The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,45
grinning at him.
“This is a song I wrote about five years ago, and I sold it to Columbia Records. They gave it to Carrie Underwood.”
Dot’s eyes widened at the same time her heart started booming in her chest. “You’re kidding.”
“Do you listen to country music in all its forms?” he asked. “The rock, the pop, the more twangy, traditional stuff?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Then you’ll probably recognize this.” He stopped playing and looked down at the neck of the guitar. A moment later, he started to play, and Dot could tell the difference. Every note sat in exactly the right place, and his fingers moved effortlessly along the strings.
She recognized the first strains of the song, and awe streamed through her that the man in front of her had written this tune. She knew the words, and Ward came in right on time. She’d imagined his voice to be a deep bass, but it wasn’t. He sang tenor, and Dot sighed and closed her eyes to experience the music in its purest form.
When he finished, and the last reverberations of his guitar still hung in the air, Dot started clapping. She opened her eyes and grinned at him, finding him even more attractive than she had previously.
Her attraction to him went deeper than just how beautiful the man was. He had a good heart, and plenty of talent, and some skills in the kitchen she sure did like. “That was amazing,” she said. “Seriously, Ward, I have no idea how your mind works like that.”
He seemed to have a glow about him as he set his guitar next to the hearth. He smiled back at her and extended his hand toward her. She leaned forward and put her hand in his. “I’m going crazy in this room,” he said. “Do you want to see the office?”
“I snooped in there, remember?”
“It has huge windows,” he said. “We can pretend we’ll be able to leave this dang house.”
“Ah, someone doesn’t like being inside all the time.”
“Do you?” he challenged.
“Not at all,” she admitted. He secured her hand in his and gently tugged her to go with him. “How many songs have you sold to big country stars?”
“Uh, let’s see.” He didn’t count on his fingers this time, and Dot found him absolutely adorable. “I haven’t done it for a while, since becoming foreman. But for a while there, I was selling every song I wrote.”
“Dozens?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Probably thirty or forty.”
“I just can’t…I don’t know what to say.”
Ward smiled at her as they entered the office through the double-wide French doors. A couch sat in front of the massive desk, and she saw a guitar stand there as well. “By the way, we’re doing a family caroling event at eleven-thirty. I’m playing the guitar. You can…you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Dot said. She wanted to participate in all areas of Ward Glover’s life. “Do you guys normally go caroling?”
“No,” he said. “We just sing either before or after our big family meal on Christmas Day. We usually take down the angel tree, but Etta texted to say she thinks we should leave it up a few extra days because of the storm. So we’ll go take it down then.”
“Is that a family event too?”
“Usually,” he said.
“Do you guys do everything as a family?”
“No,” he said. “We have some big things—traditions, like most families. Other stuff is way more loose, especially as the family grows.”
“Like…?”
“Like Sunday dinner,” he said. “Sometimes Bear will say he doesn’t want a crowd at the homestead. If someone wants to cook, we’ll meet at True Blue. If someone doesn’t, we make our own Sabbath meal.”
“Who cooks for the whole family?” Dot couldn’t comprehend that either. Of course, she couldn’t even make her own meals, let alone enough food to feed dozens of people.
“Bishop loves it,” he said. “He’s my youngest cousin. He actually won the Christmas cake bake-off this year.” He released her hand and rounded the desk to sit down. “I’m the treasurer for this program I’ve been doing for a while. Cowboys Provide Christmas?” He raised both eyebrows and met her gaze.
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“It’s a great organization,” Ward said, his voice slipping into a somewhat more professional tone. “Cowboys from ranches around Texas provide Christmas for other cowboys and ranches and their families also in Texas.”
“I’m assuming you provide and not receive.” She perched on the edge of the couch, refusing to remove her eyes from his.