Summertime on the Ranch, Carolyn Brown [ebook reader with highlighter txt] 📗

times, he just curled up and took an hour-long nap, or else ran around the town, checking out the female mutts and hiking his leg on every bush he could find.

“His fur is kind of soft. I figured it would feel like steel wool,” Becca admitted as she got to her feet. “You’re not going to make him walk all the way back to the ranch, are you?”

“Naw,” Dalton drawled. “I’ll park under that big old pecan tree in Miss Greta’s yard, and he can sleep in the truck bed. I thought you hated him.”

“I don’t hate Tuff,” Becca protested. “I just don’t want any of his hair to get loose and taint my wine.”

Greta hung back and talked to her friends. Dalton ushered Becca outside with a hand on the small of her back. She could feel the burn all the way through her body, and her palms were sweaty when it was her turn to shake with the preacher.

“I’m glad to see y’all sitting together this mornin’,” the preacher said and then dropped her hand. “And Tuff was such a good boy. You can tell him he’s welcome at services anytime. I shook hands with him a few minutes ago, and I believe he’s headed out to your truck.”

“I’ll tell him.” Dalton stuck out his hand next. “Good sermon this morning.”

“It’s that time of year when young folks are planning summer weddings, so they need to think about what it truly means to be in love.” The preacher winked.

“Yes, sir,” Dalton nodded. “See you next week.”

“Did you really listen to the sermon?” Becca asked. “Or were you just saying something nice.”

“It was all about what it’s like to fall in love, right?” Dalton stopped beside her car and opened the door for her.

“So, Dalton Wilson, how many times have you been in love?” She slid behind the wheel.

“I might have to take my boots off to count that far,” he answered.

“I mean in real love, not lust,” she said.

“Well, in that case…” He closed his eyes as if trying to count. “That would be one time.” No way was he admitting that the time was right now. The woman was Becca, and it had been love at first sight. “How about you? Give me a number.”

“Lust a few times. Love, never. I was too busy concentrating on getting a music contract to let a man into my heart and life,” she said.

“You going back to that anytime soon?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I gave it my best for ten years, and it didn’t work. It’s time to leave that dream behind and move on.”

“To what?” he asked.

“Right now, making wine. I’m enjoying the work, and I’ve even entertained notions of putting in a vineyard of my own,” she answered.

“There’s lots of good sandy land to do that around here,” he suggested.

“Hey, are you two about starved?” Greta yelled as she started down the stairs.

In a few long strides, Dalton was beside her and had looped her arm in his. “Here, Miz Greta, let me help you, and yes, I’m starving. I didn’t have time to eat breakfast, so I might be just about to embarrass Becca.”

“I love a man with a good appetite.” Greta smiled up at him.

“That’s great, because I love good home cookin’,” he told her.

When Greta was settled and her seat belt fastened, Dalton went to his truck and followed them to the house. After he’d first met her at the watermelon farm, he’d driven around town until he spotted Becca’s little dark-blue car with its Tennessee license plate. That was another thing he’d never admit because it made him sound like a stalker.

Greta was out of the car and headed toward the porch by the time he got parked. He saw her lips moving, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying. From Becca’s expression and the way she rolled those big, beautiful green eyes, it was something that she didn’t really agree with.

“Hey,” Becca waved. “I’m supposed to tell you that it’s too hot for Tuff to spend the afternoon in the back of the truck, and you’re supposed to bring him inside. I hope he’s housebroken.”

“Of course he is, and he appreciates the offer.” Dalton gave a shrill whistle and Tuff bounded out of the back of the truck. Tail wagging and head held up, he marched right up on the porch and lay down in the shade. “He says that if he could have a bowl of water, he’d be right comfortable out here.”

“I believe we can manage that,” Becca said. “Come on in.”

The redbrick house had a wide-enough front porch to support a swing at one end. A white chaise lounge with bright-green pillows sat on the other end. A gentle summer breeze spread the scent of the red roses that grew across the front of the place.

Dalton followed Becca inside, removed his hat, and hung it on a hall tree right inside the door. “Nice place,” he said.

“We like it just fine. Daddy wanted Grammie to buy property down in Ringgold, but she checked the property taxes, and they were cheaper in Oklahoma.” Becca kicked her high heels off and slid them up under a ladder-back chair. “It’s only a five-minute drive down to Daddy’s ranch, so it’s not that big a deal unless it floods and they close the river bridge.”

“Becca, darlin’ girl, you can come on in here and make the salad,” Greta called out.

“I’m glad to help out.” Dalton followed her into the kitchen.

“Where’s Tuff?” Greta asked.

“He opted to protect the house from the front porch,” Dalton answered as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Good dog, that one,” Greta said. “Never know when we might get one of them salesmen or Bible-thumpin’ folks knockin’ on the door. Tuff has my permission to bite either of them on the arse.”

“If you will point me in the right direction, I’ll set the table.” Dalton rolled up his sleeves. “Been pettin’ Tuff, so I’ll need to wash up.