presence here at the ranch. Sure, Seth has mentioned a girlfriend here and there over the years, but I guess none of us really realized how serious things had gotten. Not to say we aren’t happy. I’m pleased as punch that Seth has finally found himself what appears to be a good woman.” Donna’s eyes settled on Josie once again in an assessment of that premature declaration. “But if you’re going to live at the ranch, there are some things we’ll expect of you—”
“I’m already working for my board, ma’am. With the wild horses Seth rescued.”
“I don’t expect you to work the ranch, Josie, but if that’s something you and Seth have already arranged, then that’s fine by me. I meant, I expect you partake in the important things like Thursday night family dinners. Coffee on the porch Sunday mornings before we all head to church together. Those are just a few of the many Ford traditions around here and now you’ll be a part of them.”
Seth hadn’t mentioned any of these prerequisites, but Josie supposed she’d never asked.
“And since today is Thursday, we’ll plan to see you two tonight at 6:00 sharp. Seth will know what to bring.”
Josie smiled. “I appreciate the invite, ma’am. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“It’s not an invite. Like I said, it’s an expectation.” Donna let herself out just as quickly as she’d shoved her way into Josie’s home, and with a flick of a dismissive wave over her shoulder, she added, “And I also expect you’ll have something on with just a touch more coverage.”
The way her stomach gurgled and roiled, Josie wondered if there had been something bad in the frozen burrito she wolfed down for lunch. She knew better of it. These were nerves, the buzzing, rumbling kind that threatened to twist her stomach contents in a cyclone and send them shooting back up and out.
Josie was already two chalky antacids in with little relief.
“Is it really worth it?” she asked her steam-coated reflection in the bathroom mirror. She knew it was. The horses needed her. She needed the land. Seth needed this farce of a relationship. But Josie wasn’t a performer. Her sisters—they were the dramatic ones, capable of emoting like silver screen actresses. With Josie, what you saw was exactly what you got. And right now, that was a broken-armed, blue jean clad, t-shirt wearing twenty-something with not much more to her name than the thirty-foot long piece of scrap metal she called home.
Sure. This was exactly the type of woman to win over judgmental, meddling mothers. Josie groaned.
There was only one thing powerful enough to take this nervous edge off and it was found inside a cold amber bottle. The six-pack she kept stocked in her fridge had recently dwindled down to two, but all she needed tonight was the one. Slamming the neck on the corner of the counter, Josie popped the cap off and threw back a deliberately long swallow that warmed her veins as the alcohol seeped into her body. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
“Starting early, I see.” Seth’s voice would’ve made her jump if she hadn’t already heard his boots coming up the gravel path to her trailer. It struck her as odd that she’d so quickly learned his gait. Like the hoof beat of a horse in the round pen, Josie was good at picking up the sound of a steady footfall verses a lame one. Seth’s beat was just a little off, one leg taking longer to catch up to the other, and she figured some sort of old injury was likely the cause.
“Can I offer you one?” She propped the door to the trailer open to welcome him in. Since his mother’s impromptu visit, Josie had taken the time to tidy up. Couldn’t get caught with her pants down—or completely off—again. “I’ve got one with your name on it.”
“No, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying yours.” He smiled as he pulled his white hat from his head and rested it on the counter next to Josie’s coffee maker that had three-day old liquid still in the pot. “Listen, I wanted to say that I’m really sorry my mom stopped by this afternoon without warning.”
“You gotta stop doing that.” Josie pointed the narrow opening of the bottle at him and shook it like a scolding finger. She smacked her mouth and squinted.
“Stop what?”
“Stop apologizing for your family. You aren’t them, Seth.”
“Maybe not, but I still feel guilty for