“Yep.” Jazzy couldn’t stop smiling. “How is this dumpling doing?”
“Fine!” Trinity announced.
“No sore throat?”
Trinity waggled her little head. “All better.”
“After she cleaned me out of ice cream and popsicles.” Roan chuckled.
“That’s wonderful news.” Jazzy beamed at them.
“You’re doing some shopping?” Roan nodded at the Dutch oven.
“I was going to buy the one you recommended on your YouTube channel, but Andi Browning took the last one.”
“I saw her at the register,” he said. “But you don’t need to buy one. You’re welcome to use mine.”
“You won’t need it?”
“Nah, I’m done with campfire cooking.”
“That’s a generous offer. I’d love to have your Dutch oven if you’re sure you won’t ever use it.”
“I’ve got an extra one,” he said. “I was just browsing the aisles while I wait for them to load my truck with horse feed. If you’re not pressed for time, you can follow me back to my ranch and pick up the Dutch oven.”
“Mr. Sullivan,” a voice broadcast over the public address system. “Your order is complete.”
“That’s us,” Roan said.
Jazzy put the Dutch oven back on the shelf and followed Roan. He parked the cart and took Trinity out. The little girl slipped her arms around her father’s neck. The two of them looked so adorable.
“This way,” Roan said with a crook of his finger. “I’ve already paid for my purchases.”
She walked beside him to where his truck, now loaded with bags of horse feed, sat parked right beside her trusty Toyota Corolla.
Roan loaded Trinity into her car seat, then turned to Jazzy. He assessed her with that steady, brown-eyed gaze of his. A look that sent goose bumps prickling her skin. “You look nice. It’s fun seeing you out of scrubs.”
“Thanks.” She ducked her head. She had on yoga pants and a long-sleeved, dark green top.
“Did that sound risqué? I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I understand.” She chuckled. “I get that a lot, actually. People who know me only from the hospital often don’t recognize when they see me in street clothes. Out of context I guess.”
Suddenly, things felt awkward.
“Guess we better...” He pointed a thumb at his truck.
“Roll?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Slope Ridge Ranch and on the way they crossed from Hood County into Parker. Parker County was the cutting horsecapital of the world and anyone who was someone in the cutting horse industry in Texas lived there.
Jazzy felt weird about following him to his home. It seemed like a boundary violation. She had to ask herself, was her vain attempt at trying to best Andi worth it?
Then she remembered how sexy Roan looked in blue jeans and the sweet compliment he’d given her and decided, yes, yes it was.
Roan watched Jazzy in his rearview mirror. Her right front tire looked low. He’d check it for her when they got to the ranch.