Путешествие Нильса с дикими гусями. Сельма Лагерлёф
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Savannah smiled as she pulled up behind Abby’s trailer to find her friend kicked back under the pullout shade with a big glass of lemonade.
“About time you got here, girlfriend,” Abby said as Savannah slid from her truck.
“Some of us have other jobs, oh, lady of leisure.”
Abby laughed and hopped up to give Savannah a hug. “Want some lemonade?”
“In a bit. Need to let Bluebell work out the kinks first.”
Abby followed her to the back of Savannah’s trailer. “You have a run on peach pies? That why you’re late?”
Savannah glanced at her friend. “Just for that, you don’t get any of the one I brought.”
“Now that’s just mean.”
Savannah laughed, feeling more of her stress sliding away as she opened the trailer and got Bluebell out on solid ground. She led the mare away from the cluster of trucks and trailers, and Abby fell into step beside her.
“I just had to make sure I’d taken care of everything before I left for the weekend. And then Dad called as I was trying to get out the door.”
“Still a thorn in your side?”
Savannah gave her friend an exasperated look. Abby had always thought the elder Baron should “take a chill pill.”
“He’s just frustrated because he can’t go to work. He’s bored.”
“Brock Baron and boredom. That’s a bad combo.”
While Savannah had to agree, she also felt as if she had to defend her dad. He might drive them all crazy in turns, might be a trifle too demanding, but he was a good father. Sometimes you just had to look a little deeper to find it under all the gruff exterior.
“As soon as he’s able to go back to work, things will get better.”
“When will that be?”
“Don’t know yet.” Not soon enough. “A break like that isn’t an easy thing at his age. To hear him tell it, the physical therapist is going to kill him first.”
After Savannah tied up Bluebell next to Abby’s blond mare, Rosie the Pivoter, she accepted a cold glass of lemonade and sank into the lawn chair next to Abby’s. As soon as she was seated, she laughed.
“What?”
“I just realized why you parked here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But the mischievous look on her face said otherwise.
Savannah snorted. “So you didn’t park strategically so you could check out every cowboy who strolls in and out of the barn?”
“Oh, I guess it is a good view.”
Savannah shook her head and took a big, refreshing drink of her lemonade. “So, when are you going to decide which of these guys you want to stick with?”
“And miss out on the fun of keeping them all guessing? You know, I could ask you the same thing, Miss Queen of the Peach Farm. You could have anyone you wanted, or maybe you’ve got your eye on a peach-picking farmer.”
Savannah gave a short laugh at the idea of falling for anyone who worked on the produce farm, even the entire ranch. They were too old, too young, or married. Well, Luke was good-looking, but she couldn’t imagine thinking of him as anything more than a friend.
“I have my hands full without throwing a guy in the mix.”
“Yeah, right. I saw you eyeballing Cannon Russell earlier.”
“Doesn’t hurt to look a little.” And Cannon, one of the bull riders, certainly wasn’t hard to look at. A long, lean, bull-riding machine. Of course, she wasn’t the only one looking. He always had a gaggle of buckle bunnies following him around like a swarm of mosquitoes looking for a taste.
Still, Savannah couldn’t stop looking at all the guys. She blamed her sister Lizzie. After all, how could she be around Lizzie and her fiancé, Chris, see how crazy in love they were and not be affected?
“I’d give him a seven.”
Savannah pulled herself back from her thoughts and shifted her gaze to Abby. “Seven? Are you blind? He’s at least an eight and a half, probably a nine.”
“I like to leave a bit of a window on the top end of the scale in case someone ever really knocks my socks off.”
They fell into assigning hotness numbers to every cowboy who walked by. When Abby started calling out the numbers loud enough that the cowboys in question could hear them, Savannah wanted to crawl under her hat. When Cannon strolled by and Abby hollered, “Seven and a half,” Savannah shushed her and swatted her on the arm. Abby just hooted.
Savannah shook her head and called out, “Don’t mind her. Tourette’s.”
Cannon laughed a little then headed off to talk with some of the other bull riders.
“I don’t know why I hang out with you,” Savannah said.
“Because you love me.”
“So you think.”
Abby laughed again and climbed into her living quarters to get ready for the evening’s ride. Savannah downed the rest of her lemonade before grabbing her bag to change clothes, too.
When they both emerged from the trailer, the grandstands were filling up and the smell of grilling hamburgers permeated the air. Savannah’s stomach growled, but she rarely ate anything close to when she was supposed to ride. Her dinner usually came in the slice of time between when she finished riding and the bull riding event started.
They headed toward the back curve of the arena next to the grandstands, chatting with other competitors along the way.
“Mmm-mmm, your boyfriend is looking good tonight.” Abby nodded toward where Cannon was standing with Liam Parrish, a former bronc rider who now ran the company that provided the rough stock and staff for the rodeo.
“You know, the way you keep finding him, I think you might be the one who has the hots for him.”
“Not gonna lie. I wouldn’t mind sampling his wares, but I’m not fighting the gauntlet of bunnies to do so.”
“Savannah?”
She turned at her name to see a good-looking man standing a few feet away. Tall, nicely built and wearing the ubiquitous cowboy hat, jeans and boots. But he wasn’t part of the rodeo. She’d been around rodeo