Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
“I’m glad that no one else was out here to watch you change your clothes.”
“I was quick,” I assure him as we slip on gloves, and then he takes my hand once we’re on a recently shoveled sidewalk. “I missed Bitterroot Valley so much. I love it when it snows like this, huge flakes that make the air feel still. It’s so quiet.”
“That’s because everyone’s at the fire hall,” he says with a smile. “But yeah, I know what you mean. Hey, you need to be on the inside.”
He shifts me to the other side of the sidewalk, away from the street.
“I hardly think that someone is going to jump the curb and take us out.”
“You never know,” is all he says in reply.
“I have to admit, I feel kind of guilty. You had just arrived and hadn’t taken more than ten steps inside, and then I monopolized you. You didn’t even get to see anyone else.”
“I didn’t want to be there in the first place,” he admits, shaking his head. “Missy wanted to go, and there was no way she was going to drive herself into town on snowy roads. It’s too dangerous.”
“So, you brought her so she could enjoy the time with her friends?”
“Yeah. It’s not easy being a ranch kid. You live so far out of town that you sacrifice a lot of time with friends if you can’t catch a ride. If I’m not busy, I’ll bring her. She didn’t ask to be born into a ranching family.”
“Don’t look now, but I’d say you’re pretty sweet, Mr. Wild.”
That makes him laugh as he leads me up the walkway to Old Town Pizza, which has been my favorite restaurant in town since I was a kid.
It’s warm and smells delicious inside when we walk through the door. Garlic and tomatoes hang heavy in the air, and we’re greeted with a happy smile by Heather, the hostess and daughter of the owner.
“Hi there, table for two?”
“Yes, please,” John says with a nod. “How are you, Heather?”
“Oh, I’m fine. It’s kind of bogus that I have to work tonight and didn’t get to go to the party with Melissa and Sarah Beth, but oh well.”
She shows us to a booth by the windows and sets menus in front of us.
“What can I getcha to drink?”
“Just water for me,” I reply.
“Me, too, for now,” John says before Heather hurries away. “What do you like on your pizza?”
“Pepperoni.”
He waits, and I shrug.
“That’s it?”
“What do you like?”
“Everything,” he says. “Okay, I know what we’re going to do. Here she comes.”
Heather sets our waters down and pulls out a notepad. “Since I’m alone in here tonight, except for my dad in the kitchen, I’ll take your order. What’ll you have?”
“Large deep dish,” John begins, “half pepperoni, half supreme. Breadsticks, too.”
“And a salad,” I put in. “With ranch.”
“You got it,” Heather replies. “Be back in a few.”
“It smells good in here,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t been in here in years. I always do takeout.”
“Me, too,” he says. “Now, enough of the small talk. I have questions.”
CHAPTER 3
JOHN
“What are your questions?” Joy asks as she watches me from across the table. She leans on her elbows and offers me that sweet smile, and I almost forget my own name. “John?”
That’s right, that’s it.
“Sorry,” I reply and clear my throat. “So, you work at the doctor’s office?”
“Yep.” She nods, and her hair bounces around her shoulders.
“What do you do for fun when you’re not at Jazzercise?”
“That’s not fun,” she says, shaking her head slowly back and forth as she fiddles with the straw in her water. “That’s just exercise. Let’s see, for fun? I like to read. I like to hike in the summertime.”
“Do you ski?”
She wrinkles her nose at that, and I can’t help but think that it’s adorable. Her nose has little, tiny freckles on it.
“No. I tried once, but I fell and broke my arm. It’s best if I stay off of skis. Do you do it?”
“Nah, no time. I work a lot.”
“Are you the kind of rancher that gets up before dawn and doesn’t eat dinner until after dark?”
“You just described every kind of rancher, sweetheart.”
She smiles and, if I’m not mistaken, blushes a little as Heather sets our pizza on the table, along with breadsticks and Joy’s salad.
“This looks amazing,” Joy says, breathing it in. “Smells so good.”
“You two dig in,” Heather says and sets a stack of napkins on the table. “If you need anything, just flag me down.”
“Thanks.” I set a slice of pepperoni on Joy’s plate, then take a piece of the supreme, and we enjoy our late dinner. We don’t even talk much at first because we’re both devouring the food in front of us.
Finally, when the pizza is nothing but a memory and we’re both full, Joy leans back and sighs.