4. Summer
Summer
Eat my dust, cowboy.
I turn over the engine in my truck and peel out of the parking lot, gravel crunching under my tires. Reba McEntire is playing on the speakers, and I turn it loud enough for the entire town to sing along. I need something to focus on other than that stubborn man who makes everything a competition.
As I belt out a tune with Reba, my mind still replays those glacier eyes and the clench of his jaw.
Jaxon’s always been a smoke show, even when he doesn’t crack a smile—with those broad shoulders and the way his brown hair curls around the nape of his neck, just overgrown enough to be sexy but not long enough to warrant a haircut.
I’ll bet he still looks good on a horse.
I blink that thought away hard and fast. I have more important things to dwell on than Jaxon on a horse, or how my heart inconveniently stuttered when I ran into him today. Like the fact he’s already decided I stole land from his parents that should rightfully belong to him.
Truth is, Miriam offered it to me. I told her about my dream of starting a flower business, and she looked at the field next to the house and said, “Why don’t you take it? I’d love to see flowers outside my window.”
Together we came up with the name Wildflower Farms, after my mom’s nickname for me. Then she threw in the old red barn as a workspace before I could argue.
Unfortunately, Jaxon wasn’t around for that discussion. He just came home, found me on his land, and drew his own conclusions. In my defense, I’d had four people steal from the field this month, so I was ready to wage war on any thief before I realized who he was.
His reaction was what I’d have guessed. But I didn’t expect to care as much as I do. Because in his eyes, I’m just a squatter without a claim to anything of my own.
That’s exactly why my flower business has to succeed. Not to prove him wrong—although that would be a satisfying bonus—but because Wildflower Farms is the first thing that’s ever been entirely mine.
Golden Springs, though, is not a town that takes well to new ideas, and my little business hasn’t flourished the way I’d hoped.
Most people won’t pay fifty bucks for a bouquet when they can grow their own out back.
But drive ten minutes out of town, and you’ll find miles of white and black fences rolling over bluegrass hills, million-dollar stallions grazing in fields, and horse farms with names that go back several generations.
That’s where my money is. A farmer at the yearling sale might own a stallion worth more than most people’s retirement portfolios, but you’d never know it from his dust-covered boots and twenty-year-old truck that’s beat-up.
The air changes once you leave Golden Springs and hit farm country. Most folks around here would say it smells like money.
I turn onto the long drive and take in the rolling fields, thinking how lucky the Chance brothers are, inheriting all of this. During today’s meeting, though, Jaxon looked irate that he’d have to sacrifice anything for that inheritance.
Of course he just wants to sell the farm so he can get his money and leave. He doesn’t understand what it cost his parents to keep this place running. The long seasons, the poor investments, the years when the horses didn’t pan out, and the rare occasions when they did.
Jaxon got his dreams handed to him on a silver platter while resenting the very thing that gave him those dreams—the ranch that his parents devoted their lives to. Everything came easily to him, even becoming a pro hockey player.
I park my truck next to the mare barn before the rest of the day slips away.
I’ve already done my morning rounds in the broodmare barn, but I didn’t have time to check on Rebel.
She’s at the fence before I even reach it, pressing her nose into my palm as if she’s been waiting on me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I whisper as I stroke her velvet nose.
For a horse that spent her first year here trying to put distance between herself and everyone on the property, she’s made progress.
The Chances bought the unbroken mare at auction two years ago, with a reputation for being more trouble than she was worth.
Unfortunately, John never got the chance to train her before he died from a heart attack, and she’s been unfinished business ever since.
She still won’t tolerate a saddle or a rider, but that’s because I have to earn her trust first. Rebel and I understand each other that way.
I rub my hand along her neck, thinking of the first day I showed up unannounced at the barn with no experience and a lot of nerve, and Miriam hired me on the spot. I thought it was because the barns were bursting with horses and she was desperate for extra hands.
But Miriam must have seen something in me—a sixteen-year-old girl raised by a single mother, who’d learned early that the only thing standing between her and a better life was a job opportunity.
Miriam marched me to the barn where Jaxon was mucking out stalls. “Jaxon, we have a new farmhand,” Miriam said. “This is Summer.”
