Chapter 20
Cody
Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.
~ Helen Keller
Carli turns into the pullout and I jump out to meet her when she parks her truck next to mine.
“Hey.” I pull her into a hug and she melts into my arms.
She tilts her head up and I kiss her. Relief rolls through me, followed by a hunger for more. She clings to my shirt. I cup the back of her neck, holding her to me. She pulls back for an instant—just long enough to breathe out my name—and then we lean toward one another again, unwilling to let go.
Time is our enemy, but today we have a reprieve, so I slow us down, brushing one last soft kiss over her lips.
She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Then she reaches up, running her hand down my jaw. “Good morning.”
I chuckle. “Good morning.” Releasing her, I ask, “Ready?”
“I am. I forgot to ask how I should dress, but I figured we were seeing about a horse, so I hope this is okay.”
She pulls back and holds her arms out to her sides.
She’s wearing her well-worn boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a puffer vest.
“You look perfect,” I tell her.
She blushes lightly. I step around her and open the passenger door to my truck.
“So, where’s this horse?” she asks once we’re both buckled in and I’m driving down the road leading out of town.
“Leipers Fork.”
“Oooh. We’re going through Nashville!”
“Yes. It’s a bit of a trek. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Let’s see,” she says, tapping her pointer finger to her chin. “I could be home helping Jace on the farm, or I could be out on a day with you. Hard call, but I pick Leipers Fork.”
“I have plans,” I tell her. “Outside of seeing the horse.”
“Oh?”
“Should I surprise you? Or do you want to know?”
“Surprise me. Always surprise me.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“What about you?” she asks. “Are you a surprise person or a plan-and-control?”
“Maybe surprise—as long as it’s good.”
“That sounds a little like needing to be in control,” she teases.
“You’re probably right.”
We drive down the old highway until it merges with I-40 and then we head through Nashville. The trees along the side of the road are mostly bare, but the scenery still feels like home.
“So, what’s the story with this horse?” she asks.
“Dad’s always looking at equine pages. He retired Scout last month and wants a good solid quarterhorse gelding to replace him.
” I glance over at her and then back to the road.
“I’m actually honored to be the one Dad asked.
He doesn’t buy problems. And he trusts me to be the one to discern whether this one’s a fit. ”
“Of course he does, Cody.”
Her words land, grounding something in me. I’m the fourth—the one with a job off the ranch, the last one Dad should’ve picked. But Carli’s knee-jerk certainty eases my doubt and helps me see myself through her eyes.
“What’s his name?” she asks.
“Storm.”
“Oh, I like that. Do you know his coloring?”
“He’s a buckskin.”
“My favorite.”
“Like Lark,” I smile over at her.
“Yeah. I love the way Lark’s dark mane contrasts to her blonde body. She’s like the supermodel of horses.”
“The two of you together are quite a sight.”
Her smile is soft and shy. “I love watching you ride too.”
“Supermodel?” I ask, making a face that I think is a smolder.
She laughs and then reaches across the cab and runs her fingertips down my jawline.
“Careful there,” I warn her. “I might have to pull the truck over. Then we’d never see the gelding.”
“I think on day-long dates, detours are acceptable,” she says with a smile that’s definitely meant to tempt me.
“Not before we see Storm. Definitely after.”
We ride along quietly for a while, taking in the Tennessee landscape and the easy way we fit together.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Carli’s always seamlessly fit into my family’s life, rolling with our sense of humor, pitching in as if she lived on the ranch.
I couldn’t have known if that ease would translate when it’s just the two of us. Now I do.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“How easy it is to be with you.”
“It seems like it’s easy for you to be with just about anyone.”
“I get along with most people, sure. But not everyone makes me feel at ease.”
“And I do?”
“Yeah,” I smile over at her. “You do.”
“You never made me feel at ease,” she says.
I slap my hand to my chest. “Seriously?”
“Sure. I was comfortable hanging out around your family. But I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. As soon as you entered a room … Well, I wasn’t at ease. I just hoped I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself.”
“What about now?”
“Now, you make me feel … safe. And special. Like you really want to spend time with me.”
“Good. Because I do.”
She’s quiet for a beat and then she surprises me. "I almost didn't come today."
My grip on the steering wheel tightens for a beat. "Really?"
"Yeah. Jace can always use my help." She pauses. "And someone could notice I'm gone for the day."
I place my hand on her knee. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
“Me too.”
We ride along with my hand on her knee, a deeper comfort between us.
She reaches for the radio and asks, “Is this okay?”
“Totally okay,” I tell her, singing along softly.
“Are you down for a pit stop?” I ask her as we approach my first surprise of the day.
“Cracker Barrel?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows. “I could shop all day in their gift shop.”
“No, but I’ll keep that in mind for another trip.”
“Another trip? Are you planning on regular kidnappings?”
“Definitely.” I wink.
“So, where’s the pit stop?”
I’ve turned south onto the sixty-five and she hasn’t said a thing since we’re still headed to Leipers Fork.
When I turn onto the ninety-six, Carli squeals, “Franklin!”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I thought we’d get you a coffee. Do you have a favorite spot?”
