“Three,” Madison throws in.
“I’ll leave ranching to thethreeof you,” Jake corrects with an apologetic smile so sincere, I’m certain it’s got him out of a lot of trouble over the years.
Later, when Jake and Harper take Buck for a walk around a lake I didn’t even know existed at the back of the ranch, and Chase leaves to drive back to the city, Dylan, Mad, and I help Mama tidy the dishes. My arms feel heavy with exhaustion as I lift the last plate from the rack to dry. I can’t fight back the long yawn that escapes me.
Mama doesn’t miss it. “When my Harry was alive—that’s my late husband and Dylan, Jake, and Chase’s father,” she explains to Madison. “He died when the boys were not much older than you. He used to be asleep on his feet by this time most nights,” she says with a knowing smile. “You girlies need to get some sleep, too.”
“Thank you,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. “This has been a very fun evening.” One I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I did.
“It has,” Mama agrees. “And a lot of that fun came from this one,” she says, wrapping her arms around Madison and kissing the top of her head. “You come for dinner anytime,” she says. “Now, have you girls got all you need?”
“Yes, thanks, Ma—” I start to say, but Mad is already speaking up.
“Can we use your washing machine tomorrow, please, Mama?” she asks. “Ours is broken, and Mom’s been washing all our clothes in the sink.”
Heat floods my face as a mortified “Mad!” escapes. My voice is soft, but the warning is clear. “It’s fine, honestly,” I tell Mama. “We’re managing just fine.”
Mama’s gaze on me is firm and assessing. It’s the same look she’s given her boys all evening when their teasing goes too far, the one that says she knows exactly what’s what, no matter what you try to tell her. I don’t need to look at Dylan to know he’s finding this exchange amusing.
Jerk!
Mama takes Madison’s hand. “This way, sweetheart.” She leads Madison to a utility room by the back door. “We’ve got a washing machine and a dryer right here by the boot room. When we had the kitchen built, I made Harry install a shower room too, so he could wash off the smell of horses before trailing through the house.”
She shoots Dylan a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Message received,” he says. “From now on, I’ll shower there before coming in.”
Mama smiles back and I get the impression she’s a woman who always gets her way. It makes me like her more, even if the embarrassment is still burning on my face.
“You two use this shower or the washing machine anytime you like. The back door is always open,” she continues, opening the door to a neat utility room. “There are two machines in here. If I show you now, then you can show your mom when she’s ready to admit that asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness.”
I bite down hard on my bottom lip, willing the words to roll right off me. I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make it easier to hear. Not when I’ve spent years rebuilding myself brick by brick after my marriage crumbled. I think back to those early days when Madison was just a baby and I’d had no choice but to crawl back to Denver at the age of nineteen, to my parents’ house and accept help. When Bill took us in and hired me as a ranch hand, I swore to myself that I’d never ask for help again. Never rely on anyone but myself. I don’t need anyone’s help now. Except maybe for a washing machine until I can get mine fixed…
TEN
DYLAN
JAKE:How’s cowboy life going, Dyl? Training camp isn’t the same without you.
CHASE:Yeah. It sucks you’re not here!
JAKE:Try not to buy anything else while we’re gone!
CHASE:Something tells me Izzy will keep him in line.
JAKE:If she doesn’t kill him first.
CHASE:True! See you this weekend, Dyl (if you’re still alive)!
The unrelenting beep of my alarm cuts through my sleep. I groan into my pillow, wanting to block out the noise and the world it’s dragging me into. For a second, I forget why I even set the damn thing. It’s Wednesday. Jake and Chase are in Flagstaff with the Stormhawks while I’m stuck here with a bunch of horses I don’t want and don’t know what the hell to do with, and yet I’ve done nothing to find a buyer either.
My hand reaches for the alarm and I silence it. Not because I have a plan. Or even because I want to. But because of Izzy. The way she defended me against Chase’s ribbing on Saturday night while still looking like she wanted to throat-punch me has been lodged in my head like a thorn ever since. It’s the only thing that’s dragged me out of bed these past few mornings, working down a list of ranch jobs I barely understand.
Not that it’s stopped Izzy from correcting my every move. I swear she has the mouth of someone who gets up in the morning just to pick a fight.
All those muscles don’t mean a thing when you’re knee-deep in hay and horse shit, she said yesterday.Now use the shovel like this.
Watching her earn herself a sharp look from Mama on Saturday after dinner was the first time I’ve seen her slip. Who doesn’t ask to use a washing machine on a ranch like this when there’s nothing but land and foothills for miles? Izzy, that’s who.
But my feelings stem from more than just that. Izzy challenges me. Every look. Every word. She pushes back. And that’s… new. I haven’t had the best track record with women, and sure it’s been a while, but the women I dated never pushed. Kate always let my gruff moods slide and never complained when I skipped dates because of football. She didn’t expect anything deeper.