His sleeves were rolled up over tan forearms, a bandana tied around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes. When he looked over, his gaze was the most striking metallic gray I’d ever seen.
He sized me up in about three seconds, then turned to his mom. “You hired a girl?” he said. “Does she know anything about horses?”
“Not yet,” Miriam said. “But she’ll learn. You’re going to teach her.”
He rolled his eyes, like I wasn’t right there, close enough to grab a pitchfork and use it on him.
Miriam arched a brow. “What’s wrong with hiring a girl?”
“Nothing,” he said, backing down from her pointed stare. “I just don’t want to help her with grunt work.”
“Don’t worry,” I clapped back. “I won’t ask you for help.”
He shot me a look.
“Be nice to her, Jaxon.” Miriam looked between us like she was trying to figure out if this would work. “Start with showing her how to clean a stall properly.”
“Can’t you do it?” Jaxon asked. “Or ask my brothers?”
“Wyatt’s at football practice. The twins are in the back pasture with Dad, and I have to check on the new foal,” Miriam said, leaving us to work it out. “Summer can help you finish your chores before you head to hockey practice.”
He sighed and turned back to his stall, ignoring me.
Jaxon and I went to the same high school, but he’d never spoken to me. He was a year older, running with the popular jocks while I tried to fit in with the farm kids. Even then, I was kind of a loner, teaching myself to harvest seeds from pods so I could grow my own flowers.
It didn’t help that it was just Mom and me by then.
Dad left for Nashville to become a music producer when I was five.
I used to sit on the porch steps in my fanciest dress, an old hand-me-down from a neighbor, waiting for a visit that kept getting pushed back.
First a week, then a month, then two, until I stopped hearing from my dad at all.
No wonder I liked horses so much. They didn’t leave. Horses never went looking for something better. And I never stopped being enough for them.
Mom worked most evenings at Minnie’s Diner to keep the lights on. We survived mostly on handouts and donations, none of which made me a cool girl in school. She doesn’t remember any of it now.
Judging by Jaxon’s reaction today, he didn’t think a girl like me belonged on his farm.
I stood there awkwardly, wondering what I was supposed to do since I didn’t know the first thing about horses. If Jaxon refused to teach me and I couldn’t figure it out on my own, Miriam wouldn’t have any reason to keep me around.
“I can work as hard as you,” I said. “Tell me what to do.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “You probably can’t even lift a bale of hay.”
“I can. Need me to lift one for you?”
Another eye roll. Guess he didn’t catch my attempt at a joke.
“You’ll probably go home crying the first time you fall off a horse,” he muttered.
“No I won’t.”
He turned to me. “If there’s one thing we don’t allow around here, it’s somebody who needs a lot of help.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m not delicate.”
“Then prove it,” he challenged. He didn’t want to babysit some kid his mom felt sorry for.
From then on, everything was a test I had to pass. He assigned me the worst barn chores, then asked with a grin, “Gonna quit yet?”
“Not yet.” I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much my calloused hands hurt or how badly the blisters on my heel stung. It only seemed to spur him on to make this a game between us, so I started doing my chores faster than he did. Better, too.
“Those stalls look fantastic,” John Chance said to me, stopping to notice the stall I’d just cleaned. Then he looked at his son’s work in the next stall over. “Jaxon, why don’t you take a tip from her?”
Jaxon’s jaw clenched as he grabbed his bedding fork and walked to the next stall.
I went home that night stinking of horses and covered in dust, but I was happy. I knew that money could buy me freedom. It would help with groceries, allow me to save up for a pair of riding boots, and maybe even a horse someday.
After a month passed, Jaxon must have realized I wasn’t leaving. That’s when I’d catch him sneaking glances at me, mostly when he thought I was too busy to notice. I think he couldn’t figure out why a girl like me enjoyed working on a horse farm.
After that, Miriam taught me to ride by putting me on a mare named Sally. She was like my spirit animal, indifferent to what anyone else wanted and full of spunk.
One afternoon, Sally spooked over a plastic bag that went rolling through the pasture.
She bolted into a full run while I hung on for dear life, her hooves pounding the ground like a drum, while my heart galloped right along with them.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t scared. This was exhilarating.
