Then we left.
Because Meadowbrook needed us now.
TWENTY-THREE
Hollie
Istood on the front porch of the big house, holding my phone up to my ear again as my gaze scanned the dark fields beyond the barnyard. Jesse’s phone went all the way to voice mail for the third time. “Hey, you’ve reached Jesse Holmes at Meadowbrook Ranch…”
I sighed, shoving the phone into my jeans’ pocket.
The girls were tucked into our room in Tag and Bea’s cabin and Jesse had tucked Cade into bed a couple hours ago. But a warm golden light glowed from the barn, and Jesse had never come into the big house kitchen to eat his supper, even though I’d texted him to do so.
Standing on the edge of the porch, I fretted over my options. I wasn’t sure what to do.
Even though an inky black blanket had rolled across the sky, moonlight illuminated the gravel drive. The big house porch was shrouded in shadows, the light of the windows dissipating into the night. A loud, dull roar of crickets and frogs softened the edges of my anxious thoughts.
I knew one thing only.
Jesse needed a hot plate of food. Ever since we arrived back at the ranch on Monday evening, he hadn’t sat down for a real meal. From what I’d seen, his sustenance over the last two days had consisted of biscuits shoved into his mouth around a few sips of coffee. Monday and Tuesday night, I’d left him a plate that he never came for.
With a deep breath, I charged into the barnyard, reassuring myself that I wouldn’t make it weird. I’d deliver the food, ensure he started eating it, then leave.
I followed the long corridor that stretched right through the middle of the quiet, empty barn all the way to the doors at the opposite end, which were thrown open wide, a few lights around the dirt arena flickering.
That was when I heard the music—soft country.
And there, sitting on a five-gallon bucket by the arena fence, was Jesse. He had a flashlight clamped between his teeth, a radio at his feet, and tools in his hands. He appeared to be leaning through the gap of the fence, cranking a wrench over a bolt.
I called out over the music. “Jesse?”
He jumped so hard that a metallicclangfilled the air as he slammed the back of his head into the bar above him. He muttered a curse as I gasped, and his hands curled around the back of his head.
I rushed forward, coming up to the fence. “Jesse! Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry!”
“It’s—fine.” His words mixed with a low moan.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He slowly pulled his body out from between the bars, revealing that he was bare-chested and glistening with sweat. My eyes, helpless against the temptation, quickly took him in. His right elbow pointed toward the sky as he continued to rub the back of his head, drawing attention to details my imagination didn’t need.
Denying myself the indulgence of appreciating longer than a few milliseconds, I trained my gaze to his face with the discipline of a monk. But my stomach took a few somersaults. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry about your head. I just wanted to bring you some food.”
Jesse’s gaze dropped to the plate in my hands. “I’m starving. Thankyou so much.” He flicked off the flashlight in his hand and shoved it into his jeans’ butt pocket, moving to the fence where his shirt was. He swiped the white fabric over his face and hair then slipped it on.
I finally took a deep breath. “I figured you were. You didn’t eat dinner the past two nights.”
He turned back to relieve me of the plate. “Sorry about that. I got your texts about saving me a plate, but by the time I finished up, it was so late that I didn’t feel like I should come into the big house to get it.”
My shoulders dropped. “I should’ve thought to put it in your cabin.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I just ate what we had.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Pantry food.”
I grimaced. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
