I clear my throat as I let him go. “By the way, my parents want us over for dinner. Tomorrow night work?”
“That works.”
“’Kay.”
Lawson and I sit out on the back deck of the ranch house for some time, both of us watching the cattle and the breeze. Ash drops off some iced tea after a while, offering a wink before he heads back inside. Off to the west, the mountains rise toward the sky, their peaks nearly disappearing amongst the clouds.
Beautiful mountain. That’s what Beaumont means.
Maybe I was always meant for Montana.
Maybe I was meant for a lot of things I was too scared to claim for my own.
Chapter 7
Lawson
“Lawson, sweetie, help me with the whipped cream?”
“Mom,” Oakley starts, a warning in his tone.
“No, it’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m happy to help.”
Sienna graces me with a wide smile. “See, I knew I always liked you. Here.”
Oakley shakes his head as his mother sets me up with the portable mixer. She places a carton of heavy cream down, pulls the countertop canister of sugar over, and pats my shoulder.
We’re in the elder Beaumonts’ house, the two-story farmhouse-style home as familiar to me as any other I’ve lived in. The lavender wallpaper in the entry. The mosaic of colors in the kitchen tiles that reminds me of a vegetable garden at the height of summer. The nick in the banister at the foot of the stairs.
That one’s Oakley’s fault. He took a piece out of it when we were seven and thought riding an old-fashioned wooden sled down the stairs would be a good idea. It wasn’t.
I swear his parents left the nick just to use as fodder against the both of us.
Oakley brings plates and utensils outside at the behest of Sienna as I pour the heavy cream into the chilled bowl. The clang of the beaters against ceramic drowns out most else for the minute it takes to whip the cream, a spoonful of sugar added near the end. All set, I put the mixer aside and bring the whipped cream out back.
The table is already set up, dinner laid out and Robert, Oakley’s dad, cranking up the umbrella. It offers some shade as we take our seats, bees and the occasional hummingbird flitting around the plentiful gardens Sienna has always kept. She thanks me as I set the bowl of whipped cream beside what looks like a peach pie.
“Dig in,” Robert says with a grin.
Oakley passes me the platter of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets with an eyebrow raised, a hefty dose ofcan you believe this?in his expression. I keep my amusement to myself as I take a few of the nuggets, glad to see hamburgers are waiting, as well.
“So, Lawson,” Sienna starts, pouring herself a glass of lemonade. “Tell us what you’ve been up to these past many years.”
Oakley makes a disapproving sound. “Hey, now. I damn well know you had Lawson and Wendy over plenty while I was gone, so the guilt trip ain’t gonna work. Try again.”
Sienna chuckles, unperturbed by her son’s halfhearted ire. “How’d you get him back?” she asks instead.
I glance Oakley’s way. He’s already into his burger. “You want to tell the story or should I?”
He rolls his eyes, waving a hand to give me thego-ahead.
I refocus on Sienna and Robert, both giving me their rapt attention. “I showed up and told him he was coming home.”
“That easy?” Robert asks, an eyebrow raised.
Oakley gets most of his looks from his father. The same perpetually ruffled, light brown hair, same sharp cheekbones and heavy scruff. Robert’s eyes are pure blue, however. Sienna carries the brown and a far shorter stature.
“I wasn’t taking no for an answer,” I tell the elder Mr. Beaumont.
