Chapter 12 Twinkle, Twinkle
twinkle, twinkle
ROXANNE
I’m not exactly sure where I’m going, but the narrow path that leads away from the Nook seems like a quiet place for me and Duke to talk.
We say nothing as we start our walk, taking deep breaths as we go.
The music and laughter from the dinner party fade with each step, traded for the hush of spruce trees and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.
The air is thinner here, cooler, tinged with the smoky scent of distant fire pits and the sweetness of wild sage.
It’s almost pleasant.
The crickets have joined us as Duke walks beside me, hands tucked in his pockets, the sleeves of his dinner jacket hugging arms that could split firewood without an ax. He’s freshly showered, clean-shaven, and so unfairly handsome.
The trail widens into a stone overlook that curves along the side of the lodge, part natural ledge, part handcrafted terrace built from thick slate rock and aged cedar beams. The mountains rise in dusky silhouettes, soft-edged in the fading twilight, and tucked between them lies the lake, glass-still, catching the last blush of sunset on its mirrored surface.
We stop, lean against the wall, and take in the view. I’m not quite ready to say that I enjoy it, but with night covering the harshness of the day, I silently admit that it’s not entirely horrible.
“Dinner was lovely,” I manage to say.
“That was Thatcher and his crew at their best.”
Being near Duke sends a zip of jittery warmth through me. I stare straight ahead and yet, I know I need to say something to break the undercurrent churning between us. I need to say something casual, professional … emotionally distant.
“You clean up well,” I say.
Nope. That’s not it, Roxanne.
“Why, thank you.” He glances sideways, a slow grin forming on his perfect mouth. “And you look stunning, Trouble.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What happened to Sunshine?”
Duke shakes his head. “I’ve decided you’re nothing but trouble.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep.”
“When exactly did you decide this?”
He rubs his clean-shaven chin. “You know it would have to be … officially … after you kissed me.”
“Out of a fit of rage,” I insist.
“You threw yourself at me.”
“To make sure you didn’t get the last word.”
“It was … stirring.”
“An unfortunate side effect.”
Oh no, his smile.
Look away, Roxanne, before it’s too late.
The way the moonlight touches his jaw should be illegal. I have to put a stop to this. “Mr. Faraday—”
“I wish you would call me Duke.”
My gaze drops. I still can’t bring myself to cross that barrier, and yet I grabbed him and kissed him like we were the last two people alive. This man has got me turned upside down in the worst way. “I did kiss you. That was … unprofessional. I apologize.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, as if I’ve said something disappointing and amusing all at once.
Fine, so the kiss was stirring, which is why I needed to apologize for it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. But I also need to clear the air on the other thing bothering me.
“You were right about me, by the way,” I blurt out.
I brace myself for some sassy retort or cocky remark as he basks in the glow of me admitting to being wrong.
“Oh?” is all he says, looking at me with a genuine and curious expression.
“I came here with one foot already on the plane home. I didn’t want to do this, and so I didn’t prepare, but I’m already seeing all that’s at stake with what you’ve got here. I know now that I need to get my head straight.”
Duke is quiet for a beat and then he turns to me. “I’m not sure what happened to you here that made you never want to return, but I know something about not feeling like you can come home. I’m sorry if this is difficult for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll adjust. I have to. I want to do the best possible job here this summer,” I say. “I want to fully capture the essence of Firebird Ranch, and for me to do that, I need to keep things professional. Because honestly, you all are so professional.”
“We do our best,” Duke says, “and still manage to have fun and let loose when we can.”
“It’s more than that,” I continue. “It’s the mission statement, the strict guidelines for conduct—and, well, you’re all so …” I pause, searching for the right words. “I guess I just didn’t expect it.”
Duke’s brow arches, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t expect what?”
“That a group of men and women running a ranch in the mountains wouldn’t …”
He grins. “Sound like a bunch of hicks?”
“Not hicks, just…”
“Just not what you thought.”
“I suppose.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t more open-minded,” he says, tone warm but teasing. “You being such a worldly woman.”
