“It turns out he was my first subscriber.”
A noise of outrage fumes from her. “That’s who beat me to it?”
“Guess so,” I laugh. “His truck is named after the color of my eyes.”
“Really?”
My gaze returns to her. “Mhmm, and he had a new bed delivered after the other one hurt my back.”
“That’s… very considerate.”
“You should’ve seen the breakfast spread he cooked for me yesterday morning.”
Either her stomach grumbles or there’s rain on the horizon. “Was it really good?”
“Better than a personal chef.” I smack my lips. “There was a no-strings massage included.”
She hammers the saddle horn. “Those exist?”
“Apparently,” I sigh wistfully. “And his hands are very strong. He got at the tough knots. Loosened me right up.”
“Brody needs to learn a thing or two.” Her eyes narrow on her husband riding beside Colton. “Such a slacker.”
My humor sobers. “When we first arrived at the house, I noticed that he’d planted daisies in the flowerbeds. It’s going to snow soon and they won’t last, but the message was clear. He wanted to make sure a piece of her was here waiting for me.”
“Oh.” Paisley covers her mouth with a shaky palm. “What an incredible tribute.”
“The Shasta type was her favorite. They’re the standard white and yellow. I’m more partial to pink gerberas. Although, blue is starting to grow on me. There’s a whole variety in the gardens.”
“It didn’t even occur to me when I was poking around earlier,” she mumbles.
“And the list goes on. If you need to get in the front door, my birthday is the code.”
Paisley grins. “Jeez, when’s the wedding?”
“That’s not funny. We’d already be hitched if it were up to him.”
“How do you feel?”
“I can’t be in love with him already,” I whine. But it doesn’t sound that far-fetched.
“Just follow your heart. Unless your gut makes a really solid argument against it.”
Which has me asking, “Want to hear something crazy?”
“Always,” she blurts.
“It’s kinda hot that he’s stalked me for years,” I say shamelessly. “Well… only because it’s him and I know he’s safe.”
“Right, of course.”
“The slight abduction to protect me from his creepy father isn’t that bad. I’m not actually his captive. He’s only my jailer because I allow it.” I peek over at her reaction.
My friend has a knowing look on her face. “Are you wanting me to excuse his behavior?”
“Not necessarily,” I mutter.
“Do you want permission to forgive him for it?”