The wind on my face, the freedom of outrunning everything else in my life.
Nothing else compared to that kind of wild recklessness.
I didn’t have to think; I only needed to lean into her and let her go.
When Jaxon saw me taking off on Sally, he leapt onto a horse and tore off after me. “Summer!” he yelled, the sound of his gelding thundering behind me.
Ignoring him, I clung to Sally’s mane. I didn’t need a hero. I wasn’t a damsel in distress.
“Summer, pull back on the reins!” he shouted.
“No!” The wind stole my breath. If Jaxon thought I’d stop just because he told me to, he was mistaken.
“Don’t be stupid,” he yelled. “What if you fell off?”
“Then you’d probably be thrilled.”
“What?” His voice had a panicked edge. “Are you crazy?”
I smiled so wide, I could feel the wind in my teeth. “Possibly, yes.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“At least I’ll die with a smile on my face,” I said with a laugh.
When Sally finally ran herself to exhaustion, she slowed to a stop, and I hopped off her back and gave Jaxon a smug smile.
He dismounted in one swift move and aimed a scowl at me. “What is wrong with you? You could’ve gotten hurt!”
“Well, I didn’t!” I shouted back. “And why do you care?”
“I don’t!” he snarled, although the look in his eyes said otherwise.
“This is my family’s ranch,” he said, pointing at the ground. “And you’re employed by Lucky Chance. We can’t afford you doing reckless things with our horses and putting yourself in danger.”
“Isn’t hockey the same? When you play, you put yourself in danger too.”
“That’s different from an animal that’s out of control. Those risks are part of the game.” He no longer looked annoyed with me.
“Same for riding Sally.” I turned away and plucked a wild daisy from the long grass.
“Mom would kill me if you got hurt. That’s why I went after you.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason?”
His lips pressed into a firm line. “It’s my job to look out for you.”
“I thought you didn’t like me.”
“Never said I did.”
“Then why does it matter?” I snapped back. “I think you’d be glad to see me get hurt so we wouldn’t have to work together anymore.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.” In his face, I glimpsed something different now.
I bit back my surprise. “Wait…” I moved toward him. “Do you enjoy working with me?”
“You’re…” He looked like the word was being pulled out of him. “Tolerable.”
“Tolerable,” I repeated, fighting a smile. “Is that an actual compliment?”
His mouth quirked. “You have a few redeeming qualities.”
I huffed out a laugh.
“I like that you speak your mind, for one,” he admitted. “You’re not afraid to work hard. And you sure don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Finally, something we can agree on.” I plucked a few petals off the daisy.
He hates me. He hates me not.
He watched the petals fall to the ground.
“I was wrong about you. You’re not delicate.
Dad thinks you’re the best worker on this farm.
And Mom’s pleased as punch to have a girl here.
” He dragged a hand through his wind-blown hair.
“Looks like you’re not leaving anytime soon, so if you’re going to work here, you need a nickname. ” He studied me. “Do you have one?”
I spun the daisy in my hand. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
I took a deep breath. “Mom said when I was little, I was a wild child, always wandering off when she wasn’t looking. So she called me Wildflower.”
“It fits.” Jaxon nodded, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Wildflower.”
I picked a few more daisies. “Can’t believe you got to grow up here.”
“Really?” He cocked his head. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Is that why you wear a scowl every time you come into the barn?” I asked.
He smirked. “No, that’s because of you, Wildflower.”
“Way to charm the new girl.”
He shrugged, but I didn’t miss the way his lips twisted into a grin. “Didn’t say I was trying.”
In one smooth move, he swung up into the saddle. I never realized watching someone ride could be so spellbinding.
He looked at me, the muscles in his arm flexing as he held the reins. “Race you back, Wildflower?”
I smiled as I climbed back on the horse, already getting a head start. “You’re on, cowboy.”
He called me Wildflower until the day he left, and then he never called me that name again. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I only knew that I wanted to stay at Lucky Chance forever, and I hoped Jaxon would too.
Rebel nudges my shoulder, pulling me back into the present. I’m not in high school anymore. Jaxon still knows how to push my buttons. He’s never been able to resist a challenge, and neither have I.