Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
She had far more to lose than pride. That she had let it slip her mind, even for a day, was terrifying.
No matter how deeply he’d hurt her, Pike still had the power to make her feel like a lovesick schoolgirl, a fact that should have sent her running for the safety of her parents’ ranch hours ago. She’d promised Mia that she would supervise cleanup while Mia got ready for the meet and greet fundraiser, but Tulsi could have pled sick. Mia would have understood.
For a moment, the urge to run was so great that Tulsi almost dropped the rope in her hands and made a break for her truck.
“Woman up,” she muttered to herself instead, continuing to coil the thick divider rope around her arm. “You made a promise, and you’ll keep it.”
She had to keep this promise. Knowing she’d done her best to help Mia raise money for the ghost town restoration would make it easier to back out of the float trip later this week. Mia was looking forward to her pre-wedding float trip with her fiancé and closest friends as much as most brides-to-be looked forward to the big day, but there was no way Tulsi would survive twenty-four hours of forced proximity to Pike.
She would have to see him at the wedding shower trail ride, the rehearsal, and the wedding Saturday afternoon. That would be more than enough torture, especially considering her daughter Clementine would be home from camp on Saturday to join the wedding party. Clementine and Mia were as thick as thieves, and it had been assumed from the moment Mia set the date for her wedding that Clem would be the flower girl. If Tulsi had even hinted that Mia should find another little girl to do the honors, her best friend would have immediately known that something was wrong.
Tulsi’s only shot at keeping her secret under wraps was to keep her chin up and pretend this week was business as usual. And if Mia or her fiancé, Sawyer, or any of Tulsi’s other friends noticed she seemed a little off, she could always blame her weird mood on her business woes.
Last Friday she’d learned that Head Starts for Good Hearts, the charitable organization that had provided funding for her Equine therapy business, was under new management and had decided to direct their efforts elsewhere in the community. They’d given her sixty days’ notice, but that wasn’t nearly enough time to find alternative funding. Grant boards were notoriously slow. Any grants she applied for now wouldn’t be awarded until Christmas or later. By then, she’d be out of business. Even if she could convince her dad to let her stop paying rent on the barn for a month or two, the upkeep on the horses would be too much for her to float with her few paying clients.
She was on the verge of losing everything she’d worked so hard for and ending up back where she started when she’d come back to Lonesome Point after college as a single mother with barely a penny to her name. Clem was going into first grade this year, so if Tulsi found a job that kept school hours she wouldn’t have to pay for childcare or ask Mia for extra babysitting help. But the thought of working as a waitress or a sales clerk at one of the stores downtown, while all the kids who had flourished under her treatment lost their connection to the horses that had brought them self-confidence and healing, was enough to break her heart.
She had an appointment to talk to the new chair of Head Starts—a man she’d gone to high school with, who she hoped would empathize with her position—on Monday. God willing, she’d be able to convince him to restore funding. If not, she would simply have to find another way to keep the business afloat. She was working miracles for her kids and she wasn’t going to give up on them without a fight.
Most people assumed shy, reserved Tulsi was a pushover, but when it came to the precious things in life, she had a fiercely protective side.
Speaking of precious things…
Tulsi tugged her cell from her back pocket, dialing her dad’s number as she loaded the last of the rope into her wheelbarrow and went back for the metal stands.
“Grandpa Central,” her father answered, sounding upbeat for a man who’d been watching a high-energy six-year-old all day.
“Hey, Dad. Thanks for the help today. I’m almost done, and I’ll be by to get Clem in an hour. Can you make sure she has her things ready to go?”
“I thought you two were sleeping here tonight,” her father said, a frown in his voice. “Clementine made me put fresh sheets on the top bunk and she has all those weird dolls of hers tucked into the bottom one. We already picked out bedtime stories.”