Chapter 16

The soft glow of the laptop screen lights up my face on the video call as I lounge on my cream sofa, legs tucked under me. The open-plan living room feels less empty with Ryan"s face filling the space. He's out there, somewhere between Heartville and nowhere, but right now, he"s here with me.

"Jules," he drawls, that Texas accent wrapping around my nickname like warm honey, "you"re lookin" so beautiful." His blue eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile wide and genuine.

I laugh, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere, cowboy."

On the screen, Ryan"s backdrop is all rustic charm with wooden beams, leather tools scattered around. His hands, those strong, capable hands, are idle; a rare moment he isn"t lost to his woodworking.

"Everywhere, huh?" He raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge. "Even back to this lonely ranch?"

"Maybe," I tease, biting my lip. It"s a dance we"ve perfected over daily texts and calls. Distance may separate us, but our connection thrives in these shared moments, these digital intimacies.

"Only been a week. Feels longer, don"t it?" There"s a hint of something more behind his casual tone. A longing, perhaps?

"Feels like forever," I admit, the weight of the miles between us pressing down for just a second before I push it away. "But we"re making it work."

"Sure are," he agrees, the warmth in his voice warming my heart. The video call stretches on, each of us reluctant to be the first to end it.

"Tell me about your day," I prompt, eager to hear the familiar stories of ranch life that seem so far removed from my own world.

He starts recounting the antics of a stray calf, gesturing animatedly, and I"m caught up in the rhythm of our easy conversation. This is how we bridge the gap, through stories and smiles, through the unwavering belief that what we have is worth every mile.

The key clicks in the lock, and I shrug off my blazer as I toe out of my heels. Home from another day at the helm, but it"s not the quiet of my Houston townhouse that calls to me. It"s the anticipation of Ryan"s face once again on my screen.

"Hey there, cowboy," I drawl into the phone, hitting the video call button. A smirk plays on my lips. I"m channeling all the sass I"ve kept under wraps during today"s board meetings.

Ryan"s face pops up, rugged and grinning under the brim of his hat. "Evenin", darlin". Thought you"d be all tuckered out after wranglin" them business deals."

I flop onto the couch, phone propped against a cushion. "It takes more than a few contracts to wear me down. But speaking of wearin" down, how"s Mr. Lone Star today?"

"Better now that I can see your face." He leans back, the sun setting behind him casting a golden hue over his features. "Though I reckon I could use a good distraction."

"Is that so?" I tease, pulling the tie from my hair, letting the red waves tumble free. "And what kind of distraction did you have in mind, Mr. Mysterious Ranch Hand?"

"Oh, you've got all these new nicknames for me. Glad you've been thinking about me while you were coming up with those," he says with a wink. "Anyway, back to my request of distraction, thought maybe you could show me one of those yoga poses you"re always talkin" about. The one that calms the mind... except, when you do it, I find it anything but calming."

I laugh, a flush creeping up my neck. "You mean to say my downward dog gets your heart racin"?"

"Like a stampede." His voice drops an octave, and even across this digital expanse, it thrills me.

We trade smiles, our connection crackling through pixels and airwaves, hearts hitched together with laughter and longing.

Eyelids heavy, I stifle a yawn, fighting the pull of sleep. It"s been a long day but letting go of this moment with Ryan feels like saying goodbye to a dream you don"t want to end.

"Jules," he drawls, his voice a warm blanket wrapping around me. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you look so tired."

"Guilty," I admit with a sheepish grin. "But I"m not ready to hang up yet. You?"

"No, I'm not ready to let you go for the night either." His eyes are half-mast, blue hues dimming in the soft light of his house. But he"s fighting it just like me—this invisible lasso tugging us toward slumber.

"Tell me something silly," I suggest, hoping to keep both of us awake. "Something only Ry, the secret billionaire cowboy, would know."

"Did you know," he starts, a smile playing on his lips even as they struggle to stay lifted, "that cows can have best friends?"

"Really?" I chuckle, charmed by this tidbit. "Well, now I"m jealous. I want a cow best friend too."

"Darlin", you"ve got me. I"m better than any ol" cow." He lets out a hearty laugh that morphs into a yawn, and I watch, amused, as he tries to disguise it with a rub of his beard.

"Sure, but do you make milk?" I tease back, curling up on the couch, the screen"s glow casting dancing shadows across my living room.

"Can"t say that I do." He stifles another yawn, this one sneaking past his defenses. "But I sure can make you—"

His words trail off, and there"s a pause filled with the soft sound of crickets from his open window. I peer closer, noticing the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breath evens out, and I realize he"s fallen asleep.

"Ryan?" I whisper, though I know he can"t hear me. No response, just the gentle huff of his breathing.

A smile spreads across my face, warmth blooming in my chest at the sight of him so peaceful. There"s something profoundly intimate about watching him like this.

"Goodnight, Ry," I murmur, content to just watch over him for a little while longer. My own eyelids flutter, betraying my wish to stay awake, but I resist. This moment, this quiet connection, it"s worth every second of lost sleep.

I resist the urge to end the call, the screen bathing me in a soft, blue light. My head lolls back against the cushion, eyes heavy with the pull of sleep. The room is quiet except for the comforting rhythm of his breathing, syncing with the faint hum of my own air conditioning.

"Stay," I whisper, as if he could answer, as if he had a choice.

The digital clock on the mantel ticks away the minutes, but time feels irrelevant. It"s just Ryan and me, connected by pixels and Wi-Fi waves, yet it"s enough. It has to be.

I shift, tucking my feet under me, the fabric of the couch soft against my skin. His face on the screen blurs as my eyelids droop, and I fight to keep them open. But the fight is losing steam, my body sinking deeper into the embrace of the cushions.

"Sweet dreams, cowboy," I manage, the words drifting off as I do.