The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,77

him that. Maybe not everything had been said in words. But plenty had been said. She’d told his sister that she was falling in love with him, for crying out loud. When Ida had told her that, Dot hadn’t believed it.

But Ida had called and insisted, and Dot’s blurred, sugar-high memories had rushed forward. She couldn’t be responsible for what she’d said while nearly in a diabetic coma. Could she?

It didn’t matter if she could or not. She hadn’t lied, because she was falling in love with Ward Glover.

He sure does know it too, she thought.

She suddenly couldn’t breathe. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” She turned away from him and headed for the brides’ room where she’d changed earlier.

“Dot,” he said after her, but she kept going. She arrived in the room, the only one there, and stepped out of the stupid dress. She hated dresses, and tears formed in her eyes. All of the other ranch wives seemed to adore dresses. Dot would never fit in with them.

She sniffled as she stepped back into Arizona’s jeans. The fact that she didn’t have her own made her first tears fall. She didn’t have anything here she needed, and she just wanted to go home.

“Can’t I just go home right now, please?” she whimpered. She pulled the ponytail holders out of her hair and shook her head to get the curls to fall. She tugged on her work boots, the steel in the toes so heavy. She definitely wouldn’t be able to walk very far.

Just get back to Brutus, she told herself. She shrugged into her jacket and left the room. Ward hadn’t moved, and their eyes met across the distance.

“I’m fine, Ward,” she said. “Really.” She swiped at her eyes, a smudge of darkness coming off on her fingers.

“You’re not fine,” he said. “And you’re a bad liar.”

“Thanks so much,” she said sarcastically, brushing by him. Honestly, the man must enjoy rubbing salt in wounds.

She left the barn only to be greeted by crisp, winter air. She turned north, because she couldn’t really walk that far. Physical activity caused blood sugar to drop, and Dot already felt a little weak. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out three hard candies.

With them all in her mouth, she made the quick trek from the barn to Bull House. She gathered George, her faithful hound dog that hadn’t left her side for longer than five minutes during her blood sugar episodes, and together, they climbed up into Brutus.

Dot maneuvered over the seat to the back bench seat barely wide enough for a human to sit on. She normally just threw her trash back here, and she’d clean it out every once in a while. She hadn’t done that for a few weeks at least, so she had wadded up orders, soda bottles, empty granola bar wrappers, and even a sweatshirt she’d forgotten about.

She shook that out and rolled it up, making a little pillow for herself. She stretched out on her side and pulled her truck blanket over her body. She didn’t need to start Brutus up to keep warm. The sun shone on Texas today, and the little cab held plenty of heat for right now.

Dot stared at the back of the seat in front of her. “Why does he make me so crazy?” she whispered.

Up front, George huffed and shifted, finally circling to sit down.

“Can a relationship between us really work when we irritate the other so badly?”

The hound dog had no answers for her, and it sure seemed like the Lord was going to let Dot figure this one out on her own. Her head swam, and Dot tasted the butterscotch in her mouth.

She’d already eaten lunch. She’d dosed with insulin before that. Ward had skipped the dancing and gone straight to the kissing. Maybe that had burned through some blood sugar. She’d walked over here, and it had probably taken her fifteen minutes.

She sighed as she sat up and leaned over the seat—and George—to the glove box. She pulled out her glucose strips and tested her blood.

It was on the low end of normal, and Dot performed another bout of acrobatics to get a granola bar from the glove box. She ripped into that, forced herself to eat the whole thing though it tasted like cardboard, and then lay back down again.

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, her desire to go home increasing with every breath she took. Her skin felt like a