Free The Pioneer Woman by Ree Drummond Page A

Focused.
    â€œAnd I just flat don’t want you to leave,” he declared, holding me close, resting his chin on my cheek, speaking directly into my ear.
    I paused. Took a breath. “Well—” I began.
    He interrupted. “I know we’ve just been doing this for two weeks, and I know you’ve already made your plans, and I know we don’t know what the future holds, but….” He looked at me and cupped my face in his hand, his other hand on my arm.
    â€œI know,” I agreed, trying to muster some trite response. “I—”
    He broke in again. He had some things to say. “If I didn’t have the ranch, it’d be one thing,” he said. My pulse quickened. “But I…my life is here.”
    â€œI know,” I said again. “I wouldn’t….”
    He continued, “I don’t want to get in the middle of your plans. I just…” He paused, then kissed me on the cheek. “I don’t want you to go.”
    I was tongue-tied as usual. This was so strange for me, so foreign—that I could feel so strongly for someone I’d known for such a short time. To talk about our future would be premature; but to totally dismiss that we’d happened upon something special wouldn’t be right, either. Something extraordinary had occurred between us—that fact was indisputable. It was the timing that left so much to be desired.
    We were both bleary eyed, tired. Falling asleep standing up in each other’s arms. Nothing more could be said that night; nothing could be resolved. He knew it, I knew it; so we settled on a long, lasting kiss and an all-encompassing hug before he turned around and walked away. Starting his diesel pickup. Driving down my parents’ street. Driving back to his ranch.
    I couldn’t think; bed was all I could manage. I crawled under the covers with a faint lump in my throat. What is that doing there? Go away, stop it. Leave me alone. I hate crying. It makes my head hurt. Makes my eyes puffy. The lump was suddenly twice the size. I couldn’t swallow. Then, against my wishes, the tears began to roll just before I fell into a deep, deep sleep.
    Â 
    M Y PHONE rang at eight the next morning, startling me from my coma.
    â€œHello, Ree?” the pleasant female voice said. It wasn’t Marlboro Man.
    â€œYes?” I responded. I smelled Marlboro Man’s delicious scent. Even in his absence, he was all around me.
    â€œThis is Rhonda,” the voice continued. “I’m just calling about your one-bedroom on Goethe?”
    It was a great place, close to where my older brother lived. White paint, wood floors, good location. Nothing overly large or fancy, judgingfrom the photos they’d sent, but so perfect for what I needed. I’d plunked down a healthy deposit on the place as soon as it became available the week before my brother’s wedding, knowing I’d be up there within the month. Reasonably priced for what it was, the apartment would soon be my home, my haven, my New Jerusalem. Tiny as it was. There was plenty of room for all of my black pumps, plenty of room for a comfy bed. And no room whatsoever for a boy.
    But my original move-in date had come and gone. I was stalling, delaying, putting off the inevitable. Swapping kisses with a cowboy. Dying daily in his arms.
    â€œAre you still planning to move in this week?” Rhonda the Realtor continued. “Because we’ll need to go ahead and get your first month’s rent as soon as possible.”
    â€œOh.” I sat up. “I’m so sorry; I’ve been packing and getting ready to go, and it’s gone a little more slowly than I thought.”
    â€œOh, no problem,” she said. “That’s fine. We’ll just need it by the end of this week, otherwise we’ll have to let the place go, as a few other people are interested.”
    â€œOkay, thanks for calling,” I replied. “See you