Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
MIA
Heat shimmers across red clay. Katydids roar like mini rattlers. The wind sweeps through the tall grass on the edge of the property.
Anticipation burgeons behind my ribs.
I don’t know whether he’s here. Yet, I feel him to the marrow of my bones.
In the distance, verdant green parses the golden plains. Row upon row of lines, emerald vines snaking upward around wire and twine. Pea or bean plants if I had to guess.
Shading my eyes against the sun, I stare up through the rows. They have to be a good twenty feet tall, maybe more. They cast columns of shade in the surrounding grass, swishing and swaying with the breeze, bathing me in momentary cool as I walk the line.
Silvery irrigation ditches run next to them, cooling the surrounding land.
A fat robin darts between vines, warbling and warning as I draw closer. Must have a nest nearby. A painted bunting flits past, riotous feathers giving it away. A luminous hummingbird hovers low, beak dipping toward my hair.
I laugh under my breath, swatting the iridescent beauty away. “My hair’s not a flower,” I scold.
Then, I see him.
Off in the distance, a tall man paces. Slight limp, beige hat slung low over dark eyes. He walks between fence posts, measuring them with his stride. Then, testing wire, hands working. More a rancher than a bodyguard, his measured movements and silent gaze attest.
I walk between the emerald trellises, breath held, catching glimmers of the big man between each row. He appears, disappears. Again and again, as my throat tightens, and I mentally string words together.
Don’t know if I’ll be able to speak. Breath already stuttering, pulse racing.
I touch the silver circle necklace, cool turquoise, to steady myself.
Suddenly, he stops, stills for a long, silent moment. As if he senses a change in the wind.
I wait, holding my breath. Uncertain if I’ve made the right move coming here.
He turns slowly, scanning the green strands until our eyes meet.
They lock.
He doesn’t smile.
Doesn’t speak.
Just stares for a breathless moment that stretches forever.
I open my mouth. My voice fails me.
Then, he bows his head, takes a step toward me. Hesitates, resting his hands on his hips. “Didn’t know if you’d come.”
“I didn’t know if I was allowed.”
A flash of teeth, a steady smile—he crosses the distance to me. I hold my breath, walking on one side of the hops, him on the other, catching flickers of each other between vegetation until we meet at the end in pastoral fields stretching off toward the horizon in all directions.
“Good soil. Alfalfa proves it,” he says.
I nod, side-eyeing the cowboy—breathing in pine soap and that something darker I can’t get enough of. He’s taller than I remember, though it’s only been days. His face square-cut and rugged, his body a wall of muscle.
“Good water access. Fencing mostly decent.” He removes his hat, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead. “Strong windbreaks and the shelter of mountains mean it’s quiet most of the time. A natural shelter from twisters.”
“And these,” I say, finally finding my voice, striding toward the long lines of green. “Peas, beans, whatever. They grow beautifully.”
“Hops,” he says, warm eyes dancing over my face. “Nothing happens the first year. Growth takes time. Don’t see payoff immediately, but they come back stronger each season.”
We continue silently along the uneven ground. Only inches apart but not touching.
I push my hair off my face, fighting the welcome breeze. Just enough to cool the perspiration kissing my arms.
Maverick stops, eyes veering off to one side. Then, he gestures, drawls slowly, “Thinking alpaca stables over there where we can take advantage of the afternoon shade from the cottonwoods. And maybe,” he points to a spot not far from the ranch house, “a wool shop over there.”
The world slows.
Maverick nods, eyes simmering now. Smile boyish and unguarded.
My hand goes to my chest. My breath hitches, and a sting hits the back of my eyes.
His face goes serious, eyes washing over me. “I didn’t reach out because I didn’t want to be another voice deciding things for you.”
Instead of words, I step forward and take his hand. Our fingers tangle. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as we walk toward the same horizon.