Chapter Nineteen
Matty is in a mood.
Not her usual all-business, tight-jawed, let’s get it done mood. This is different. It’s like she’s holding herself together with baling twine and sheer will.
She’s been barking orders since sunrise and then disappearing into her office like it’s the only place she can breathe. By midmorning, she snaps at Cabe for parking the tractor too close to the fence line and then tearfully apologizes ten minutes later. Now she’s disappeared again.
Yesterday, she left halfway through the afternoon and never came back. Didn’t answer texts.
Caison finally called to say she went to his place and fell asleep, watching a movie. Which isn’t a big deal. It’s just not like her to not tell Grandma she was going to miss supper.
That alone is enough to set all of us on edge.
Charli, Cabe, and I are standing at the back of Cabe’s truck while he unloads feed, the late afternoon sun slanting low across the yard.
“She missed the progress meeting with the contractors this morning,” Cabe says, lifting a bag onto his shoulder. “Called me five minutes before they showed up to tell me she overslept and asked me to get Albert to handle it.”
I blink. “Why didn’t she just call Daddy herself?”
He shakes his head. “Hell if I know.”
“It’s so not like her,” Charli says.
No, it really isn’t.
Matty Storm is the most professional person I know. She could be bleeding out, and she’d still show up ten minutes early with an attitude and a plan.
Charli leans against the truck bed, arms crossed. “Maybe she and Caison are fighting.”
Cabe snorts. “About what? They practically live up each other’s ass.”
Charli shrugs. “Doesn’t mean they don’t fight.”
I don’t say anything, but my stomach tightens. Grandma has been hovering all day too—poking her head out of the house more than usual, asking if anyone’s heard from Matty, offering food like that might fix whatever’s wrong.
Concern hums through the ranch like a low wire.
A familiar sound of tires crunching over gravel causes me to look up just as Waylon’s truck pulls into the yard.
He climbs out and comes around to the passenger side, opening the door and unbuckling Ruby from her car seat.
“Hey, Ruby,” I say with a smile.
Her face lights up instantly. “Hi, Shelby!”
She practically launches herself into my arms before her feet hit the ground. I laugh, steady her, and set her down just as her eyes catch sight of the porch.
“Grandma Evelyn!” she squeals.
Sure enough, Grandma is standing there with a glass pitcher of lemonade in one hand, plate of cookies in the other.
Ruby takes off at a dead run.
Waylon watches her go, shaking his head with a fond little smile. “Do all your students get that kind of treatment?”
I snort. “No. Only the ones who wrap Grandma around their finger.”
He chuckles, but he doesn’t look in my direction, keeping his eyes on Ruby as she climbs the porch steps.
Before I can say anything else, another truck pulls into the yard.
Dixon.
“Be right back,” I tell Waylon.
He gives me a curt nod and heads toward the porch, joining Ruby and Grandma.
Great.
Everyone’s acting strange today.
I turn toward Dixon as he climbs out of his truck, hat tipped back, that easy grin already in place.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey yourself. What brings you out today?”
“Matty rescheduled me for this evening,” he says.
My brow furrows. “She did?”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Said something came up next week.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. She’s not here.”
“Oh,” he says, clearly confused. “Maybe I got the day wrong.” He pulls his phone out to check their text thread.
“Well?”
He waves it off. “No big deal. Just gives me an excuse to come back out here and see you all again.”
Charli snorts beside me.
Dixon’s eyes flick to me, warm and curious. “Actually … I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna grab a drink this weekend?”
The question hits me sideways.
“I—” I start.
“Sure,” Charli says brightly. “She’d love that.”
I shoot her a look.
Dixon just grins. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay, um, sure. That’d be great.”
Then he’s back in his truck and pulling away.
“You’re welcome,” Charli chirps as she picks up a bucket and follows Cabe into the barn.
“Whatever,” I call after her.
I glance toward the porch.
Waylon is watching.
And he looks … pissed.
Not glaring exactly. Just tight. Jaw set. Shoulders stiff.
What the hell is his problem?
We’ve been getting along better the last couple of weeks. He’s been on time to every lesson, like he promised. Sometimes freshly showered. Sometimes covered in dirt. But he shows up.
Ruby’s been doing great.
Last session, I introduced trotting, and she took to it like she’d been doing it her whole life. Growing more confident every day.
I walk up to the porch just as Ruby finishes her lemonade. Her cookies sit untouched on the plate.
That’s unusual.
“You ready, kiddo?” I ask.
She nods, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Okay,” I say gently. “Let’s go see Honey.”
We walk to the barn, Ruby quiet between us. I tack Honey up and run Ruby through a few drills, but something’s off. Ruby is unfocused, missing cues she normally nails, her shoulders slumping, like she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t know how to name.
I call it early.
Ruby nods when I tell her and heads toward the house to use the bathroom.
Waylon exhales. “Sorry about that. She didn’t sleep great last night.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Happens.”
He’s still not looking at me.
“She started day care over at the church today. It’s just half days. Momma thought it might be good for her to adjust and make some friends before she starts kindergarten next year.”
“That’s a big adjustment.”
“Yeah.”
I hesitate, then ask, “Is something else wrong?”
He finally meets my eyes.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I need to talk to you about something.”
My heart jumps. “Okay.”
But before he can say another word, Ruby comes running back, tears streaming down her face. “Daddy!”
He scoops her up instantly. “Hey, baby. Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
She shakes her head. “My eyes just started leaking.”
He chuckles softly, holding her close. “Well, that’s okay, I guess. Sometimes, you just need to bleed the brakes.”
“I’m not bleeding,” she whines.
He smiles into her hair. “No, baby. You’re not bleeding. But you had a big day. I bet you’re tired. And I bet your tummy is hungry.”
Her sobs fade into sniffles. She nods against his chest.
“How about we go home and you can take a bath,” he says gently, “and I’ll make dinner and we can eat it in our pajamas?”
Her head lifts. She wipes her nose with her sleeve. “Tacos?”
He grins and presses his forehead to hers. “Tacos it is.”
She cups his cheeks with both hands. “Okay, Daddy.”
Tears prick my eyes as I watch how tenderly he handles her.
He sets her down, and she runs for the truck.
Waylon turns back to me. “I think I should get her home. Can we … talk later?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Thanks.”
He leaves me standing at the barn, still holding Honey’s reins.
“Waylon?”
He turns back to me.
“She’ll be okay. It’s just growing pains. And female emotions.”
He nods. “God help me.”
“You’d better hope so.”
He smiles, and I watch as this big, rugged cowboy gently secures his tiny girl into her car seat. Whispering sweetly and patiently as she whines. Then he brushes her hair from her face and kisses her forehead before shutting her in.
And I swear it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
He waves as they drive away, dust curling behind them.
What a weird damn day.