Chapter 3
Tyson finished unloading the dishes he’d just brought in from the veranda and retied his apron around his waist to make it tighter.
The kitchen at Colt’s new restaurant at the apple orchard bustled with cooks whipping up French toast stuffed with apples, frying bacon, or poaching eggs. Tyson didn’t love restaurant work, and he normally ran a crew in the southwest part of the orchard.
They cleaned up slash, pruned trees, and checked irrigation systems, and while he’d only been involved in one harvest, he’d managed that part of the orchard to make sure all the fruit came down, got checked, and delivered where it needed to go.
Thankfully, his section of the orchard wasn’t open to the public, who could come pick their own bushels. In fact, Ty had had no idea that people actually did that, but he’d learned last fall that they came and picked apples to make sauce, juice, and dried snacks for their kids.
Colt had opened a farm store a couple of years ago, and he’d added a food-kitchen operation to the orchard, and they made applesauce, apple juice, apple butter, apple cider syrup, and other appley products.
They sold canning supplies and pie spices and caramel apple kits, and his latest addition to the orchards since taking over for his mother was this restaurant and café.
Ty had eaten here several times, and the food was delicious, as Colt had brought in talented chefs and cooks.
“Table eleven needs to be bussed,” Julie said.
Ty nodded at her. “I got it.” He grabbed onto his cart and headed back out onto the veranda.
Table eleven sat out on the edge, one of their couples’ tables that overlooked the orchards. In the evening, Colt lit up the trees with fairy lights, creating a romantic atmosphere. Word had quickly gotten out around town, and most evenings had to be reserved a couple of weeks in advance.
Ty knew most folks here at brunch, and around town.
He deliberately kept his focus on his goal, concentrating on taking the strongest, most even steps he could.
He remembered all the things Winnie had taught him in physical therapy and employed them, so no one would have a reason to have his name in their mouth.
Winnie sneaked into his thoughts again the way she had been for a while now.
He’d woken up with the woman in his mind, and he’d spoken to her only two hours ago on his drive to the orchards, in fact.
That conversation had left him feeling a little chaotic inside, but the texts afterward had soothed him, and hey, he had a date to Judy and Trooper’s wedding now, and Trap would not be taking Winnie.
He arrived at the table, still not quite sure why the prospect of one of his best friends going out with Winnie bothered him, only knowing that it did.
He started stacking plates and putting them in his plastic bin.
When he had to reach toward the middle of the table, he grabbed onto the back of a chair for support.
His balance wasn’t great when leaning forward or backward—something he definitely needed to work on.
As long as he had some support, he was fine, and he had a little pole with a hook on the end that he could use to pull glasses or saltshakers closer to him.
Laughter at the table next to him rang out, but Ty didn’t look up from his chore. Now that he’d heard them, though, his ears seemed in tune with what they were saying, and he heard a woman ask, “Don’t you know him, Winnie?”
He flinched, his head coming up. He looked out into the orchard, using every ounce of willpower he possessed not to look over at table ten. But how many people named Winnie could there be in Three Rivers?
His physical therapist—and his wedding date—was the only one he knew of.
Ty’s heart pounded as he finished wiping the table and setting the condiments, salt and pepper shakers, and sugar substitute packets where they belonged.
He deliberately turned his back on table ten and swung his cart around the other way, scanning that half of the veranda for more tables that needed to be bussed. If he could just go that way, he could—
“Hey, Tyson.”
It wasn’t Winnie’s voice that interrupted his thoughts, but he definitely heard the feminine tone, because she stood on his right side. In fact, she came around his right side and appeared precisely in front of him.
“Taylor, he’s working,” Winnie said from somewhere behind him, her words barely registering in his ears, but Tyson simply took in the woman in front of him.
She had dark hair, similar to Winnie’s, but with plenty of blonde streaks through it, suggesting she saw a stylist often.
Her dark eyes crinkled when she smiled, and something familiar about her tickled in Tyson’s memory.
Winnie arrived and linked her arm through the woman’s standing in front of him. “Taylor, come sit down,” Winnie practically hissed at her. She flashed a smile at Ty that only lasted a breath. He took in the two of them, and they were definitely related.
