Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
I’m just pulling into a parking spot on the street after circling the crowded grocery store for ten minutes when Nathan and his mom leave the store, their cart piled high, cases of beer filling the shelf below.
Cold panic crawls up my chest. I don’t want to hide, but I also have no intention of standing around making chitchat with the man who still makes me uneasy. Even though I don’t miss him anymore, talking to him will just remind me of the messed-up girl I became when we were together.
It makes sense that they’re here buying supplies for all the merriment they no doubt have planned for the lead up to next week’s nuptials, but it somehow feels like an insult.
I was the one who introduced Nate to Finn River.
Why is he getting married here? Could Georgia have grown up here?
Does she know that this is my hometown? What has he told her about me?
My breaths accelerate in my chest. Frantic worry overtakes me so fast, like I’m falling behind in a race I didn’t know I was running.
I squeeze my fists and shut my eyes so I can concentrate.
Do not give in to these feelings. There’s no need to dig my claws into anything related to Nathan or his wedding.
No need to spend my energy questioning if Nathan is somehow orchestrating it to torment me.
No need to hyperfocus on Georgia either.
As much as I want to warn her or even protect her, she’s not my responsibility.
Because even if I manage to find the answers to my questions, it won’t allow me to feel any more in control.
I can hold my curiosity gently. I can even wish Nathan the best and leave it at that.
He doesn’t get a say in my life anymore.
In my rearview, Nathan and his mom pack the groceries into a Suburban.
A parking lot attendant takes the empty cart, and the Suburban drives off.
The hamsters running full tilt in my brain ease to a trot, and I take a slow, full breath.
On the walk to the store’s entrance, I refocus my mind by thinking back to my day of volunteering at Thunder Mountain with Morgan and Summer.
Even Jesse and Skye joined us for a while.
I think ahead to things I’m looking forward to, like my ski date with Dad.
Our family dinner on Sunday. When the memory of CJ’s smile pops into my head, I can’t help but laugh at myself, which has the effect of obliterating the last of the spell.
Talk about losing control. And liking it.
I tuck my reusable bags into the shopping cart and steer it towards the first aisle.
The thing that always blows me away is the sheer abundance.
Finn River Foods is by no means a mega mart like the kind in big cities, but I’m still in awe of the many, many choices. You want milk? There’s an entire cooler of choices. Getting low on bread? Check out this wall.
Not judging. It’s wonderful. Who wouldn’t want fifty types of crackers, or raspberries in the middle of winter?
It’s hard not to splurge on microbrew beer, artisan ice cream, and every flavor of cookie from the bakery case—the ones they make in house with real butter. Though my new job includes less field work, there’s a lingering food scarcity mentality I have to talk myself out of.
At least I manage to balance out my cart with ingredients for supper and the staples I know we’ll be out of soon. Eggs and bagels and bananas. On a whim, I decide to make cornbread to go with the chili I’m planning for Dad and me tonight, and loop back to grab cornmeal and a box of butter.
When I get home, I’m grateful for my list of tasks.
Otherwise, I might be inclined to turn into a sloth.
After greeting an excited Bruneau, I unload the groceries then drop my backpack in my room.
The chili is a family recipe I know by heart, and putting it together in this kitchen that holds so many memories, with my favorite country tunes and Bruneau keeping me company, fills me with optimism.
There’s no doubt letting loose with a sexy cowboy is playing into my positive mood. I’m one step closer to reclaiming a part of myself I’d lost touch with.
Once the chili is simmering, I set the burner on low and change into barn chore clothes, then bundle up in my winter puffy coat and thick mittens and head outside. The partly cloudy weather I woke up to now looks ready to storm, the sky a solid grey and the air so cold it crackles in my throat.
I follow the narrow path to our small stable, my boots squeaking on last night’s new-fallen snow. Bruneau trots ahead, sniffing the steady breeze.
When I slide the stable door open, the familiar scents of hay and animal bring up more good memories. Of Saturday rides with Sofie. Playing hide and seek with Jesse. Evening chores with Dad.