“I didn’t mean to offend. I was making judgments based on what I experienced living in Colorado before.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Duke says. “We’ve all been judged for how we talk or how we don’t. The military drills a certain precision and polish into you. When you learn that words can defuse a situation or blow it sky-high, you pick them carefully.”
The insight catches me off guard. “Makes perfect sense. I know you’ve landed here, but you’ve been all over the world too.”
“That’s right. Most of us here have lived and trained around diverse teams, often including officers, diplomats, and allied forces. Those experiences don’t fade just because we’re in a quieter setting now.”
“Too true.” I glance at him with a smile.
“Don’t worry, we slip into our Western twangs here and there.”
“That’s a relief.” I chuckle and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “But, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, and again, I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that, and you needn’t apologize since I’m the one who truly needs to say I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to rile you up since you arrived.”
“You’re good at it. Anyway, I assure you that … that kiss … it won’t happen again.” I barely get those words out because while my head agrees with what I’m saying, my body feels a little betrayed by the boundary I’m setting.
“You’re so sure it won’t happen again?” Duke says with a smirk.
“I’m positive. I don’t need anything clouding my judgment.” I continue to stare out into the pines while Duke faces the opposite direction and leans against the stone wall of the overlook.
“Besides,” I continue. “I’m only here for the summer. It’s best not to get involved with anyone when I have no intention of staying.”
Duke crosses his arms over his chest. “What if you fall in love with a handsome wrangler while you’re here?”
“Impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible when it comes to love, Trouble.”
I laugh. “Falling in love over the course of the summer is impossible. It doesn’t happen like that.”
“Now I’m intrigued. How does it happen?”
I rub my arms. “You know what? We’d better head back.”
“Too cold?” Duke asks.
“I’m fine,” I lie through a barely concealed shiver.
He doesn’t say anything, but a second later, I feel the shift in air as he slips out of his jacket. Before I can protest, he drapes it over my shoulders. His fingers barely brush my shoulder as he lets go, and it’s ridiculous how that quick touch manages to steal my breath.
“Thank you,” I say. I turn to walk back to the lodge feeling that if I don’t get back to my room, my newfound strength is going to completely dissolve.
“So,” he says.
“So what?”
“How do you think it happens … falling in love.”
Suddenly the constant song of the crickets seems to die down as if they’re listening. “It takes time. You start with three dates before you can assess if there should be physical contact.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really? And then what happens?”
“Depending on the amount of chemistry and how good the physical contact is, you continue to date, meet parents, try shopping at IKEA and then if you survive all of that, you can determine if it’s right to cohabitate.”
Duke laughs. “Wow. You really have it down to a science. How far did the last man get?”
“Date two.”
“Sheesh. What did he do wrong?”
“He, uh, he wouldn’t stop flirting with our waitress during dinner. When I came back from the bathroom, he was asking her for her phone number.”
“Jackass. If I was lucky enough to have dinner with you, I wouldn’t notice anyone else in the room.”
His words send something wild and unwelcome fluttering in my chest, but I breathe in, pretending his comment doesn’t faze me. “What about you, Mr. Faraday? How do you think two people fall in love?”
He shrugs. “Depends on the people. Some people start as best friends and then grow to love each other. For others, it’s love at first sight.”
“You believe in love at first sight?”
“Absolutely.”
“Has that ever happened to you?”
His eyes linger on me a little longer than they should. “Definitely. You should try letting your heart fall in love that way.”
“I did try it that way and—” my voice trails off when that horrible night flashes through my mind. I don’t realize I stopped walking until Duke steps in my path and peers into my face, his hands barely hovering over my shoulders.
“Roxanne? You okay?”
I pull his jacket tighter around my shoulders. “Yes, I … anyway, what you think of love at first sight is lust at first sight. It’s your midbrain liking that person’s facial symmetry. You can’t really fall in love until you know if they return shopping carts to the corral.”
His eyes widen. “I’m not sure you really know what love is, Trouble.”