“You didn’t introduce me to him last night,” Taylor said. “But I know I saw him at the party.”
Tyson wished he had a boss that would come storming across the veranda and demand he get back to work. Instead, he stood there and stared at the two women in front of him.
“Come on, ladies,” a cowboy drawled, and Ty turned his attention to table ten, his heartbeat now kicking against his ribs. He found Burt Hallahan and Cross Gables sitting at table ten.
Of course.
Great. Just great, Ty thought.
They wore their New Year’s Day brunch finest, which for cowboys was a clean pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.
Burt and Cross lived together in a cabin at Lone Star, and they were elite farriers in the exclusive program there.
They apparently did everything together and had dressed as twins that day, with matching long-sleeved black shirts and dark cowboy hats.
Burt also wore a stormy look, and Winnie tugged on Taylor’s arm to get her to go back to the table.
“I just wanted to meet the man you’re going to that wedding with,” Taylor said, a definite pout in her tone.
“Yes, well, he’s working,” Winnie said. “And besides, you met him last night.”
Tyson had not met Taylor last night, at least not with a formal introduction from Winnie with words like, Hey, this is my sister, or maybe, This is my cousin from Alabama.
Taylor wore a pink dress that swished around her knees as she walked the few steps back to the table, with a pair of impossibly high heels and the teeniest tiniest pinpoint heel.
Ty had no idea how they didn’t go down through the slats in the veranda, but she managed to stay upright and make it back to table ten.
Winnie wore a loose pair of wide-leg pants that mimicked a skirt but weren’t a skirt, and Tyson remembered their conversation about how she didn’t own any dresses. Her pants shone like navy water, and she wore a silver shirt underneath a matching jacket.
Ty narrowed his eyes as Cross stood and pulled out her chair for her, as if they were on a date. Was she seriously on a date with that guy a couple of hours after agreeing to go to the wedding with him? Ty felt frozen, his feet stuck to the veranda and both hands gripping his dish cart.
“Hey, man,” Burt said. “We’ve got some stuff you can clear away here.”
“Burt,” Winnie said, clearly chastising him. “We’re not even done eating yet.”
“I’m done with mine,” he said in a loud voice.
Ty fixed a mask on his face as he walked over to the table. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice a monotone. “Let me clear this stuff away for you guys.” He picked up Burt’s empty plate and put it in his bin. “You guys off today at Lone Star?”
“Just until this afternoon,” Cross said, and he was definitely the nicer of the two of them.
Ty worked with them a couple of times a week, but he wasn’t a farrier. He moved horses from one stall to another, or hooked up equines to a walking circle, or brushed them down after their workout.
He loved nothing more than his time alone with a horse, making it feel good, getting it clean, and securing it somewhere safe, warm, and dry.
The sense of accomplishment that came with taking care of an animal appealed to Ty’s protective nature, and he loved training the dogs at Mitch’s academy and taking care of the horses for Henry and Angel.
Sometimes, he got paperwork for the farriers and helped them clean their tools, and he definitely knew his role at Lone Star was subservient to both Cross and Burt, though Henry and Angel made sure every person there understood their role was critical, no matter how small it was.
He picked up a couple more plates and surveyed the table. Taylor hadn’t even eaten a third of her breakfast yet, and Winnie had a few bites of eggs left, a little pile of hash browns, and all of her bacon. He could barely meet her eyes but managed to do it.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly. “Thank you, Ty.”
He nodded and shuffled his feet to turn around and get the heck out of there.
Thankfully, Julie caught his eye and held up three fingers, and he headed toward the other side of the veranda, feeling the weight of the world on his back, as if everyone at table ten was still watching him.
He made it to table three, where a sense of relief moved through him as he reached for the first plate. He tossed a napkin on top and picked up a bowl that had once held hollandaise sauce when someone arrived at the table beside him.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Winnie said, and she picked up two glasses and put them in his plastic bin.
He straightened and stared at her. “What are you doing?”
Winnie pulled her hands back as if just now realizing she’d started to bus the table but didn’t actually work at the restaurant. Her hands twined around themselves, and she finally dropped them to her sides, as if they’d suddenly had bricks tied to them.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just—Burt was really rude to you, and I’m really sorry about that.”