“Take me to your surprise!” She waves her hand forward toward the dashboard.
I drive into town and find street parking in front of the historic brick two-story with a wraparound porch and stone steps that has been converted into the Frothy Monkey coffee shop.
We grab coffees. Carli gets something called the Havannah.
“Want a sip?” she asks when we’re back in the truck. I set my black coffee in the cup holder and take a drink of hers.
My face contorts. “That tastes like ice cream.”
“And why does your face look like you swallowed hog manure?” She’s laughing.
“I wasn’t prepared. Give a man some warning when he’s about to drink straight evaporated milk and cinnamon.”
She’s still laughing. Then she takes a sip and says, “Mmm. This is heaven.”
We drive out of Franklin, agreeing we’ll come back another day just to linger in shops, catch a small local band playing at a venue, and browse the bookshops.
The drive to Leipers Fork takes us down a quiet, two-lane country highway stretching gently forward through open farmland.
Wooden plank fencing lines the road, broken occasionally by stone gateposts marking the entrance to another property.
Open fields roll out on both sides, pale early spring green grass spreading toward the distant tree lines.
We’ve barely finished our coffees by the time I pull up to the ranch address Dad gave me.
I pull onto the asphalt driveway. Rolling acreage spreads gently beyond us as far as the eye can see. The land has a natural rise and fall of well-maintained pastures, giving the property depth and a sense of privacy without feeling isolated.
A large red barn anchors the landscape, with a pale metal roof that catches the sun. Additional outbuildings and a farmhouse sit farther back, partially screened by trees. An older man, probably around Dad’s age, steps onto the porch and waves. He walks over to greet us.
“Cody?”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “And this is my friend, Carli. She’s keeping me company today.”
“Well, good to meet you both. I’m Ray. Ray Mercer. Come on back and I’ll introduce you to Storm.”
He extends his hand and we shake. Then he eyes Carli with a warm smile. I want to loop my arm around her shoulders, but you never know when this man could talk with Dad, so I keep a slight distance.
We follow Ray to the barn set back from the road. A riding ring flanks the back.
“This here’s Storm,” he says when we arrive at the stall.
He tugs the door open and the three of us step into Storm’s space.
Storm stands soft and tall, not backing down, but not aggressive. He regards me and then Carli. She holds back, obviously deferring to me. Storm lifts his head and takes a steady step in my direction. His eyes are steady, calm, tracking me.
I glance at Carli. We hold a wordless conversation. She’s tracking all the same details I am. I imagine us, picking our own horses, running a ranch together someday. The thought should shock me, but it’s too right to feel unsettling.
“Want to take him out?”
“Please,” I say. “Anything I should know?”
“Nah. He’s seven. Got his wild hairs out by now.” Ray steps over to the tack wall and grabs a blanket and saddle. “Go ahead and saddle him up.”
I do. Carli stands back, watching, but then she walks around to Storm’s front, as if she can’t help herself but engage with him.
“You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” she coos in a near whisper. Storm gently lifts his nose into her palm and she runs her hand down it. “Oh, yes you are. I bet you love a good ride.”
Ray smiles at me. He knows. Carli’s not here as my friend.
I lead Storm out of the barn and into the ring. Then I mount and ride him, testing transitions and how he responds to the reins.
“Go ahead, when you’re comfortable,” Ray says. “You can take him out on the property.”
I nod and Ray opens the pen door. Storm doesn’t startle or take off, but there’s an awareness and eagerness to move.
Just right. I give a nudge and some slack and we move from a trot to a lope, then I ride back into the pastures and let him gallop.
We go for a little way and then I turn back, an idea suddenly taking hold.
When I approach the pen, Carli and Ray are chatting.
He’s leaning on the metal railing and she’s standing with her hands in her pockets with a soft smile on her face.
I pull to a stop right next to them.
“Mind if Carli has a go?” I ask Ray.
“Me?” she asks at the same time as Ray says, “Not a problem.”
He looks down at Carli’s boots as if they’re evidence enough that she knows her way around a ranch. I guess they are.
She takes the lead, says something soft and assuring to Storm and then she climbs up the pen fencing, disregarding the mounting block altogether.
Ray shoots me a look that says he’d be smitten too if he were me.
She gives a click and a nudge and Storm responds, taking off away through the grass behind us.
I watch them for as long as I’m able to keep a visual on them.
Ray says, “I had a friend like that once.”
I turn my head toward him. “Did you?”
“Yessir. Married her as quick as I could.”
I chuckle. “Well, we’re still seeing how things go for now.”
“I’m not one to discuss who came to see my horses. You’re here on behalf of your dad. Who came with you isn’t mine to tell.”
I don’t know how Ray picked up on the nature of our situation. Maybe his words simply come from having lived in a small town. We’re all the same as far as that goes. Sneeze and someone down the road blesses you.
“Thank you,” I say as Carli appears over the ridge—sitting deep in the saddle, blonde hair flying behind her.
Whatever I thought I was risking by taking this day, I’d risk it again for this moment alone.