Tupelo and Nixie shuffle inside their stalls. Tupelo plods over, so I slip off my mittens and offer him my knuckles. His warm breath bathes my skin but he doesn’t pull away, so I rub his forelock and over to his neck, his silky coat warm beneath my fingers.
Nixie nickers from the next stall, and I can’t help my smile. “Did you two have a nice rest day?” I ask, my voice raspy in the quiet space.
After treating Nixie to nose rubs, I head for the cramped feed and tack room to mix up their grain and supplements. The sight of Cocoa’s dusty bridle hanging on its peg brings the sadness I’ve been ignoring right to the surface.
Even though I know it’s pointless, I rub my thumbs over the browband. I wish I could have been here. To be with you when it was time.
But Nathan kept Dad’s message from me, and when I found out, he did what he was so good at: convinced me that traveling home to be with Cocoa would have been pointless, then made me feel weak for crying about it. She’s just a horse, Linnea. Quit overreacting.
By the time I finish up, it’s dusk, the sun a lemony stain behind hazy clouds on the western horizon and the temperature dropping by the minute. When two pairs of headlights sweep across the barn entrance, Bruneau takes off, tail wagging.
I swallow my disappointment that Dad’s brought a guest. It’s not unusual, but I was looking forward to a low-key evening just the two of us. After parking the wheelbarrow, I grab my coat from the feed room. When I step outside, a gust of wind kicks up a pocket of snow, blinding me for an instant.
A truck door thumps shut, then a second one, followed by the murmur of voices from the driveway and an excited woof from Bruneau.
Maybe it’s his FBI friend, Luke. Or an outdoorsy citizen is here to talk shop. Though that last option is more likely during hunting season.
Just as I swivel to slide the barn doors shut, Dad’s guest steps into the glow from our porch light. A ripple of unease fires under my skin. I stare, not quite believing it.
But even from a distance, I’d know that scruffy jawline and head of wild, dark curls.
What in the hell is CJ doing here?
My heart hammers against my ribs while I try to make sense of his presence. He’s here with Dad. They arrived together. That’s not a coincidence.
I square my shoulders and walk toward where CJ’s crouched to pet Bruneau so I can get ahead of this disaster.
When I step into the light, Dad shoots me a warm smile. “Hey, Linn.”
CJ looks up, and for a split second, those stormy eyes brighten. It makes me melt just a little because how nice is it that he’s happy to see me?
But I quickly shoot him a look that says don’t you dare bring up the Sweetwater before I step into Dad’s side hug. “Hey, Pop.”
“CJ, this is my daughter, Linnea,” Dad says when I step back.
“Hello.” He gives me a polite nod, and his smile looks tight, but I can’t worry about his feelings right now.
Damn him for being just as handsome as that night we danced and fooled around.
Those wild curls framing his storm-blue eyes and bearded jaw, and the dark green uniform pants hugging strong thighs and his trim waist. Just one glance and already my heartbeat is skipping faster, heat traveling down, down.
“Okay if CJ joins us?” Dad’s question snaps my attention away from CJ. “We didn’t get through everything at HQ this afternoon, and—”
“It’s fine,” I tell him while the words ricochet inside my skull. HQ, as in the Gibbs field office. As in…
Fuck!
The realization steals my breath. CJ works with Dad.
“Dinner’s mostly ready,” I rush to add.
“Can I help?” CJ’s tone is way too eager for this awkward exchange.
“No,” Dad and I say in unison.
Dad’s grumpy tone takes me by surprise, but I paste on a reassuring smile. “It’ll just take me a minute. And sounds like you guys have work to do.”
Dad thanks me but I’m already heading for the house.
Inside, after trading my boots for my house slippers, I continue into the kitchen while reality sets in. That new job CJ wouldn’t tell me about? The one he felt the need to celebrate with a night at the Sweetwater and a fancy stay at the Shore Lodge?
CJ is Idaho’s newest conservation officer. And his mentor is none other than my dad.
Fuck my life.