Page 38 of Her Cowboy Blind Date

After the rehearsal yesterday, Becky had accepted his invitation to join him for dinner at the pizzeria. Cindy had tagged along, and they’d shared a nice dinner. They’d made arrangements to travel to his parents’ home for lunch. Mom was keen to catch up with Cindy and meet Becky.

Becky hopped into the passenger seat of his truck and secured her seatbelt. “I like your church.”

“I’m glad. It’s you’re church now.”

“Not for long. I’m heading home in June.”

He switched on the engine, and the reality of her words sank in. This friendship, this thing happening between them, had an expiry date. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He drove along Main Street, passing familiar landmarks. He had an expiry date on attending his church in Gilead, too.

He pulled into a parking space around the corner from Cindy’s church. They had a few minutes before the service would end.

Becky turned toward him. “Please tell me about your parents. What do I need to know?”

He lowered his window a few inches. “Mom is great. You’ll like her. She’s heard glowing things about you from my family at the ranch.”

“Okay. And your dad. What’s he like?”

He blew out a long breath. “Dad is more complicated. He was badly injured in a mill accident when I was kid.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice softened and she shifted in her seat, meeting his gaze. “Did he recover from his injuries?”

“Physically, yes. He’s had a lifelong struggle with depression and anxiety.”

“That’s hard.”

He nodded. The burden of Dad’s mental health issues had fallen on Mom’s weary shoulders. “We lived at the ranch for a few years after his accident. Aunt Lori homeschooled me with my cousins while Mom worked as a nurse.”

“That makes sense. I’d wondered if you’d lived at the ranch.”

“The ranch is my home.” He might as well share his plans with her. Better for Becky to hear them from him than from his parents. “I’d like to move there later this year.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow. You’re leaving Gilead.”

“That’s the plan. Time for a change and all that. Not many people know.”

She nodded. “My lips are sealed. It’s an exciting move for you. Will you still work as a farm mechanic?”

“Probably.” One of the many details he’d need to iron out. “I’d base myself at the ranch and see if there’s work available.”

“This might be your last year volunteering for the play.”

“Yup.” He’d helped with the crew for seven years in a row. He’d keep his Colorado plans under wraps until they were set in stone.

“They’ll miss you.”

“I can drive back at Easter and watch the play.”

“True.” She smiled. “I don’t regret volunteering.”

He nodded. The play was the connection that had drawn them together. Becky was diligent and hard working. She took her volunteer role seriously, and he could count on her. That meant a lot. An attractive trait that made the prospect of kissing her more appealing. He shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her. Except they were alone in his truck, and he was drawn to her like an invisible magnet, an undeniable attraction he tried to put out of his mind.

Cindy waved and settled in the back seat. They made good time in driving to his parents. The girls talked and talked, and he was content to listen. Cindy had brought along a cloth bag full of books for Mom that she’d collected from the ranch. Their mothers swapped paperbacks on a regular basis, using Cindy as their free carrier pigeon.

He pulled into the driveway behind Mom’s hatchback. The girls went indoors ahead of him, and he unpacked his tools. Dad hadn’t opened up the garage at the back. Was he having a bad day and still in bed? Sometimes Dad struggled to get up and moving until early afternoon or later. Dad usually made an effort on Sundays, despite having a list of excuses longer than the road from Gilead to avoid attending Sunday morning church with Mom.

Sam carried his toolbox around the back to the deck. Mom had fired up the grill. Burgers were probably on the menu. He hoped Cindy had warned Mom that Becky was fussy with food. Last night, Becky had ordered pizza with spinach on it. Green stuff on pizza was wrong, but they’d agreed to disagree. Again.

“Sam.” Mom walked into his arms and hugged him close. “It’s so good to see you.”

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