Page 89 of Saltwater Cowboy

Wren practically bounced out of her chair, still clinging to Rose. “Yep! Let’s go!”

With a soft smile, Rose let Wren lead her toward the door, and I followed behind, shaking my head.

Damn. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

There was something about the way Rose let her guard down around Wren that gave me a glimpse into who she was before she came here. A version of her untouched by whatever had made her so wary. She’s been to Wippowa a handful of times, but our paths never crossed—until now. And the woman in front of me? She was different.

With Wren, she was light. Playful. Free in a way I hadn’t seen before.

But back at the farm? She was cautious, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The difference was striking, and I wasn’t sure which version of her was closer to the truth. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

A few bricks in her wall had crumbled, but not enough for me to see inside.

We piled into the truck, Wren chattering away in the backseat while Rose stretched out in the passenger seat, her head tilted back against the headrest.

“That was a solid day,” she mused, glancing over at me.

I nodded, shifting gears as we pulled onto the main road. “You didn’t expect to enjoy yourself, did you?”

She smirked. “I expected chaos. Turns out, it was nice.”

Wren popped her head between the seats. “That’s ‘cause W Squared Days are the best.”

“W Squared Plus,” Rose corrected, poking Wren’s knee playfully.

Wren giggled. “Right, right. We’re making history.”

By the time we got back to the farm, the late afternoon sun was hanging low, stretching warmth across the fields. I expected Rose to escape inside with her book the second we stepped out of the truck, but she lingered, following Wren toward the back porch.

I grabbed a couple of sweet teas from the fridge and brought them outside, handing one to Rose as she sunk into the porch swing. Wren had sprawled out on the steps, flipping through one of her turtle books.

Rose took a sip of her tea and sighed. “I could get used to this.”

I leaned against the railing. “Sitting around doing nothing?”

She side-eyed me. “Existing in peace. Big difference.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, watching the way the sunlight wove through her blonde hair, turning it gold. Right now, she looked like she didn’t have a single worry, like she’d never been more at ease in her life. The weight she usually carried—whatever it was, wherever it came from—seemed to have disappeared, at least for now.

And damn if that wasn’t something to see.

Wren looked up from her book. “Auntie Rose, can I paint your nails?”

Rose grinned. “Do you even have nail polish with you?”

Wren scrambled up and ran inside, yelling about her options.

I smirked. “You’re really letting her get you with the nail polish?”

Rose shrugged, setting her tea down. “The kid’s persuasive.”

I watched her for a second, how easily she had started to settle in here, even if she didn’t realize it yet. There was something about seeing her like this—comfortable, unguarded—that made my chest feel too tight.

Maybe Wren was onto something. Maybe W Squared Plus wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

SUPERMARKET FLOWERS

The day had finally arrived—my first farmer’s market. I had successfully dodged last weekend’s market thanks to the rain, but this time, luck wasn’t on my side. There was no excuse, no last-minute reprieve. I was in for the full Wippowa Sunday experience.