The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,20
“I’m not beautiful, Ward. I’m manly. I have these boxy shoulders and hair that’s fifteen different colors. It’s wispy if I let it grow too long, and my nose is way too big.”
“So is mine,” he said.
“Fits your face though.”
“And yours fits yours.”
“Ward,” a man said, and Ward jumped away from Dot as if he’d been electrocuted by the voice. Dot looked past him too, catching sight of Bear Glover. “Sorry. Hey, Dot. Uh, the tornado sirens are going off. Mother put on the radio, and they’re calling a severe storm warning for the next several hours. Winds up to eighty miles per hour. Snow coming earlier than they thought.”
“Okay,” Ward said.
“I should go,” Dot said.
“We’re splitting up early,” Bear said. “Everyone’s headed home to shelter so they’ll be in their own beds. Ace is taking your mother; Bishop is taking mine.”
Ward strode out of the bathroom. “What do I need to do?”
“Go home,” Bear said. “Make sure you have wood. Check the gas on your generator. Preach, Judge, and Mister left.”
“What about my dog?” Dot asked, her panic rising up. “Mister left to get my dog.” She joined the two men in the foyer as Ace helped his mother out the front door.
“See you, Bear,” Ace said. “Bye, Ward.”
“See ya,” Ward said. “What about Etta? Have you heard from Ida?”
“Ida’s good,” a woman said as she headed for the open door. A chill had worked its way into the house, and Dot shivered. “She texted us girls to find out where we all were.”
“She just went home today,” Ward said.
“She’ll be okay,” another man said, and Dot recognized Ranger too. He came down the steps with a baby in his arms, and he smiled at Dot. “Hey, Dot.”
“Hello.” She wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands, and the urge to get back to Brutus and then home to her familiar surroundings drove her to take a step toward the front door. “I should go, Ward.”
George barked at the same time Ward looked at her. “You can’t go,” he said.
“I agree,” Bear said. “You’ll never make it back in this weather.”
“The sirens are going off right now,” Ranger said.
Dot looked at the three of them, then crouched down to scrub George’s face between her hands. “What should we do, bud? Huh?”
“Do you think Brutus can make it down the road to my house?” Ward asked, joining her in a crouch. He too stroked George, and the dog’s eyes closed in bliss. Ward kept his head down, his cowboy hat concealing his face. “I’ve got loads of food and four empty bedrooms.” He met her eye, and something like lightning struck her straight in the chest.
“Okay,” she said.
Ward stood up and extended his hand toward her. Dot had the very real feeling that if she took it, she’d be sealing her fate, whether good or bad.
She slipped her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. “Come on, George,” she said, barely glancing at the other Glovers still in the foyer. “We only have to go a little further.”
Chapter Seven
Ward felt like his brain was bouncing against his skull. “My word,” he said. “This is like getting blended up.” His teeth knocked together as Dot continued the pilgrimage down the lane Ward couldn’t see. Not only was Brutus’s front end massive, but the wind had blown loose dirt into the air from all over the ranch, mixing it with the snow that had started to fall in earnest.
Dot said nothing as the truck bounced along, but the tightness in her white knuckles spoke volumes.
“Right there,” Ward said. “See my truck?”
“You don’t park in the garage?”
Annoyance sang through Ward, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. “Not today,” he said. “I was in a rush, and I figured I’d pull it in later.” The need to do so now rang like a gong in his ears, and he could barely hear Dot’s next question.
Several seconds passed as he struggled to comprehend what she’d asked. “Yes,” he finally said. “We have firewood. We might have to bring it in, but we’ve got lots.”
“I can build a mean fire,” she said.
“Okay.” Ward couldn’t settle down and make his mind focus on any single thought. Instead, they raced through his mind, everything from what he could feed to Dot for dinner, to what the guest bathroom looked like, to whether or not the guest bedrooms were made up.