Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gideon
Friday had turned out to be a snow day. I had worked at the table while Autumn had listened to an audiobook and graded papers. The wind had tormented the outdoors until after sundown Saturday afternoon, so we’d stayed in. This morning, the gusts had died down and the sky was partly cloudy.
We were still in bed. Autumn was sprawled across her side. Half a butt cheek was hanging out of her pajama shorts and her legs were tangled in the sheets. She’d kicked the rest off.
I still envied how she could sleep with abandon. There’d been only a handful of times I could remember sinking into a deep sleep like her. Most of them had taken place in the last few weeks—when I’d worked with Dad and when I’d helped move cattle.
I stared at the ceiling. Cool air drifted in from the old windows. Heat was pumping out of the vents around the room. I kicked the rest of the blankets off. Autumn murmured and buried her face farther into her pillow.
I would be leaving in three days.
Rolling up, I let my gaze stroke over her ass one more time before I went to the bathroom to clean up. I could make breakfast, but a restlessness had settled into my bones. There was a pile of snow against the door and garage to be moved and a sidewalk that needed to be cleared.
I had no snow pants, but the snow removal shouldn’t take that long. I put on jeans, a shirt, a sweater, and the heavier coat I’d bought. I dug out gloves and a stocking hat and went through the garage.
A snowblower was parked in the far corner. Next to it was a gas can that looked fairly fresh. Of course Autumn would take care of her equipment. She was a Bailey.
I punched open the garage door and stepped outside to form a plan. The cold blew into my lungs, stealing my breath. Fuck . I was a Montana kid. I would get used to the temperature.
I squinted against the bright morning sun. The whole driveway was covered, but a drift had formed on one side that’d hang up her car. How long had it been since I’d moved snow? Seemed like this whole trip had unlocked a time capsule of experiences.
The snowblower started right up. After a few moments, I was clearing a path down the middle of her driveway and blowing a stream of snow onto her yard. The garage door of the house beside Autumn’s opened and a guy came out, flanked by two lanky sons, all dressed in better winter weather gear than I had.
He waved. I returned it and kept going. More neighbors popped out. The storm had died down and it was time to make everything passable. As I worked, a sense of satisfaction settled around me. We all had our parts and I was included.
When I was growing up, I had to run the tractor with the bucket. Mom would push snow with the blade on the four-wheeler, and Dad would get as many chores done as he could while we cleaned snow. It had gotten to where I would look forward to snow days.
How was Dad doing? He had no equipment in the shop anymore, but I hadn’t gone into the garage.
There was no reason for me to care. He wasn’t worried about me.
I wheeled the snowblower into the garage and killed the engine.
But how was Dad doing? That old house was drafty. He’d kept it up, but a ton of expenses had been spared when it was built before I was born. The place needed new windows, a new roof, and probably some gas and a match. Start over.
Which was what someone else would be doing with the place. Whoever the Baileys chose to manage the farm. Probably someone local.
“Are you almost finished?”
I spun. My very own ranch snow bunny was standing in the opening of the garage door. I was surrounded by the smell of exhaust, but I knew her cotton-candy scent well enough that she didn’t have to be close for me to smell it.
Her hair was stuffed under a blue knit hat with a fluffy white ball on top. Her yellow scarf matched nothing, especially not the grungy tan work coat she was wearing over her bibbed black snow pants. She was cute as hell.
“Yeah, I’m about done.”
Her pants swished as she crossed toward me. She frowned at my jeans. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I can’t feel my legs anymore.”
Her eyes widened. “Go inside and warm up.”
“I’m good. You forget I’m a local boy.”
“You’re usually the one who forgets.” She retrieved the wide snow shovel leaning against the wall.
I was stuck on her casual comment. “I’ve never forgotten where I’m from.”
She blinked at me, eyes wide. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“No, you meant something.”
