Country's mouth opened and closed like a guppy. "Didn't know Jenna was such a nark."
Jenna snorted, then tried to hide her amusement by stuffing more biscuit in her mouth.
"She lives thirty-five minutes away, and her car was stuck in a parking garage!" His mom shook her head then motioned for him to take a seat next to his dad. At least she wasn't disappointed enough to refuse him coffee.
"I tried to offer help with her car, just for the record."
Terry's brows drew together. "You knew about the car?"
Country nodded. "We were out for drinks and . . ." He trailed off when he noticed both his parents were staring at him.
"You two? Were out for drinks?" His mother pointed between them.
Jenna swallowed and reached for her cup of coffee. "No, it was just—we needed to talk. After the broadcast."
"About work?" His dad leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
Jenna cleared her throat. "Right. Work related." Her eyes briefly flicked to his before she pulled off another piece off her biscuit and popped it in her mouth.
Country’s phone buzzed in his pocket, so he pulled it out. Just a text from the guys about practice, but it was a perfect distraction.
Jenna tapped her fingers on the table. “I thought you didn’t like to text.”
“I don’t. We have a team chat. It’s not optional.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed as his mother brought over a plate with a biscuit and set it in front of him. She glanced between the two of them. "Well, I think it's lovely that you reconnected."
Country slipped his phone back in his pocket and poured himself a cup of coffee. He glanced up and tried to shoot an apologetic glance in Jenna's direction, but her gaze was fixated on her plate.
"So what kind of indentured servitude are you going to inflict on our poor Jenna today?" His dad's eyes leveled on him. Our poor Jenna? A shard of ice settled between his ribs. They were allowed to love her.
The thought knocked the breath from his lungs. For thirteen years he'd pounded away at the love he'd felt for this girl, hoping to compress it into something manageable. Hoping it would erode over time and disappear like silt in the flow of a river. His parents, on the other hand, were allowed to sit here and admit that their love was still alive and well. That it had only ever been tucked away for safekeeping.
Country stared out the front window at the tamarind sunrise, so fresh and bright, it seemed he could scoop it into a glass and drink it. "Polk's working on the fence repairs, so I thought we'd do some work in the barn." He brushed the last crumbs of his biscuit from his fingers.
Jenna stood and took her plate to the kitchen sink.
“Just leave it there hon, I’ll take care of it,” his mom instructed. Jenna set it down and stepped back like someone had just stripped the puck from the flat of her stick. She was nervous.
“Let’s go, then.” The wooden chair legs scraped against the floor as Country stood and cleared his plate. Jenna padded to the front door and reclaimed her shoes and winter gear, carrying them to the back door leading into the yard.
Country’s heart skittered in his chest like it knew something he didn’t. Jenna was here. Back at his ranch.
She pulled her coat closed and descended the wooden steps behind him. “These are new.”
He nodded. “Polk and I rebuilt the porch a few summers ago. The old one was pulling off the side of the house.”
“I remember.”
Had it been five years ago that they’d worked on the porch? It turned out that time behaved exactly as he’d been told as a kid. Enjoy this time, it only goes faster. He’d never believed it. How could he, when back then, the weeks leading up to Christmas flowed as slow as the buckets of ten-year-old honey in their root cellar.
His season with the Snowballs had only just started and already the ranch wore its winter armour. The land was a quilt patched with snow and ice, the fences standing like ribs stripped clean of their meat.
Within seconds of them starting across the yard, Licorice was running toward them, his tongue lolling and trailing a stream of clouded breath. Country crouched and scratched his dog’s scruff.
Licorice pulled away and wagged his tail like he was trying to take flight as he greeted Jenna. She laughed and gave him a rub down. “He’s new, too.”
“Got him from the dairy as a pup.”
