Page 20

So, as the week goes on, I only wander down to the mess hall on strategically odd hours in order to avoid the crowd. Or, more accurately, Cruz.

I don’t want to see that smirk on his face that I know will be there. Hear whatever new jabs he’s thought up for me.

As nice as he was to me during and after the panic attack, I just can’t shake the feeling that we’ll revert to our old ways of interacting. With him now having a humiliating upper hand.

No, it’s best I avoid him.

So, for the next week, I spend most of my time down at the ranch house, catching up with family, helping with the kids, and just hanging out. The only staff I interact with is Hank whenever I end up at the mess hall for meals.

“Aunt Addie!” Tate’s six-year-old daughter, Fern, yells, running down the hallway and skidding to a stop in front of me. She twirls in her light blue dress, showing it off for me. “This one’s my second favorite!” she declares.

“It’s beautiful!” I compliment. “It matches your gorgeous eyes.” I reach out to give her cheek a little pinch, and she giggles.

“Wanna see my first favorite one?”

“Oh, definitely!”

Beaming, she twirls around and runs back down the hallway to her room.

I laugh, leaning back in my chair and facing Tate and Lucy at the dining room table of the ranch house.

“She loves you,” Tate says with a chuckle.

“Do you want kids of your own one day?” Lucy asks.

It’s an innocent question, but one that catches me off guard. Do I want kids? I don’t … really know. I suppose it’s something I’ve never given much thought to. I’ve always loved kids, but having my own? It always felt a little out of reach—like most things in my life. It would have to come after my career—at least according to my parents—and that just seems unfair to a child.

“Sorry, that was a bit personal,” Lucy says quickly, noticing my pause.

“No,” I wave off her comment. “It’s fine. I guess I’mnot sure yet.”

Lucy nods in understanding.

“How’s your stay going?” Tate asks. He’s on his lunch break, which he usually spends down here at the ranch house with his family.

I shrug. “Good.” I leave out the contentious relationship with one of his ranch hands, as well as my breakdown the other night.

Tate shoots me a grimace, my reply obviously not believable. At first, I worry that he’s somehow caught wind of my and Cruz’s arguments. But instead, he says, “You’re bored.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I really thought I’d have more free time to, I don’t know, show you around the town, stuff like that.”

“Same,” Lucy interjects. “If I wasn’t sick half the time, we’d be going on adventures every day.” She laughs, placing a hand over her very pregnant belly.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to worry about me,” I say quickly. Although he isn’t exactly wrong. Reading on the porch every day is getting a bit old.

Just then, Tate’s phone buzzes, and he grabs it, staring down at the screen. “Shoot,” he mutters, and Lucy gives him a quizzical look. “The offer I extended to that local kid? He turned it down. Hank’s gonna be swamped.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Tate shrugs. “We usually have someone come in a few times a week and help Hank with all the meal prep work. It’s not full time, so it’s been hard finding someone after the last kid went off to college. But Hank’s been a bit overworked lately without him.”

Lucy hums in understanding.

“What all goes into it?” I ask, an idea popping into my head.

“Just chopping veggies, washing dishes, stuff like that. Easy. We typically hire teenagers or college kids home for the summer.”

Hmm. If a teenager is doing it, it really can’t be that hard. And as much as washing dishes isn’t my typicaltype of fun, the boredom truly is getting to me. Besides, I like Hank. He’s a sweetheart.

“What if I helped out?” I ask.