Chapter Twenty
It was later in the evening, after supper and dessert had been served to the cowboys, when Avery retired to his bedroom, the space holding a palpable void.
Sure, he was high from his win. And goddamn, that was a lot of money. So much money.
He had a small salary from the ranch, most of which went to his personal essentials and some of the gadgets and cast irons he preferred to use in the chuck hall—that he didn’t take out of his annual budget. But his house was paid for, as were the utilities. He did like having a housekeeper, so he paid for that himself. And whatever food and amenities she brought for him every week.
There wasn’t a huge need for a “raise,” given he got plenty in return for his job.
Thus, this prize money was substantial.
He’d run the tax implications through the ranch’s accountant and hand over a chunk to Ritchie to put in a savings account, in the event he ever did decide to leave this place ... or if he wanted to settle down here. With everyone pitching in, he’d be able to build a small home on the ridge for him and a wife—a family.
It was a scenario that warmed Avery’s heart.
As much as the distinctive ringtone that jingled his phone.
He connected with Layla, who had a pretty smile for him and a twinkle in her eyes.
“I waited until you were done with your work,” she said, “knowing you wouldn’t slack off, even after your coup. Way to go, cowboy. You were perfect all the way around.”
He grinned, despite the tightening in his chest.
She was just ... so damn beautiful.
And so damn far away.
He asked, “Any particular reason you opted to shoot the finale in Kansas City?”
“BBQ Capital of the World. I had a large conglomeration for an in-person audience. Interviewed a lot of the greats after the show, and even before, while I’ve been in town. Collected plenty of bonus content that’s being edited for a special segment tomorrow.”
“Then you’re off to where?”
He could have kicked himself for asking. But needed to know.
“Got some meetings lined up,” she told him, her expression turning somber.
His gut clenched with something akin to hope. “You don’t look too excited about them.”
“Oh, I am,” she quickly said.
The hope turned into dread.
“I have meet and greets with company representatives for those sponsorships and endorsements I mentioned,” she told him. “All over the country. Plus, I’m working on a proposal for my next project.”
“Always got irons in the fire,” he commented. Feeling a twinge in his soul.
Jesus, being in love wasn’t supposed to be this painful.
But maybe he’d get over her.
With Layla off doing what Layla did, perhaps this gaping hole in his heart would seal and he’d forget that he’d ever experienced it. That he’d been desperate to see her. Was so freaking close to begging her to come to the ranch.
She had her own life to get on with, though. Her new life.
And given that Avery understood she needed to be freed from those bonds of the past, he wouldn’t attempt to tie her down further.
The bird adage came to mind.
He didn’t even have to open the cage door. She did that just fine herself.
She softly said, “It was good to see you.”
Maybe she’d already gotten over him.
“You too, darlin’. I’m gonna call it a night now.”
“Early morning, I know.”
They both lingered on the line.
He let out a puff of air. “No point to drawing this out,” he told her.
She nodded. Then said, “Goodbye, then. Take care of yourself, cowboy.”
“Same to you. Safe travels and good luck with ... everything.”
He dropped the call. Before either of them added something that would make it even harder to part.
This was tortuous enough.
He was already gutted. He didn’t need to be filleted.
There’d be nothing left of him.
Layla knew a heavy agenda would help to keep her mind off Avery.
Or so she continued to tell herself. That hadn’t happened while she was hosting the last segments of the show or while she’d prepped for the finale. Even being on the “road” now (though she was mostly flying here and there) didn’t help to contain him in a shadowy part of her brain. Too many things had him jumping front and center.
It didn’t help matters that all the opportunities she explored were related to the BBQ world. Which not only had her thinking about Avery but also her daddy.
And when there was a break in her schedule, she found herself on that long driveway that split the farm in half. Gravel crunched under the tires of her rental. To the right were rows and rows of cornstalks. To the left was a lush lawn with shady trees that gave way to a vast garden.
Ahead was the house, a detached garage, and a barn for equipment and supplies.
A tractor pulled out of the upper quadrant and circled behind her in the roundabout, which had perennials planted in the middle. These were new additions. She paid them little attention, however.
Her gaze flitted to the rearview mirror as her daddy, as strong and sturdy as an oak, cut the engine on the tractor and hopped to the ground, bringing tears of relief—and other emotions—to her eyes, covered by sunglasses.