“I know enough to know that it doesn’t happen overnight.”
“Yes, it does.” His voice rolls out like a low rumble of thunder. “Love is wild and startling and takes a hold of you when you least expect it.”
“Sounds like a bout of indigestion.”
My mouth tugs into a smile when he throws his head back and laughs.
“Yep, I guess that’s another way to describe it,” he says. We start walking again, closer now to the lights and low hum of conversation of the others still enjoying the Nook. “You deserved better than whatever man did this number on you.”
I inhale slowly. “He taught me a valuable lesson about prioritizing your head over your heart. I’m better off because of it.”
Even as that last line leaves my lips, I’m not sure I believe it.
“I look forward to working with you,” I continue. “But let’s be clear, this …the tension, the staring, the bickering … It’s… it’s a distraction. For both of us.”
“I agree,” he says.
“It’s best if we do keep things professional.”
“And you think that’ll work?” he asks.
“I need it to,” I say. “My job is on the line. We need to work together and …” My words evaporate into the night as his eyes pin me in place.
Damn this man and his stare. I talk a good game, but my defenses are no match for his handsomeness and his forearms. I shake my head.
“… and I need to stay focused on what I came here to do.”
Something shifts in his expression. It’s not quite a smile, not quite a frown, it’s acknowledgment. He nods once. “Professional it is.”
Allie spots us emerging from the forest. She waves and then quickly turns her heart eyes back to Topper. Leo is deep in conversation with Georgia. Rusty sits at the table with another older gentleman with tattoos on his forearms.
“Goodnight, Mr. Faraday.” I peel the jacket off and hand it to him.
“Goodnight, Tr—Ms. Denning.”
I hate how painfully attractive he is when he smirks, and I hate that I didn’t want to give his jacket back.
I make the rounds through the dying party and say goodnight as quickly as I can. My teeth chatter as I walk back to the lodge in silence.
By the time I get back to my room, I’m worn thin. My phone buzzes on the nightstand as I slip into bed. My mother is on FaceTime and I couldn’t be happier. We speak almost daily, and I’ve missed a few of her calls due to bad reception and her traveling back to New York from Europe.
“Mom! Hello!” I say, propping my head up on a pile of pillows.
“Sweetie! How are you?” She’s back in her Manhattan penthouse. My stepfather waves from behind her.
“I’m doing well. Hi, Dad!” I say to the man who is more of a father to me than my biological one. He blows a kiss my way, leaves one on my mom’s cheek, and then slips out of view.
“I was beginning to think the woods had already consumed you, my dear.”
“Not yet, although so far, I’ve fallen in a horse trough, cuddled a turkey, and had a rogue bulldog lick my toes.”
“Cuddled a turkey? How feral,” she teases. “So it seems the trip thus far is not as terrible as you had imagined it was going to be?”
I open my mouth, but hesitate, and she pounces like the seasoned negotiator she is. “Ah. That pause. That’s the pause of someone who has already met someone.”
“I’ve met lots of people so far.”
“I see and what’s his name?”
“Whose name?”
“The name of the man who has put that pink in your cheeks.”
“It was a chilly walk back to the lodge from dinner.”
“What’s his name?”
I groan into the phone. “You are exhausting.”
“Forgive me, but the last time you were in Colorado, it didn’t exactly end well. I’m allowed to be curious.”
“There’s no he, but there is a man here named Duke Faraday.”
Her brow arches. “Oh dear. That’s either the name of a country music singer or a man with devastating bone structure and a hero complex.”
“It’s the latter unfortunately,” I mumble.
“I see,” she says, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “And who is this Duke Faraday?”
“The ranch owner. Don’t worry, he’s only intriguing to me in that I need to interview him for the piece I’m writing about the ranch. We’re keeping it professional.”
She gives me a long, knowing look that only a mother—or perhaps a seasoned diplomat—can deliver. “Promise me you won’t run full steam into this one before you know what it is or who you are in it.”
“I won’t,” I say softly. “Like I said. This is strictly business.”