That kind of commitment didn’t leave a lot of room for relationships, except the short-term, meaningless kind. The past year and a half had changed that. No more travel, no practice, and although there was always something to do on the ranch, he was used to that. Those who succeeded in the business of ranching were good at prioritizing, and he and his mom had a pretty good handle on it. That had given him more time to think, more time to wonder about the future, and for the first time in his life, he sometimes finished his day yearning for someone to talk to over dinner, other than his mom.
While it didn’t dominate his thoughts, he couldn’t deny the urge to try to find someone. The only problem was that he hadn’t the slightest idea how to go about doing such a thing… and now that he was riding again, he’d gotten busy and distracted.
Then, out of the blue and when he’d least expected it, he’d met Sophia. Although he’d spent most of the morning thinking about her and wondering what it would feel like to run his hands through her hair, he suspected it wouldn’t last. They had nothing in common. She was in college – studying art history, of all things – and after graduation, she’d move away to work in a museum in some faraway city. On its face, they had no chance at all, but the image of her sitting in the bed of his truck under the stars kept replaying in his mind, and he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that they could somehow make it work.
He reminded himself that they barely knew each other and that he was probably reading too much into it. Nonetheless, he had to admit he was nervous at the prospect of her visit.
After chopping the firewood, he straightened up around the house and rode the Gator out to turn off the irrigation, then made a quick trip to the store to restock the fridge. He wasn’t sure if she’d come inside, but if she did, he wanted to be prepared.
Even as he got into the shower, though, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Lifting his face into the spray, he wondered what on earth had gotten into him.
At a quarter past one, Luke was sitting in a rocker on the front porch of his home when he heard the sound of a car slowly pulling up the long dirt drive, dust rising into the treetops. Dog was at his feet, next to the cowboy boots Luke had found in his mom’s closet. Dog sat up, his ears cocked before glancing at Luke.
“Go get ’em,” he urged, and Dog immediately trotted off. Luke grabbed the boots and stepped off the porch onto the grass. He waved his hat as he approached the main drive, hoping she’d spot him through the shrubbery that lined the drive. Heading straight would lead her to the main farmhouse; to get to his place, she’d need to turn off through an opening in the trees and follow a worn grassy track. It was hard to spot unless you knew where it was, and it would have benefited from some gravel surfacing, but that was yet another item on the to-do list he’d never quite gotten around to. At the time, he hadn’t thought it all that important, but now, with Sophia approaching and his heart beating faster than usual, he wished he had.
Thankfully, Dog knew what to do. He’d run ahead and was standing in the main drive like a sentry until Sophia brought the car to a stop, then he barked authoritatively before trotting back toward Luke. Luke waved his hat again, eventually catching Sophia’s attention, and she turned the car. A moment later, she pulled to a stop beneath a towering magnolia tree.
She stepped out, wearing tight faded jeans that were torn at the knees, looking as fresh as summer itself. With almost catlike eyes and faintly Slavic bone structure, she was even more striking in sunlight than she’d been the night before, and all he could do was stare at her. He had the strange feeling that in the future, whenever he thought about her, this would be the image he recalled. She was too beautiful, too refined and exotic, for this country setting, but when she broke into that wide, friendly smile, he felt something clear inside, like the sun breaking through the mist.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called out as she closed the door, sounding nowhere near as nervous as he felt.
“It’s all right,” he said, replacing his hat and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I made a wrong turn and had to backtrack a bit. But I had a chance to drive around King.”
He shuffled his feet. “And?”
“You were right. It’s not all that fancy, but the people are nice. An old guy on a bench got me headed in the right direction,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said, finally looking up.
If she could tell how unnerved he was, she gave no sign. “Did you finish all you needed to get done?”