She pulled in deep breaths to compose herself. But they were fragile at best. Her heart all but seized up. When people said an overwhelming amount of stress made it feel as though an elephant sat on their chest ... she now understood the expression—and the sensation.
But since she was actually here, she wouldn’t pretend she had the wrong address and drive off without talking to him.
She exited the vehicle, just as he was stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overalls.
He gave a friendly grin, his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun, showing some wrinkles against his tanned skin. Though in truth ... the man had barely aged.
There were obvious signs, of course. But they were minimal. In fact, he looked damn good for someone who worked long days outdoors. He still had broad, set shoulders. A casual though confident stance, warmth exuding from him.
He said, “Welcome. Are you here for Addie’s book club meeting? She moved it to next weekend, and I’m afraid you must not have gotten her call or voicemail message.”
Ah, the perfect excuse for Layla to get back in her car and disappear from his life again.
With all the feelings choking her up so that she couldn’t even speak, it might be the sensible thing to do. Give him a wave and be gone.
She’d seen in person that he was well. That the farm was in excellent condition. That the clapboard house and outbuildings all had a fresh coat of sage paint with crisp white trim. And, apparently, he had a woman in his life.
All of this filled her heart with joy. Eased some of the pressure and tension within her.
He gave her an expectant look, if not a curious one.
Perhaps the more accurate word was “concern.”
She realized her hands were shaking, and the corners of her mouth quivered. She wanted to smile. She wanted to say something. Anything.
But damn. She could barely even breathe.
“Shall I get Addie?” he asked in a lower tone, one meant to assure her that being out in the middle of nowhere with a man of his physical stature was nothing to fear.
That thought almost had a laugh slipping from her parted lips—of the hysterical variety. Not in the funny way.
He took a step back.
“No, no, no!” she suddenly blurted out. “I’m not afraid of you. And I’m not lost ... at least, not anymore. And I’m not here for Addie’s book club. I’m here for ... you.”
Her tears started to spill behind the dark lenses.
His jaw clenched for a moment. Then he shook his head, his expression turning to confusion.
Did he recognize her voice?
Figuring she was all in at this point, she removed the sunglasses and stared up at him.
His gaze narrowed. His mouth opened, and his jaw worked, like he was a fish attempting to expel a hook.
And succeeded.
He regained the step between them. Held her gaze and said, “I know those eyes.”
She gave a slow nod as more tears fell.
“And the voice,” he said. “But the face and the hair ... you’re not who I think you are.”
“Oh, but I am!” she cried. “Today, I am, Daddy. I can explain everything. I just ... I just want to look at you a few minutes more.”
“Tess ...” Now it was his eyes that watered, tugging even harder on her heartstrings.
“Yes,” she said on a fractured breath. “It’s really me, Daddy.”
“Oh, good Lord, girl.” He swooped in to gather her in his arms.
She flung hers around his neck and sobbed.
For how long, she had no idea. And he was in no hurry to release her.
She had so much to say, so much to apologize for. She’d even committed to telling him the truth about New York and Christopher—because he deserved to know what had lured her away. What had kept her away.
And that she was safe now.
For these endless moments, however, she let her daddy hold her and console her. Giving as much love to him as she received.
Another three weeks passed, and not so much as a speck of inner peace filled that hole in Avery’s heart that his separation from Layla—and their subsequent breakup—had torn wide open.
Didn’t keep him from losing concentration at the chuck hall, though.
Nor was the agony assuaged when Wyatt came from town with a box and handed it to him at the dinner table.
“Picked this up at the post office,” she said. And wagged her brows with intrigue and excitement.
Avery noted that the return address label was from Todd’s production company.
More reminders of love lost.
He used his pocketknife to slice through the tape and pushed back the flaps. The inside had a protective bubble roll that he discarded for the twins to destroy later.
He pulled out a plaque with his name on a gold plate and “Best Bunkhouse Cook” underneath it. Above that was a belt buckle with gilded edges mounted to the wood.
“I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Didn’t know they were going to give me something official.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Chance asked. “Those were notable judges with their own titles. And the entire production turned into a national—maybe even an international—phenomenon.”
True fact. Ale had set up a Facebook page for Avery, and his timeline and DMs were flooded with fans’ comments and messages. After about the twelfth marriage proposal, he’d given up on social media.
Didn’t have the time for it anyway.
He handed the plaque to Chance, who admired it before passing it around the table.
“You did good, little bro,” Chance told him with a grin. “Not that I expected anythin’ less from you. You don’t really know how to f-up.”