Scraping the concrete with the shovel, she didn’t answer right away. “You haven’t forgotten, but you don’t exactly want to remember.” She ran her lower lip through her teeth and her breath puffed around her face. “But it’s okay. I understand.”
She did. So why wasn’t it comforting to hear? She wasn’t begging me to stay. Even if she did, I wouldn’t. She wasn’t hanging on me until I left. She was living up her month of being married. Just like she’d said she would do.
I should be doing the same.
We worked on cleaning off the steps and sidewalk. When we were done, she stored the shovels. The snow wasn’t good for making snowballs, but I grabbed a loose chunk and lobbed it at her torso. It splattered in a weak shower of flakes.
Her mouth dropped and a scandalized expression filled her features. “You did not start that.”
I picked up another from the bank of cleared snow. “ Nope.” I tossed the second chunk. It shattered against her coat.
Her lips flattened into a line, but her eyes? Pure mutiny filled them. “Did you forget I have three older brothers?”
I’d been counting on it.
My firecracker launched herself at me. I was hit with a sweet-smelling bundle before toppling backward. I landed with an oomph. Laughter burst out of me, mixing with her giggles. Cold seeped through my clothing, but her heat chased it off.
“You think you can take me?” I flipped us. She was fully covered except for her face. I didn’t have to worry about her ass freezing off like mine.
Her laughter grew louder. The whole neighborhood was probably watching us. She grabbed a handful of snow and spritzed me in the face.
My girl fought dirty. I pushed up and yanked her with me as I went. She wobbled on her feet and I bent to throw her over my shoulder.
“Gideon!”
I smacked her ass and her laughter turned to a squeal. The neighbors were witnessing more than they’d bargained for, but I didn’t care. I was frolicking with my wife.
Reality sank in.
I was having fun. With my wife. Playing in the snow .
Who did I think I was? A real married man, ready to settle down and watch everything I wanted become someone else’s?
The writing was on the wall. In only days, it’d be on the contract, making my childhood home someone else’s. Was there a point in prolonging the inevitable? I’d had enough discomfort growing up. I’d also had an email from Harold asking me if we could meet this week. Of course, he’d asked about Wednesday. The day the deal was final—both the sale and this marriage.
I had been going to dump her in a snowbank, but I slid her down my body instead. My decision was made. “I have to leave early.”
Her smile froze, then melted like I was a toxic flame. “Oh.” She placed her gloved hands on my shoulders. “Okay. How early?”
“Tuesday.” The rest of the story piled in my head, ready to spill. I should’ve told her last week, but I’d thought a concrete decision would make itself clear. I wasn’t ready to leave Silver. But I also wasn’t ready to leave Bourbon Canyon. In business, that sometimes meant you had to do what you weren’t ready for. There was no other way to grow. In this case, there was no other way to move on but to actually move on. “I called Taya last week to hear what she had to talk about.”
A delicate brow arched. Did I spy a hint of jealousy? I missed the laughs and the smiles from only a minute ago.
“There’s this guy.” I was a massive dick. The sense I should’ve told her sooner was strong. Why? This was my job. My life. A major decision that was only mine to make. Since I wasn’t married for real. “We—Taya and I—have done business with him before through Silver.”
She tucked her chin into her scarf. Her freckles were stark against her reddened cheeks.
“He’s starting an investment group and he wants us to work for him.”
“You and Taya?”
I nodded. The emotion I’d first thought was jealousy turned to disappointment. “One of his first major projects is a casino. At least three of us will be involved, but it’ll be ours.”
“Yours?”
“He wants to meet on the same day Dad closes on the land. Fitting, isn’t it?”
Her breath puffed out. “Yeah. It is.”
I hated myself for ruining her mood. “Since you work during the day, I’ll hire a ride to the airport.”
“No. I can take you. I’ll find a sub.” She stepped away. “We’ll have to find a way to, uh, celebrate. The end.” She grimaced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know what you meant,” I said softly. We’d failed, but in this moment, it wasn’t the unfulfilled bargain that felt like the failure. No, that was my plan to leave town. “We did a thing.”
