—you remember her? Lost her husband back in March?"
"Yeah." I'd met her once at one of Mom's dog shows. Nice woman, probably mid-seventies.
"She was supposed to pick up her puppy yesterday, but the weather forecast scared her off. She lives near Paradise Valley, and with the storm coming, I don't think she'll make it here. I promised her a Christmas companion, TJ. She's been so lonely."
I saw where this was going. "Mom—"
"It's a quick drive. Hour and a half to Paradise Valley from here, if the weather holds. Drop the puppy off, turn around, come home."
"Storm's supposed to hit this afternoon."
"You'll beat it. And you're accustomed to driving in inclement weather." She gave me that look, the one that said she'd already decided and arguing was pointless. "Besides, it'll be good practice. Boss makes the hard calls, does what's right even when it's inconvenient."
"Playing the boss card already?"
"Is it working?"
I sighed. Glanced at Dad, who shrugged like this was my problem now. Turned back to Mom, who was smiling because she knew she'd won.
"Which puppy?"
"The last female golden. She's in the kennel, already has her red bow. Sweetest little thing." She was already moving toward the mudroom. "I've got formula, blankets, toys all packed up. RoyAnn's address is programmed in your truck's GPS." She paused, then added with a slight frown, "Hopefully the thing will last through the season."
"It better," I muttered.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing in Mom's kennel holding an eight-week-old golden retriever puppy who would not stop squirming.
"Come on now," I muttered, trying to secure her in the carrier. "You're going to a good home. Settle down."
She let out a soft cry and licked my hand, her whole body wiggling with excitement or fear or both. The red bow around her neck was already crooked. Brown eyes that trusted me completely, oversized paws, and ears so floppy they dragged when she moved.
