Chapter 3
three
M ission’s heart had been replaced with a sack of flour. His chest constricted against it, and he struggled to find a way to keep breathing. He managed to look over to Hannah too, beyond irritated that Kristie had looked to her for—what? Permission?
The seconds of silence stretched into an eternity, each one feeling like a dagger to his pride. This was why he hadn’t asked Kristie out before.
Panic surged through him, and he wished his granddad had just kept his mouth closed. He couldn’t stand to get rejected in front of his grandfather, Hannah, and everyone else at this party.
His party—this was supposed to be his party.
He whipped his hand into his pocket, where his very still and silent phone sat. “Oh, Deacon’s calling me.” He rose to his feet and turned his back on the table, the need to get away from her before she told him no like an impossible-to-reach itch.
Before he could take a step, he spun back to the table. He took a deep breath, and his courage returned. He deliberately looked past Kristie to Hannah. “And hey, I was thinkin’ me and you could go to dinner together too, Hannah. If you’d like to.”
Her eyes widened, but she said, “Sure,” easily and without hesitation, which salvaged his pride. Her gaze flicked over to Kristie, who still sat there like he’d flicked icy lemon juice in her face, and back to him.
He nodded, glared at his granddad, and wouldn’t let himself look at Kristie before he turned again. This time, he stumbled over his own blasted boots, but somehow managed to stay upright.
Curses flew through his mind, but Mission made it around the corner. His chest heaved as he pressed his back to the warmed wood there and let his eyes drift closed.
He could only imagine Kristie’s expression right now. Or the way she may have huddled together with Hannah, the two of them whispering about him.
Him.
His worst nightmare—being talked about.
Mission couldn’t stay here, and he couldn’t simply abandon the party. He opened his eyes, his gaze landing on the medical barn. He pushed away from the wall, his destination singular now.
Once inside the barn, Mission leaned against the wall, the cool, familiar scent of hay and leather surrounding him, offering a small comfort.
“Seriously,” he chastised himself. “What were you thinking?” He shrugged out of that too-tight coat and removed his cowboy hat. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to settle down enough to find the nerve to return to the party.
The weight of his insecurities pressed down on him, pancaking him into the ground.
Something about Kristie had made his mouth dry for months now.
Made him eat more turkey sandwiches, his thoughts stuck on the time—the only time—he’d done so with her.
Made him talk about her with Granddad—and look where that had gotten him.
The sound of the door to the medical barn opening put Mission on high alert.
Not that he could do anything about it; he couldn’t hide anywhere in the small barn.
He straightened up, composing his features into what he hoped made a neutral expression.
The last thing he needed was for someone to see him wallowing.
To his surprise, Kristie poked her head into the barn. “Mission, there you are.”
Could that be relief in her voice?
Don’t be stupid , he told himself.
She seemed to be trying to catch her breath as she pressed one hand almost to her throat, her chest rising and falling quickly. “I should’ve known.”
“You should’ve known I’d be in the medical barn?” Mission's heart rate picked up again at the saltiness in his own voice, and he raised his chin slightly. At the same time, he let his gaze draw down over her pretty purple sweater, the hip-swell of her jeans, to those cowgirl boots.
“I like your boots,” he said, his eyes darting all around now.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice crisp but kind, and that alone made Mission look at her again.
He swallowed even as the corners of her mouth tipped up. He had no idea what to do with a smile from her pointed in his direction.
“These are my favorite boots,” she said. “I?—”
Nope, not happening. “Look, Kristie, you don’t have to explain anything. Really. I understand if you’re not interested.”
Did he, though?
Mission wasn’t sure he did.
Still, he said, “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”
“That’s not it at all, Mission.” She ducked her head and tucked that gloriously golden hair behind her ear. And all this time, Mission thought he wasn’t into blondes. How wrong he’d been.
“I’d like to go to dinner with you,” she said. “I was just caught off guard is all.” She scuffed the toe of one boot against the floor. “I haven’t dated in a while.”
Mission blinked, sure he had misheard. “You…what?”
She looked up at him, but she was quite a tall woman, and he only had a few inches on her. “Do you really want to go out with Hannah?”
“No,” he said flatly.
She took a step toward him. “But you do want to go out with me.”
“I already said I did, didn’t I?”
Her smile widened. “You don’t have to sound so mad about it.”
He stood there, just looking at her, the air between them charged with possibility. Mission found himself thinking about how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her, to finally know what her lips felt like against his.
Clearing his throat and hoping his thoughts would go too, Mission realized he was still holding his phone with the phantom call from Deacon. He quickly shoved the device away. “So, uh, maybe Friday night for dinner?”
Kristie pulled her phone out. “Friday….”
Mission hated this silence, because she’d just said she hadn’t dated in a while. Did she really need to check her phone?
He tamped down his impatience, and raised his eyebrows as Kristie looked up from her device. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“You have dinner at your parents’ house.”
Kristie didn’t crack a smile. “No,” she said. “My parents don’t live in Colorado.”
Mission blinked, his curiosity about her doubling. “So…one of your cats needs a tooth pulled, and you’ve scheduled it for Friday night?”
That got her to lift the corner of her lips. “Not quite,” she said. “I do have plans with some friends, though.” She tucked her phone in her back pocket. “But I’m free on Saturday night.”
“Great,” Mission said. “I should be too.” Farms and ranches and animals needed to be cared for twenty-four-seven, but Mission had worked at the Hammond Family Farm for years, and they always had lighter schedules on the weekends.
He planned to continue that tradition, and he could make sure he got back to his cabin for a shower by five o’clock for a dinner date. “Where do you live?”