Her laugh was faint. “We get points for trying.”
“Let’s at least do lunch before the flight. And then you can drop me off at the airport.” Were there any other ways I could stretch out my time with her? Reverse the clock altogether?
“Right. It’s a date.” Her smile wavered. “Our first one.”
My month was coming to an end, and I hadn’t taken my wife out on a date. We’d been to places. We’d been together the whole time. But there’d been no official outing as a couple to enjoy being a couple.
“Yeah. A date.” One date with Autumn would never be enough, but if this trip had taught me anything, it was that I couldn’t have it all.
I stared at my phone sitting on the table. Autumn was working. I had the whole day to myself, but my laptop was closed. After a morning of answering emails, scheduling my flight, and arranging a time with Harold, my concentration was shot.
Except when I’d finished work, my mind had turned to Dad. Had he gotten all dug out? Should I tell him I was leaving? Did he care?
I hit Dad’s number on the phone. I put it on speaker, but I kept my ass in the chair.
He answered with a “Giddy.”
“Don’t call me Giddy.” Why did he always sound so happy to hear from me? “Did you get the snow cleared okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Tenor came by with his tractor. Got me unburied lickety-split.”
My normal resentment toward the Baileys wasn’t there. “Good. That’s good.”
“How about the newlyweds? Did you get dug out?”
My heart twisted. It’d be a relief when I no longer had to lie. Dancing around the truth was exhausting. “Yeah, we got the place cleaned out yesterday.”
“Good.”
The line went quiet. I could let the awkward silence stretch, or I could cut the idle chitchat. “I’m leaving tomorrow. So this is your last chance to reconsider.”
“You’re leaving already?”
“Something came up at work.” Another waltz around what was really going on. “I have an important meeting on Wednesday.”
“Oh.” Disappointment rang in that one word. “Do you and Autumn want to come over for dinner tonight?”
“We can’t tonight.” I had no good reason not to, other than I should talk to Autumn first. But I wasn’t going to see him again.
He’d offered dinner before, and I’d never taken him up on it. He also hadn’t pestered. After the way our last visit had gone, it was probably for the best.
“Well,” Dad continued, sounding deep in thought, “maybe when you get back.”
“I’m not coming back.” The finality made me stand up and start pacing. “I’ve gotta figure out how this is all going to go with my job. My bosses don’t like me being away.”
“And Autumn? Is she going to move?”
No. She wouldn’t. I stopped at the sink and stared out the window at her backyard, blanketed in white. “We’ll have to see. She doesn’t want to.”
“No, I can’t imagine she does.” If disheartened had a sound, it was Dad’s tone right now. “But I respect that you’re not pressuring her to change her life. That makes me glad.”
He’d be disappointed if he saw through this marriage. Another round of silence fell and a tiny spark of guilt flared in my gut. An entire month and nothing had changed between us.
An entire month and it had gone by in a blink because of Autumn.
Fuck. Enough of this. I didn’t owe him an apology or an explanation. “See ya when I see ya, Hank.”
His chuckle was dry and lined with regret. “You said the same thing when you moved away.”
I frowned. I had?
He remembered? He’d been sprawled on the couch, sleeping off a bad night. I hadn’t bothered sneaking out the door .
“I just hope it’s not another twenty-five years before I see you again, Giddy. Have a safe trip.”
My irritation was as hot as a brand. Was he trying to guilt me? After what he’d done? What he was doing? “I plan to have a nice life. Goodbye, Dad.”
I punched the screen to disconnect and stomped back to the window. I’d have a nice life. I’d have it all. I’d take the millions I wasn’t spending on Percival Farms and invest it somewhere. I’d be able to buy whatever land I wanted, wherever I wanted.
I could have it all.
And I’d start by telling Autumn I didn’t want this to be the end of us.