“Mm-hmm.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s take a break. Phone.”
Lucy reluctantly drops the phone into my palm. I stuff it into my coat pocket.
She inches toward the barn doors. “Can I go help Patty June with the cookie table then?”
“Fine,” I say, pointing a finger at her. “Three cookies. That’s it. If I catch you in the frosting bowls again, I’m telling Patty June she has to hide the sprinkles from now on.”
She clutches her heart like I’ve threatened to burn her stuffed animals. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She huffs a laugh and then darts toward the doors. The lights reflect off her coat. Little points of gold catch in her dark hair. For a second, my chest squeezes so tight I have to take a breath against it.
Lucy doesn’t know what this life has cost me over the years, and I’m thankful for that. The lack of sleep and the hours spent out on the tractor are nothing compared to what her mother put me through. I can still hear the doors slamming. I can still feel the ache of being good enough to sleep with but not good enough to stay with.
Living where you work made it easy to put in nights, weekends, and every spare hour I had for years. I worried about her not having a mother in her life. But somewhere along the way, these people became family. I’d do it all over again to make sure Lucy gets the life we’ve got now. Her world is cookies and lights and a ranch big enough to lose a bad day in. She doesn’tneed to know about the other stuff. Lucy is growing up so fast, it makes me wish I could slow the clock.
Tears well up behind my eyes, and I shake off the thoughts before they drag me under. I’ve got important things to think about now. Things that won’t make me cry. Like hay… And that new load of feed that better not be frozen solid when I get there.
I grab the ladder with one hand, tuck it under my arm, and turn toward the equipment shed. The gravel crunches under my boots as I walk. My breath puffs white in front of me. Somewhere behind the guest cabins, Hunkleberry barks. The sound is followed by an echo of Holden Kingridge yelling something about staying out of the trash.
Most of the Kingridge crew is supposed to be on holiday break. Even Alexander, and that dude never takes a day off. But I’m starting to think that none of those control freaks can stomach actually resting. As far as I’m concerned, it’s business as usual around here.
I’ve almost made it to the shed when I hear tires on gravel. But the sound is all wrong. It’s too soft, too smooth. It’s not one of our trucks, and it sure as hell isn’t one of the ranch ATVs. This is quieter. Sleeker… Maybe a rental car. But that’s odd.
We’re not at peak tourist season yet. The holiday packages don’t kick in for another couple of weeks. Nearly all of our cabins are undergoing renovation. Today wasn’t supposed to be a big arrival day. As far as I know, there is just one family for the weekend who arrived yesterday, and a yoga retreat Danner conned Priya into letting him host.
I squint toward the main drive. A dark SUV glides into view. It kicks up a fan of powdery snow behind it. The thing looks like it’s never seen a dirt road in its life. It pulls into the guest parking spots near the lobby and idles there, engine humming.
Across the drive, the blinds twitch in the windows of the farmhands' cabins.The neighborhood watch in this place is world-renowned.
“Who in the hell…” I mutter.
I lean the ladder against the side of the shed and wipe my palms on my jeans. The SUV’s engine cuts off. For a long second, nothing happens.
Then the driver’s door opens.
And she steps out.
For one stupid second, I forget how to breathe. The woman has clearly been dropped here by mistake. She’s too polished, too curvy… too gorgeous for this ranch. The cold doesn’t touch her, but something in me lights up like I grabbed a live wire.
Mine.
The word slams into my consciousness before rational thought can catch up. It’s primal, absolute, and undeniable. I shake away the thoughts. No. Ridiculous is what it is. I'm thirty-eight years old. I've been married, rejected, and rebuilt from the ground up. I know better than to believe in this kind of instant certainty.
But the thoughts are relentless.
Nothing else matters. She's mine. This woman is going to ruin me. I know it the same way I know the sun's going to rise tomorrow. She hasn't said a word to me, and I'm already gone.
3
walker
I know better than to react this fast. I’m supposed to be over this kind of thing. But my brain short-circuits anyway as I get closer. From here, she’s all clean lines and soft curves in her long wool coat. Her black pants tuck into her heeled boots… A wild choice for the snow.
My gaze catches on the curve of her mouth. Her lips are full and painted red. Her hair is twisted up in some precise knot that belongs in a boardroom and sure as hell not a ranch parking lot. My eyes wander the long line of her throat as I make my way toward her.
She closes the door of her SUV with a solid, decisive thunk and glances around like she’s assessing a crime scene. She moves like she’s used to being watched. And dammit, I’m watching. Kingridge Ranch looks like a postcard from the past, and she looks like something off a magazine cover.