“I could just meet you somewhere,” she said.
Mission took a step toward her, then another one, his irritation lifting with every breath he took. “Like…what? We’re just friends getting together for coffee? Or a plate of spaghetti?” He shook his head as she fell back against the door of the medical barn.
He pressed in closer, something firing through him he didn’t quite understand.
He reached up and tucked that loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’m too old for meeting women places. If you don’t want to go out with me, I’d rather you just said so.
If you don’t want me to come to your house to pick you up, just say so. ”
Kristie pulled in a breath, her eyes locked on his. “How old are you?”
“Forty-two,” he said smoothly. “And just because I was raised by my grandparents doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.” He managed a half-smile as he dropped his hand back to his side. “I won’t ask you how old you are.”
He really wasn’t sure, but she had to be at least thirty. Women in their twenties put off a different vibe, and it wasn’t anything like what Mission had seen from Kristie.
“My birthday is comin’ up in October.”
“My birthday is in October too,” Kristie whispered, and he wondered if she just couldn’t make a noise louder than that.
He backed up a step, his own chest unnaturally tight. “If you want to go to dinner on Saturday at seven, you can text me your address when you get a minute.” He cleared his throat and reached for the doorknob at her hip. “I have to get back to my own party. Excuse me.”
Mission twisted the knob, glad when Kristie moved to the side so he could leave. If he had to keep breathing in her tangerine-scented perfume and be tempted by those curves, he had no idea what he’d say or do.
“You’ve already proven you’ll say and do anything,” he muttered to himself as he left the medical barn. He’d only taken a few steps toward the party when another set of footsteps joined his.
Kristie.
She didn’t touch him, and Mission sternly told himself not to reach for her. Everyone he knew and loved had come to this party, and he couldn’t be seen walking in hand-in-hand with a woman who still barely seemed to like him.
Wouldn’t let him come pick her up. They could meet somewhere.
He scoffed out of the side of his mouth as he rejoined the party, immediately deviating from Kristie’s side as he went back to the buffet line and picked up a new paper plate.
Mission kept his head down as he loaded a second plate with food, and he returned to the table, where Granddad was now surrounded by Hammonds.
Tucker, Deacon, Hunter, Gray. The five of them laughed about something, and they all looked to Mission as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
“I’m so glad you’re going to be at the reins,” Gray said, his heart of gold shining for all to see.
“I’ll do my best, sir,” Mission said, and the words sounded like a growl to his own ears.
“Hey, brother.” Tarr Olson sat down beside Mission, a blue-wrapped present nearly landing in his potato salad. “I got you something.”
Mission scooped a bite of mayo-mustardy potato salad into his mouth and set down his fork. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“There’s a whole table of gifts,” Hunter said.
Horror moved through Mission, and he didn’t dare pick up the long, rectangular gift Tarr had brought. He swung his attention to Hunt. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m so not.” He nodded with his cowboy hat back over toward the corner of the administration building. “Tarr must’ve missed it on his way in.”
“Tarr misses a lot of things lately,” Tuck teased, and that earned him a glare from the former rodeo star. “You should ask him why.”
“Why’s that?” Deacon asked without missing a beat. He barely looked up from his plate of food as he spoke, and he didn’t look at Tarr.
Everyone else had focused on him, though, Mission included. Tarr glared at Tuck, who continued to eat, his grin as wide as ever.
“You don’t have to say,” Mission said, shooting a look over to Tuck. “Not everyone likes to spill everything. Some of us like to keep things a little closer to the vest.”
Deacon looked up then. “You have things you need to keep close to the vest?”
“No,” Mission said at the same time Tarr said, “Leave the man alone. It’s his first day on the job.”
“Then divert the attention back to you,” Tuck said. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything, so I will.” He picked up a chocolate chip cookie, giving Tarr a place to cut him off.
He didn’t. In fact, Tarr picked up a potato chip and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly as Tuck dragged out the silence.
Finally, he said, “He’s dating a woman named Casey.”
“He’s dating?” Deacon asked, no inflection in his voice. “That’s what you’re worked up about?” He rolled his eyes and reached for his napkin. He wiped his mouth and beard and added, “Tarr dates a lot. This is not a national event.”
“It would be if you started dating someone,” Hunter said.
Deacon’s eyes flew to his oldest brother’s. His shoulders deflated as he huffed out his breath. “Hunt. I expect such a statement from Tuck, but you? You wound me.”
“Why don’t you date someone?” Tucker asked.
“Because I haven’t met anyone I care to spend more than fifteen minutes with,” Deacon said dryly. “Present company included.” He got to his feet, threw Hunter a glare, and tossed his napkin on his now-empty plate.
“Deac, don’t go,” Hunter said. “I’m sorry.”
Deacon grunted as he turned and walked away, and Hunter frowned at his back, and then over to Tucker. “He’s right; Tarr dates a lot. I thought you were going to have real news.”
“Boys,” Gray said, his voice powerful and quiet, the way he’d always been.
Mission looked at the four of them still there. “I could use some advice,” he said, immediately clearing his throat. He’d only made it through half of his food yet again, but he sat back again.
“I have a date this weekend with someone I’ve liked for a while—and I’m pretty nervous about it.
” He cleared his throat and looked at Gray first. He’d gotten married close to Mission’s age, and his and Elise’s love story was one of the main reasons Mission hadn’t given up hope that he’d find someone quite yet.
“I’d take some advice,” Mission said, glancing over to Tuck and then Tarr. “You guys never seemed to have a problem getting a date.”
“Neither have you,” Hunter said. “So the real question is—why is this woman different?”