Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Ava’s smile grows. “Go on.”
I give her enough specifics to let her know I’ve given my proposal a lot of thought. I float the idea of Vance and me forming a veterinary care team unit that provides both clinical care and expertise in diet, training programs, and preventative medicine.
“Obviously, my main role will be performing surgeries as needed,” I say, wrapping up. “But I’d like to make that role a bit more dynamic by incorporating all these other elements. I’d like to flex my muscles a bit, be part of the action.”
Ava’s smile hasn’t wavered. “I love this idea, Sally. Really, truly love it. You make a very compelling case, especially considering I’ve witnessed you perform several miracles on our horses. It would be a dream to have you on our team.”
I flush, chest filling with excitement. “Thank you.”
“Let me chat with the Wallaces and get their thoughts. But you bet your bottom dollar that I’m gonna push hard for you. I know an opportunity when I see one, and talent like yours is a major opportunity for us. Thanks for bringing this to me, sincerely.”
We shake hands, and I leave the ranch feeling like a million bucks. Even if I don’t get the job, I’m still proud of myself for taking such a big swing. I’m learning that it’s the people who have the balls to ask for what they want who ultimately get it.
So I’m going to keep asking for what I want and hope for the best.
On the way home I get a call from Dad, asking for help at a small ranch that’s about twenty or so miles down the road. I head in that direction, and next thing I know it’s late afternoon, and I’m itching to get back home to Wyatt.
Will I ever not rush home to see him? If I leave now, I can probably grab a shower with him. Then we’ll hang out, maybe watch whichever serial killer documentary just came out on Netflix. Then we’ll make some dinner if we don’t feel like going to the New House.
And then, of course, we’ll get naked after that.
Yeah, life in Texas is good. Really, really good.
It’s almost four by the time our farmhouse comes into view. I smile when I see Wyatt’s truck parked out front. Only when I pull up beside it do I see that he’s in the front seat.
He’s wearing a cowboy hat, a denim jacket, and a knowing smirk I want to kiss right off his handsome face.
How is this my life?
He rolls down his window after I hop out of my car. “Get in.”
“What?” I say, laughing. “Why?”
“We’re gonna celebrate you gettin’ a job.”
Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t get a job. Yet.”
“But you will. What’d Ava say? That she couldn’t verbally give you an offer, but she sure as hell isn’t letting you slip through her fingers?”
“Something like that.” I blink. “You’re good.”
“Yep. Now get in.”
It’s all I can do not to giggle as I climb into his truck and immediately reach across the front bench to grab Wyatt’s shirt.
Yanking him to me, I hover my mouth an inch off of his and say, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How was your day?”
“Better now.”
We have this exact conversation every day. And every day, it makes me feel like I’m floating.
I kiss him, and he slides a hand onto my face and kisses me back. I love how we can still do this, shamelessly make out with each other, despite the fact that we’ve been dating since November and it’d be so much easier—simpler—to just skip straight to sex.
Wyatt, though, takes his time with me. Always has.
I’m the one to finally break the kiss. Falling back in my seat, I put on my seat belt. Wyatt presses a button on the dash, and the opening notes of “Yellow” by Coldplay fill the car.
I reach over to turn it up. “I love this song.”
“I know.”
“Where are we going?”
He puts the truck in drive. “You’ll see.”
I get a weird sense of déjà vu as Wyatt drives across the ranch. We’re heading to the river, I know that much.
He parks in our usual spot at the top of the bluff that overlooks the water. Above it, the sky is a kaleidoscope of colors—orange, neon coral, lavender, powder blue.
“I forgot what a perfect place this is to watch the sunset,” I say.
Wyatt reaches into the back seat and pulls out a six-pack of Cokes—glass bottles, naturally—and a fifth of Jack Daniel’s.
“Too cold to skinny-dip.” He pops the tops off a pair of bottles and takes a sip from one, then the other. “But figured we could get naked in the truck instead. Don’t worry, we’ll cuddle first.” He pats his lap.
The memory hits me—the afternoon I picked up Wyatt right after his parents died. I was listening to Coldplay that day. “Yellow,” if memory serves.