“I can handle Burt Hallahan,” he said. “I work with him. It’s fine.”
He picked up one of the glasses she’d put in his bin and emptied the few swallows of liquid into the other one, then stacked them. He looked at Winnie and pulled in a breath, her beauty making it catch in his throat. He didn’t want to fight with this woman. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“How long are you working here?” she asked.
“Brunch just goes until one,” he said. “It’s usually about an hour cleanup after.”
Colt had fed them the stuffed French toast that morning for breakfast, and he had his momma’s soup to look forward to that afternoon.
“What about you?” he asked. “Enjoying your date with Burt?”
“I’m not on a date,” Winnie said quickly. “Taylor—” She blew out her breath and looked over to table ten. “I’m just trying to keep my sister from getting herself into too much trouble.”
“Ah, so she’s your sister,” Ty said. “You know we didn’t actually meet last night.”
Winnie’s gaze flew back to him. “No, I know.”
“You don’t like your sister?” he asked.
“She’s flighty,” Winnie said, her voice crisp and coming out in bursts. “And I never know what she’s going to say or do and, yeah, that makes me a little nervous.”
He grinned at her. “I bet it does. Where does she live?”
“Oklahoma,” Winnie said. “She’s still in the small town where we grew up.”
“Is that where you moved from?” Ty asked.
Winnie nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. She goes home tomorrow.” She looked back at Ty, her shoulders deflating. “And I can’t wait.”
Ty wanted to draw her into his chest and help her feel safe and comfortable the way he did horses.
“Well, today’s already half over,” he said. “How much trouble can she get into?”
“You’d be shocked,” Winnie said dryly.
Ty was pretty sure he’d met and known women like Taylor on the rodeo circuit, and doubly sure that Winnie would be shocked if she knew all the wild and crazy things that happened in that life.
Ty realized in that moment that he didn’t miss it at all anymore, and that God had led him exactly where he needed to be—back here in Three Rivers.
He blinked at the beautiful brunette in front of him, wondering if God had put her in his life too. He cleared his throat, his mind suddenly buzzing with all kinds of questions and words and fragments of sentences that wouldn’t come together in complete thoughts.
“Anyway,” Winnie said, “I just wanted you to know—” She waved her hand and didn’t finish the sentence.
She turned back to table ten again, and this time, Ty reached out and grabbed her hand as she started to leave.
She gasped, but Ty held on as the electricity flowed from her fingers, through his, and up to his shoulder.
Every cell in his body buzzed and—holy-eight-second-ride, he was attracted to this woman.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe you’ll just want a relaxing weekend after your sister’s been here.” He ducked his head and tilted it away from table ten, lowering the brim so he wouldn’t be able to look that way and see anyone watching him.
Winnie’s eyes stayed on his face, though he wasn’t directly meeting her gaze.
“I work with Mitch on Saturday mornings. We train the hearing dogs, and afterward, I always treat myself to lunch. Maybe I could stop by and pick you up and we could go together.”
He had no idea what he’d do if she said no to a casual Saturday lunch date a week before the wedding they were already set to attend together. A moment went by and then another, and Ty raised his eyes to hers. He found Winnie smiling, and her fingers in his tightened.
“Is this like a dry run for the wedding?” she asked. “To see if we can get along?”
He grinned at her. “If you want to call it that, that’s fine with me.”
“Well, if that’s not what it is, what is it?”
“I’d call it a date, ma’am.”
Winnie swallowed too, an edge of fear creeping into her expression now. “Ty, there’s something I should tell—”
“We’re ready, Winnie,” Taylor said as she arrived.
Winnie dropped Ty’s hand instantly and put another foot of space between them. She held his gaze, and he found pleading in it this time, and he understood her to be begging him to please understand and that she would explain later.
Ty nodded and went back to bussing table three as Taylor and the two cowboys collected Winnie and they all left.
“As long as there’s a later,” he muttered to himself, catching sight of Winnie’s shiny, earthy hair as she ducked out the door, wondering how long he’d have to wait for her to call or text him and let him know if she would—or wouldn’t—go out with him on Saturday.