Her Christmas Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #5) - Jessica Clare Page 0,81
there ASAP.
AMY: No! It’s fine. I’m just fed up, that’s all. I did some searching. And can I ask for one more favor?
CALEB: Anything.
AMY: Will you teach me how to drive a stick shift?
CALEB: Of course.
AMY: Thank you. : )
She wasn’t going to be the same old Amy. Never again. If life threw curveballs at her, she’d figure out how to throw them back. She wouldn’t just duck and hope for someone else to take care of things. You didn’t grow like that. You didn’t learn. You didn’t thrive.
Amy was more than ready to thrive. So she got out every blanket, layered the bed with all of them, and put on her warm clothes and snuggled down in the mountain of linens and comforters with Donner. “We’re changing things up, you and I,” she whispered to him. “We’re going to become the best versions of ourselves.” She flipped around on her phone’s browser a little longer before typing in “bookstores near me” and seeing what came up.
After all, she had a few presents to buy for her cowboy.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Caleb couldn’t stop staring at her the next day. During the apartment walk-through, during the driving lesson afterward, he just stared at her. Just . . . stared.
After all, it was hard to look away when all your dreams were coming true.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Amy. About the way she’d tasted when she’d come. The way she’d felt when he was so deep inside her. The soft sounds she made when he pushed into her. The way she’d slept, cuddled up next to him as if she’d always belonged there. He watched her like a besotted idiot as he taught her how to drive a stick shift in his truck. It didn’t matter that she let the engine die at the same stop sign seven times in a row trying to figure out how to shift gears. He was endlessly patient. He could be, because he was spending time with her. Any time with Amy was good time spent.
Eventually, she managed to figure out the basics, and with a triumphant look, she got them to her place. “I did it!” she told him, crowing just a little.
“You absolutely did,” he told her, trying not to think about all the times the gears made terrible grinding noises as she figured things out. It was just a truck. Amy had done a terrific job and learned fast, a determined little scowl on her face as she shifted gears and tried to follow his instructions. “Want to order a pizza?”
“As long as we split the bill,” she told him with a proud flounce of her hair as she went to her porch. She got out the keys, unlocked the door, and went inside—and immediately smothered a happily wiggling Donner with kisses. “Who’s my best boy? Who is it? Is it you, old man?”
“With that kind of greeting, I was hoping it was me,” Caleb teased as he stepped in behind her, the box of gifts in his grip, a massive roll of paper tucked under his arm. Her place looked good, he thought, her tree festive and lit up, and he especially liked the new shiny lock on the door.
As he stepped inside, though, he frowned to himself. “Why’s it so damn cold in here?” His breath misted, and he noticed Donner was wearing a thick doggy sweater despite being in the house.
He scowled, setting the stuff down on the table. “You’re paying to live here. The heat shouldn’t be dead.”
“I know.” She rubbed Donner’s ears, oblivious to the chill. “This place is a shithole, like you said, so I’m going to move.”
“Ah.” So that explained the sudden apartment hunt. The place she’d looked at today wasn’t great. The inside was worn and the carpet so old that it was faded at the edges. The building was a large one and she’d be on the second floor, which meant stairs and noise, especially with a dog. Plus, she was further away from Painted Barrel, and he didn’t much like that.
But it wasn’t his decision. She loved the place, so she’d put in an application and had gushed to the girl in the office about how excited she was about moving. Anything had to be better than Greg’s place, Caleb had to admit. “Come stay with me tonight,” he told her. “It’s too cold here. You and Donner can curl up at my place.”