Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
My heart began to thump unevenly in my chest. My father had left the company to me for a reason. There was so much that would forever go unspoken between us, but in the end, he hadn’t written me off entirely. He’d given me one last chance to prove to him and to myself who I was. What I was capable of. What I really wanted.
And I would… just as soon as I was absolutely sure what it was.
23
BOONE
I read the words Richard had written again, but they didn’t make any sense. He had left? Why? When? I grabbed for my phone and tried calling him. Straight to voicemail. I hung up and tried again. Same thing.
I stared at my phone, not knowing what to do. Oscar, I thought. I immediately called him. He answered and said without preamble, “Who in their right mind dates a divorce attorney and expects it to work out?”
I didn’t have time to hear about Oscar’s latest dating exploits. “He’s gone,” I interrupted, cutting him off.
“Who’s gone?”
“Richard.” I started to pace Richard’s small room. “I don’t know what happened. I thought there was something between us. I thought he really cared about me. That maybe we could make this thing work. But the day before yesterday, there was a fence break, and I had to go deal with it, and while I was away… he left.”
“Of course he left,” Oscar said, his voice matter-of-fact.
I paused in my pacing, my eyes going wide. “Really? You’re going to choose now to say I told you so? I mean, you did tell me so. Fine. Okay. You were right. You warned me all about him. You said he was a flake and a tease and a lazy layabout who flitted from lark to lark. But that’s not who Richard was when he was here. He was a damn hard worker. And a fast learner. I had to take him out to search for some missing heifers, and you should have seen him cutting the herd with me. I only had to show him once, and he got it. And he embroidered fly masks for the horses. And I…” My voice cracked just slightly before I steadied it. “I thought he was happy here, Oscar. I thought he was happy with me. But I guess he wasn’t because now he’s gone.”
“Orrrrr…” Oscar said, drawing out the word. “He could be gone because his dad died.”
I froze. “What?” I breathed.
“Richard’s dad passed away two nights ago. The memorial is later today. I assumed you knew.”
My legs felt weak. I stumbled to Richard’s bed and sat. His familiar scent wafted up around me, a combination of high-end skin care products, fancy soap, and styling gel. It made my stomach twist with longing.
Richard’s dad had died? Why hadn’t he told me?
Sure, Richard’s relationship with his father had been tumultuous, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t love there. That was the whole problem: because Richard still loved his father, he couldn’t just walk away. I thought about the pain in his voice whenever he’d talked about his father and their relationship. I remembered how raw his need was for his father’s approval. Now, his father was dead. I couldn’t imagine what Richard had to be going through.
Fuck. I wanted to be with him. The desire to hold him and comfort him was physically painful.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Oscar was silent a moment. “You have it bad for him, don’t you?”
I let my head fall into my hand, using my fingers to massage my temples. “Yeah. I really do. I thought…” My throat ached, and I had to swallow several times before I could finish. “I thought he was the one.”
“I’m sorry, Boone.”
I let out a huff of laughter. “I think what you meant to say was, ‘I told you so.’”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Oscar protested.
“But it’s true,” I said. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen. I should have known the minute he got out of Hank Picoe’s truck that he wasn’t meant for a place like this and a man like me.” I noticed that Richard still had clothes hanging in the closet, and I stood and walked toward them. I reached for one of the hangers, laughing when I realized it was covered in velvet. The man had brought his own fancy-ass hangers!
I pulled the shirt free, letting the silky material slide across my fingers. The feel of it reminded me of Richard, all smooth perfection.
“I mean, you should see the clothes he left behind. All of it inappropriate for life on a ranch. My life is Levi’s and Wranglers while his is…” I glanced at the tag on a pair of jeans on the next hanger. “Dussault.”
“It’s pronounced do-SO, not DU-salt,” Oscar said, immediately correcting my bungled pronunciation.
“Regardless, they’re hideous.”