Aunt Brett grimaced.
Ale whispered, “I think that one’s on the list, too, Uncle Chance.”
Avery chuckled. Needing these brief moments of levity because, Christ, even his soul felt like deadweight.
He returned his attention to the box and extracted an envelope. Inside was a check.
For an amount he still couldn’t wrap his mind around.
He gave it to Jack, at the head of the table.
Jack held it, eyeing it, as his other elbow was propped next to his plate, his arm crooked, his finger sweeping across his bottom lip as the pad of his thumb pressed to his jaw.
Very contemplative-like.
Avery sighed. “There’s nothing to deliberate over, Jack. I never go back on my word, and you know it. So let me take what I need after I pay the taxman. I’ll dole out a portion to Ritchie and get us some state-of-the-art equipment for the chuck hall. The remainder goes to the ranch.”
“We could put those funds in the bunkhouse account,” Mateo offered in his diplomatic fashion, “and keep it as a buffer. We get lean years sometimes, Jack. No need to make the cowboys suffer. They don’t stop ranchin’ just because we’re inching toward the red.”
“I don’t really see that happening in the future.”
A new voice joined the conversation.
Thevoice.
The one that haunted Avery’s dreams and whispered to him when she wasn’t even there.
His shattered heart leaped. Truly leaped.
As did the rest of him. He was out of his seat in a nanosecond, spinning around to face the entrance to the dining room.
While a collective gasp rippled behind him.
Layla wore another of her flared dresses, this one in a floral print. She had on ankle boots and carried with her a leather portfolio, cradled in her arm.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Aunt Brett sighed. “That one was warranted,” she told the boys.
Layla gave Avery her brightest smile, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I have news,” she announced. “I asked Todd to hold off on sending you that box until I had all my ducks in a row. Most of them anyhow. The ones that’d make this ranch enough cash to line all the coffers, not just the chuck hall account.”
“I’m interested in hearing this,” Wyatt stated with enthusiasm.
“I think y’all will be. May I join you?”
Ale hastily vacated his chair and said, “You can sit here, Miss Layla.” Then he pushed his brother out of the seat next to his and told Hunt, “Go sit by Mom.”
Hunt didn’t argue because it got him that much closer to Jillian, who he still crushed on, despite it being a hopeless venture.
Feel my pain, boy.
Avery shooed Ale away and held the chair out for Layla. Didn’t scoot her in since she had that thick portfolio in her lap.
He settled into his own seat, fighting for a breath.
She didn’t leave them questioning her unexpected arrival.
“Avery gave me the gate code that was recently changed. I’m guessing that came about after Luke delivered Caleb’s letters and the cash.”
“That man is still not welcome here,” Avery said, his tone sharper than usual when it came to this subject—because she knew about the letters. “You went to see him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” she told him without hesitation.
“And you failed to mention that during the times we talked?” He tried to curb the angst. The shock. The ... whatever it was that he was feeling.
“I did it on impulse,” she explained. “I’d said that I didn’t believe he was threatening me, when I put more thought into it.”
“What’s this?” Jack asked, concern tinging his tone.
Avery waved him off. “Different story for a different time.” To Layla, he said, “You shouldn’t have done that, honey. You had no idea what he might have been up to, and—”
“Too late for the lecture, Avery,” she commented. “And I’m sorry I didn’t divulge this before or after I went. I didn’t know how it would all play out. But I sensed, primarily from his online profile, that there was something to investigate. I learned a lot. Whether you want to know about it is up to you.”
“Avery didn’t read his letter,” Chance commented.
“Neither did you,” Avery countered.
“Mine’s in a drawer. Yours is gone forever.”
Aunt Brett cleared her throat. All eyes flashed to her.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I pulled it from the recycle bin. Just in case you changed your mind down the road, Avery. Regretted not opening it.”
Avery got to his feet again. To pace.
“That’s not the reason I’m here,” Layla said. “What I’ve collected over the past weeks are official offers from organizations wanting Avery’s—and Jack’s—face on their marketing campaigns. As well as mine.” She unzipped her leather case and retrieved a file folder. She stood and rounded the table to Wyatt, handing it over. “I know you have other offers on the table, but as Jack’s marketing manager, you might want to also look these over, then consult with a lawyer if y’all make any decisions. That’s the extent of my involvement.”
“I thought they were BSing me when they were posting to my socials,” Jack murmured.
