The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,111

office and let the phone ring. It was too early for anyone to be in, but if he didn’t call now, he’d forget. They’d call him back, and the appointment would get set.

“Hey, this is Ward Glover. I need to come in for my annual physical and do a check on everything. Can you call me back to set up an appointment?” He left his number and once again hung up.

He stood and left the pictures on the back half of the dining room table. He, Mister, and Judge hadn’t had any problems using the table with everything where it was, so he’d left it.

Ward went through the living room to the sliding glass doors that led onto the back porch. His guitar stood next to the exit, and he picked it up on his way out.

He sat in the chair on the edge of the porch and settled the guitar across his lap. He plucked the strings, the sun just barely starting to rise over the eastern edge of Texas. He’d finished the music for the song he’d been working on for the past few months, and he’d completed the lyrics last night too.

Now, he just needed to perfect the song before he sang it for Dot.

He’d spoken to her every day since New Year’s Day, when she’d come out of the bedroom where she’d slept the night after their private New Year’s Eve party at Bull House. They’d gone to breakfast—which was more like brunch—and she’d shown him around her office at From the Ground Up.

She’d been working steadily since then, as had Ward, but he made a point to text or call her every single day. The next time she came up to Shiloh Ridge with a load of gravel, he was going to ask her to marry him.

He just needed to get all the pieces in place, and for the first time in his life, he prayed that the gravel would take its sweet time arriving.

“She braids her silver hair before leaving the house,” he sang, holding onto some notes and rushing right past others. “And she has no idea that she shines like the stars.”

Ward had never loved anyone the way he loved Dot, and a smile touched his heart, soul, and face as he thought of her.

“She thinks no one sees her,

That she can disappear as easily as a light goes out.

She thinks her past defines her,

That she can’t overcome the loss and pain and disappointment.”

His voice increased with each word on the last part, and his fingers knew exactly when to hit the strings hard and when to back off to create a high and low in the music.

“She’s wrong, because he sees her.

He wants to call her,

He wants to know her,

He dreams of the silver between his fingers,

And the touch of her smile against his,

And the sound of her truck as she drives down his street.”

He played the bridge notes, the part of the song that connected one part to another, in this case the chorus back to the verse.

“She always drives away

When she should stay,

Because he wants for-ev-er with her.”

He drew in a breath while his fingers slid, played a chord, and held it.

“He wants forever with her.”

Ward let his fingers finish the song without his voice, because that was all he was going to sing during the proposal. He glanced up as Mister came out onto the porch, but since his cousin said nothing, Ward played all the way through the end of the tune before stopping.

“That’s amazing,” Mister said. “Are you gonna sell that one to Nashville?”

“No,” Ward said.

“He’s gonna ask Dot to marry him with it,” Ranger said, and both Ward and Mister turned to the right where his voice had come from. He was cutting across the back lawn, his baby boy in his arms. “I heard you playing and came back here.” He came up the back steps, and Ward stood to put the guitar down so he could take Wilder from his brother.

“Morning, brother.” Ward hugged Ranger, who held him tight for an extra moment. There was something going on with him, but Ward usually let Ranger come to him and tell him things over prying and asking.

“Morning,” Ranger said. “I’m surprised you’re not out on the ranch already.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Ward said, stepping back and taking his nine-month old nephew from Ranger. “Preacher takes the early crews on Tuesday.” He sat back down and sighed as he gazed out into the golden sunlight. “Look, Wilder,