The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,112

there’s a bird.” He pointed to the black, nearly flat M in the sky, but the baby just babbled to himself.

“When are you going to propose?” Mister asked.

“I don’t know,” Ward said.

“Do you have a ring?” Ranger asked.

“I ordered it,” Ward said. “It said three to five days, so probably by the weekend.”

“You ordered an engagement ring?” Mister asked.

“You can buy anything online now,” Ranger said. “I need some help with the language on the update.” He handed Ward his phone and pulled over another patio chair. “I don’t want it to be too harsh, but it has to be super clear that we’re not a dating website or app.”

Ward scanned the message on Ranger’s phone. “Is it going to look like this?” He glanced up.

Ranger nodded. “That’s the design, yes.”

A row of horses ran along the top of the message, stark black silhouettes against the white pop-up window. “Two Cents is not a dating app. The app or anyone affiliated with its creation is not responsible for meetings, phone number exchanges, flirtatious comments, or anything that may arise from them. See our Fair Use Policy here, and our Privacy Policy here. If someone leaves a comment that goes against our Community Standards (found here), please report it using the Help button in the right menu.”

Ward read over it again, aware that Ranger wanted his opinion. He tried to find the flaws, but he didn’t know legal language. “What did Michelle say?”

“This is what she came up with. I want it to sound…normal. Not like a lawyer wrote it. Can you understand it?”

“Easy to understand, yes,” Ward said. “Two Cents is not a dating app, and if people want to exchange numbers or leave comments to get a date, that’s fine as long as everything being said follows the Community Standards.”

“Right.” Ranger took the phone back from Ward, who leaned down and snuggled Wilder.

“Did you have a bath this morning, bud?” he asked. “You smell good.”

“He did have a bath last night,” Ranger said, smiling at his son. “Oakley is already talking about having another baby.” He sighed like this was the worst thing that could happen to him.

“Why do you not sound happy about that?” Mister asked.

“It…cost us a great deal to get Wilder,” Ranger said. “I’m worried about what the price will be for a second child.”

Ward simply watched Ranger, as the man let trouble roll across his expression before he snuffed it out. Ranger wasn’t talking in monetary terms, but emotional ones. Spiritual ones. Mental ones. And for Oakley, physical ones, as she’d suffered through a miscarriage before being able to maintain her pregnancy with Wilder.

The three of them sat there and watched the sun rise, the baby as happy as can be on Ward’s lap. His phone rang, and he pulled it out from his back pocket to find Dot’s name on the screen.

He handed Ranger’s son back to him, stood, and swiped on the call. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Guess what I have on my lot?” she said in a sing-song voice.

Ward’s heart fell to his boots and then started thrashing its way back to the right spot in his chest. “My gravel.” He turned and faced Ranger. He shook his head, though a smile stretched across his face.

“Your gravel, cowboy.” She drew in a breath and sighed it out. “Unfortunately, I’m pretty booked out on scheduling deliveries.”

“That’s no problem,” he said, relief filling him. He’d like to have the ring before he proposed. He’d also like to have hundreds and hundreds of her favorite flowers—which he’d have to order in from California—and a big red bow to tie on Brutus. He needed to make a plan with Ranger, Bear, Bishop, Mister, and Judge to keep Dot away from the dump truck for a little bit while he prettied it up and got his guitar.

“What does next Wednesday look like for you?”

“Next Wednesday is fine,” he said. “Tell me what time.”

“Well, if I schedule you second, that’s my delivery right before lunch, and maybe we can spend a couple of hours together.”

“I like the way that sounds,” he said, grinning at his family members.

“I should be up there by eleven,” she said.

“Eleven,” he repeated. “Next Wednesday.”

“Yep.” She popped the P and giggled.

“What about dinner tonight?” he asked, turning away from Mister and Ranger now. “I haven’t seen you in a few days, and I’d love to take you somewhere nice.”

“How about somewhere with my parents?” Dot asked. “It’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow, but I have that webinar on