My Sweet Enemy Rancher by Emma Sutton

Author:Emma Sutton [Sutton, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Walker

Speeding my way across the ranch to check on the stock ponds on the far side of the grassland, I hear Sophie bark from where she races behind me, hot on my trail and gaining speed.

Turning the gas to carry me faster, I can’t scrub my most recent image of Hattie out of my mind. Her hair was down, wavy as if it’d been drying from a nighttime shower. Her silky bare legs shone the flames dancing off of them. The delicate yet vulnerable sound of her mandolin against the humming of the fire.

Whether she meant to or not, she took my breath away last night. Just like she had the day before and the day before that. Just like she’ll probably do for the rest of my life now that I’ve opened that part of my heart to the possibilities of something more with her.

It’s not until I glance up and see Mary Jo waving me in from where she sits on her front porch that I realize how forward that sounds. Had I just imagined spending the rest of my life with Hattie?

Even though it’d only been two weeks since I started seeing her regularly, the answer is a resounding and embarrassing yes. But a yes, nonetheless. And as positive as that might be in my own book, I wouldn’t dare tell that to anyone else. At least not yet.

Mary Jo stands and continues beckoning me as I veer the ATV to the left, slowing considerably.

Sophie keeps on spinning by, her attention now stolen by the wandering flock of chickens that strut just on the other side of the Paisley Barn.

“Aye, aye,” I say, throwing the four-wheeler into park right in front of the widespread flower beds that wrap her entire house. “How’s it going, Mary Jo?” I remove my hat and wipe the sweat from my hairline using the collar of my T-shirt.

“Hey, honey. It’s a hot one today, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Doesn’t help that we haven’t had a good rain in a few weeks.”

“The dark clouds’ll be rolling in soon enough,” she says with a shake of her fist. And I can’t help but think she’s talking about a whole different type of storm system with this one.

“What’s happening your way?” I ask, climbing the wooden stairs, happy to be under the momentary cover of shade.

“Have a seat, Walker, won’t you? Just for a minute.” She sits in the white rocking chair closest to the front door. “That Sophie sure does have her own kind of play with those cluckers.”

“Yes, ma’am, she does. She’s a wild one but loves it here on the farm.” I take the seat next to her and start rocking, though the lack of breeze today makes me even hotter than I was cruising around out on the four-wheeler in the midday sun.

“She’s allowed to be wild. We like her that way,” MJ grins, patting her lap with open hands. “Besides that, she’s not anymore a wildling than the rest of ‘em.

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