Page 17 of Special Delivery Cowboy
Silence stretched between us. Then, quietly: "That’s very kind. Thank you."
We finished preparing dinner without talking much, but the silence felt charged. Every accidental brush of hands or arms made me want more.
This was bad. I was supposed to be keeping my distance, not telling her she was stunning.
Even if it was true.
Especially because it was true.
When the stew was simmering, we moved to the table by the windows. Snow continued its assault outside, piling higher on the deck railing. The house felt like the only warm place for miles.
"Tell me about the ranch," she said, ladling stew into bowls. "What's it like running a cattle operation?"
So I told her. About the land that had been in my family for three generations. About mornings that started before sunrise and days that ended after dark. About the satisfaction of working with your hands, of knowing every fence line and water source, of watching calves grow strong.
"My dad's retiring in January," I said. "Officially handing everything over to me. It's what I've always wanted, but it's also..." I paused, searching for words. "Lonely, sometimes. Most women I meet either don't understand the life or want me to give it up."
"That's not fair to you."
"It's reality." I shrugged. "Can't really blame them. It's long hours, isolated, not glamorous. My high school girlfriend left for California and never looked back. Most people do."
"Not everyone wants glamorous." She met my eyes. "Some people want real."
The way she looked at me made my chest tight.
I cleared my throat. "What about you? What happens after Christmas?"
"Honestly? No idea." She took a bite of stew, thoughtful. "I need to find a new job somewhere close to Bozeman so I can finish my dental hygiene certification. Take my boards in the spring. Figure out where I want to live, what I want my life tolook like." She laughed, but it sounded sad. "I thought I had it all planned out. Turns out I was planning someone else's life, not mine."
"You'll figure it out."
"You sound confident."
"I am. You're clearly smart, capable, and you make a damn good beef stew."
That earned me a real smile. "High praise from a cowboy."
"The highest."
After dinner, I helped clean up despite her protests. We worked side by side at the sink—her washing, me drying. Domestic. Easy. Like we'd done this a hundred times before.
When the last dish was put away, I grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet. "How about we take another bottle to the living room? Sit by the fire and relax?"
"That sounds perfect."
I opened a second bottle of the Cabernet we’d been having and we settled on the couch. Twinkle was still passed out by the fireplace, occasionally making puppy sounds in her sleep.
Tinsley curled into the corner of the couch, wine glass cradled in both hands. Firelight played across her face, turning her skin golden.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
"Go ahead."
"Do you ever feel like you're not enough? Like you have to change yourself to be what someone wants?"
The vulnerability in her voice hit me hard.
"No," I said honestly. "But that's because I stopped trying to be anything other than what I am years ago. This is who I am—rancher, Montana born and bred, happiest when I'm working the land. If that's not enough for someone, better to know it early."