“Not at all. These are vetted,” Layla assured him. “As for Avery ...” She had a folder for him too. “Sky’s the limit on what you want to pursue. As I mentioned previously, they contacted me before you put up a website, and a lot of the offers are joint ones—for you and me to act as a spokesteam. The reason I’ve been taking all these meetings.”
His head snapped back. “Thought you were off to explore other pastures for the show.”
“I have been. I will continue to do so. However ... the thing is ...” She gazed up at him, her lashes fluttering. “I’m game for this sort of collab—with you. In fact ...” She selected another file and gave it to him. “This is my proposal for season six. Filmed on the ranch.”
“What?”He stared at her.
She smiled. Softly. And said, “It’s an excellent platform. Check it out. Ranch living, ranch cooking, ranch—”
“What are you saying?” he quietly demanded, emotion tearing through him.
“It’s not like Jack and Jillian’s show, Avery. Instructional to a degree, yes, but it’s more about the lifestyle and the techniques. What you can do with the tools you’ve mastered, including the trenches. I am recommending a cookbook, absolutely. But, again, it’ll be primal grilling, not similar to Rub It In. This’ll be more earthy. There’s more of a ... oh, heck. Read the proposal.”
His brow knitted.
She groaned and said, “Okay, let me give you a little something to nibble on.”
That was precisely what he wanted. But they weren’t there yet.
Yet.
She flipped open the cover and pointed to a list of figures on the first page.
“Your salary,” she said as she indicated the top line. “My salary.” The next line. “Ritchie’s salary, and a miscellaneous budget for food and supplies, plus a temporary cook to assist you or Ritchie when you’re away from the ranch.”
“I’m not planning on being away from the ranch, darlin’.” He was quite adamant about that. To hell with the endorsements. He’d contended all along that his place was here with his family—and running the chuck hall. He’d stay true to his word.
“I understand, cowboy. Though ...” She closed the folder and took all the paperwork from him, setting it on top of her chair. Glancing back at him, she said, “I want you to go somewhere with me.”
“A honeymoon might be nice,” Chance muttered.
Avery shot him a look. Because his brother wasn’t helping matters. Avery was a bit twisted around by all of this. But he wouldn’t be manipulated into changing his mind, his course of direction. Or going against his own grain.
“Darlin’, I’m not gonna go see Caleb Reed. That’s a done deal. And while I respect your initiative, because it’s your prerogative to know him or not, and”—he glimpsed at his aunt—“I appreciate you being considerate enough to preserve something you think I might want to read in the future. But the bottom line is that I carved that man out of my life the day he left here. I’m good with that decision.”
“And that’s all up to you,” Layla said. “What I want, cowboy,” she told him as she stepped closer to him, her voice lowering, tears filling her eyes, “is for you to meet my daddy. Maybe ask him for my hand.”
“Aw, Jesus.” Emotion crested over Avery, though he still managed to gesture to the boys to not say a word about his swearing.
Layla splayed her palms over his pecs and stared up at him again. “Didn’t take but being out of your bed even one night to know it’s where I belong. Where I want to be. I just had to work some things out so that I could come back to you, cowboy.”
The gesturing swung toward Chance, telling him to shut it, when Avery knew he wanted to let out an I told you so.
Avery brought that hand to his face, dragging it downward and then rubbing his jawline.
“I’m a bit perplexed,” he confessed.
“She’s proposin’ to you, jackass.” This from Jack.
“What is this, a free-for-all with the cussin’?” Aunt Brett admonished.
“I think one night is acceptable,” Mateo said, always the voice of reason. “Given the circumstances.”
Layla smiled through her tears.
“What do you say, Avery? Still in love with me?”
“You know I am.”
“Still want me?”
“You know I do.”
“Still—”
“Layla.” Everything inside him finally unraveled. And his heart swelled. He got to one knee, taking her hand in his. And said, “Marry me.”
Not even a question.
It didn’t need to be. He realized that now.
All this time, she’d been working her way back to him.
Back to them.
She said, “You giving me the time to figure out where I’m supposed to be also let me decide who I want to be going forward. It’s a no-brainer,” she said on a broken breath. “I want to be here, on the ranch. With you.”
He stood. Swept his fingers over her cheek. And told her, “Honey, all I want is for you to be mine.”
“I always will be, cowboy.” She kissed him, then murmured against his lips, “I always will be.”