“I wish it were that simple. That’s the whole problem, really. There aren’t any.”
Just then, Phil Daughtry came over to show his completed cookie off to Faith and the crew. The front of the “book” featured an impressive image of a horse’s head, complete with a flowing mane and long, white blaze. “I was inspired by Alpine. That horse is a real looker,” he said proudly, angling the decorated cookie to give Sarah a full view of his handiwork. “Thanks again for setting things up so I could visit the ranch this afternoon. Had a great time.”
“Of course.” Sarah smiled up at the author. “I’m so glad it worked out.”
“Josephine’s got an incredible setup over there. Told her that big ol’ house of hers is the perfect setting for the current novel I’m writing. It’s the only place large enough to house the rambunctious family of cowboys in my books—and they’d each still get their own room to boot!”
As Phil retreated to his table with his cookie, Lance, Sarah, and Faith exchanged hopeful glances.
“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” the baker started, “I think we just might have found your solution.”
Lance wasn’tsure he had the guts—or the right—to impose on Nana Jo in such a way.
Of course, he had already been brainstorming ways to revitalize the ranch, but it felt like overstepping to assume his grandmother would want strangers inhabiting her home. Because what would she truly have to gain from it? More mouths to feed? A possible revenue stream? To someone else, that might be enticing, but Nana Jo already made a habit of giving away her earthly possessions. It wasn’t like she had the need to start saving money now.
Lance blamed it on the sugar, but he buzzed with anxiety, like he’d had a double shot espresso on an empty stomach. Even though he had no appetite, he accepted the invitation when Sarah asked him to join the writers for dinner back at the Inn. He’d wanted to spend more time with Sarah, even though he had a hunch she’d be in work mode.
After clocking out early from the shop and ensuring that Holden could watch Tahoe for the evening, he drove to the Snowdrift Inn. His wipers swished and scraped across his windshield in a big arc, pushing the falling snow into a pile of white at the base of the glass just above the hood. The truck was cold, the heater on the fritz. Lance cranked it to full blast, but only frigid air poured from the vents. He shivered all the way down to his toes.
He had talked with Holden that afternoon after returning from the bakery. His buddy lit up at the idea of using the ranch as a possible homebase for their customers. It really was a perfect fit; the place was always a source of adventure and excitement. But Lance didn’t want to assume it was an idea Nana would even want to entertain. She’d lived a full life there, every room and corner a backdrop for memories and experiences. Lance didn’t have a right to suddenly invite strangers to stay where those cherished memories were made.
He parked his truck beside Sarah’s four-runner and looped his scarf one more time around his neck like a security blanketbefore stepping out into the cold. This wasn’t like him, so undone with worry. But Nana Jo and Sarah were unequivocally the most important women in his life. He wanted nothing more than for them both to be happy. And he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any undue stress in their lives. It was a tightrope walk he wasn’t sure he could balance upon, and a problem he couldn’t find a comfortable solution to.
Opening the front door to the Inn was like stepping into a lively symphony. Happy voices echoed throughout the home, the clattering and clinking of glasses accenting the reverberation of cheer. He followed the sounds into the front room where pre-dinner drinks were being poured and finger foods were passed around on small trays as appetizers.
Like she always did, Sarah spotted him instantly, rushing over to greet Lance with so much joy it made his earlier melancholy seem almost ill-placed.
“Was Holden good with watching Tahoe?” She squeezed Lance’s biceps in an endearing way rather than going in for a full hug in front of her new author friends.
Lance stopped short as he was already halfway toward kissing her out of instinct. He simply smiled instead. “Yep. Not sure Scout’s too thrilled with the plan but I think she’ll cope.”
“She’s like an older sibling that’s jealous of a brand-new baby.” She laughed. “I sometimes wonder if Laney will be that way.”
Their eyes met, and Lance’s heart rate ticked up another notch. Of course, Sarah would want her daughter to have a sibling someday, but now that they were in a relationship, it hinted at something else entirely.
“If I ever get married and have more kids, that is,” she quickly corrected, but that didn’t diminish the unexpected hope that her first statement produced within him.
“I’m sure she’ll be the perfect big sister.”
Sarah’s shoulders lifted as she took a large inhale. She collected Lance’s hands into her own. “I need to mingle, so feel free to do the same. Sterling said dinner should be ready in about fifteen.”
Lance assured her he would be fine on his own before making his way to the small table near the back wall that had a cheese and cracker platter placed next to a colorful veggie tray. He lifted a plate from the stack and loaded it with the snacks, forcing himself to eat something even though his appetite had yet to return.
“You’re Lance?” A man roughly Lance’s age stepped up to the table with a paper plate in one hand, half-gone glass of red wine in the other. “Sarah’s boyfriend?”
“I am.” Lance wiped his palm on his pantleg before offering it for a shake. “Lance Major.”
“Hector Trunley.” The man transferred his wine glass to the table and slipped his hand into Lance’s.
“Author, I take it?” Lance bit down on a crunchy carrot he’d just dipped in ranch. “How’s the writing going?”
Hector waggled his head, making his jet-black hair skim the tops of his ears. “I’m using the time as more of an opportunity to edit since my writing is pretty location specific.”
“Oh yeah? How so? What do you write?”
“I’m a travel writer, so unlike most of the fiction authors around here, I can’t just come up with a story and run with it. I need an adventure.” He paused, giving Lance a subtle look. “And I hear you might be my guy.”
Lance shook his head warily. “Ah, man. Not sure what you’ve heard.”
