CHAPTER 3
DELANEY
Something sits up and takes notice the moment we drive by the sign welcoming us to Wintervale. I’ve visited a number of new places over the years, but this feels different. I can’t put my finger on it, but my gut is begging me to pay attention.
“Check it out, Auggie,” my voice is bright, “we’ve arrived in Wintervale.”
I can practically feel my brother rolling his eyes. “I saw the sign, Dela,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of a tease there too.
I’ve been seeing these little glimpses of the teenager he’s about to be. I’m not thrilled about it, but at the same time I know it’s part of him growing up. My heart aches for a moment with the thought of our parents missing out on seeing him become the young man he’s supposed to be.
What if I fuck him up? What if I’ve already done damage with all the moving that we’ve done? What the hell am I supposed to do? I wasn’t supposed to become a parent to my little brother at the age of 20. There are times when I’m not sure how we survived the last eight years.
But here we are.
There’s not much traffic on the road which allows me to slow down and take in the town as we drive through. Petit Squared, a little bakery we drive by, looks adorable. I can only hope their treats are delicious. If they are, then I’ll be stopping in frequently.
I’m not a baker no matter how hard I’ve tried. I realize it’s all about following a recipe, but I always manage to screw it up somehow. August has learned to stay far away from any kitchen I’m baking in when I get a wild hair up my ass to try again.
It’s a shame because our mom was an amazing baker. I would spend hours in the kitchen with her, especially during the holiday season, and make all sorts of cookies. The first few years after she passed, I tried to keep the tradition alive. It was a bust, and it felt like I was losing her all over again.
Honestly, I’m kind of a disaster in the kitchen all the way around. I try, but there are only a few edible things I make. Barely edible.
It’s a good thing we’ve lived in a lot of places, and I always include room and board in my contract. We’ve been able to eat a lot of amazing food, some refined and some rustic, throughout the years. Even better, I didn’t have to cook any of it.
If I hadn’t thought that through, August would have grown up on fast food and frozen meals. Popping something in a microwave isn’t something even I can screw up. But the options are not as appetizing as a home cooked meal.
Trudy’s Diner, which is close to the bakery, looks like it’s busy even in the middle of the day on a weekday. That’s gotta be a good sign. Right across the street is Brewbirds Coffeehouse. If they can make a good latte, I’ll be there.
Just because I can survive on a regular cup of coffee doesn’t mean I don’t like something with a little more oomph. But when you live on ranches across the country, you adapt and normally a cup of coffee is about as good as it’s going to get. Sometimes you might even get a flavored creamer. That’s living the high life when it comes to some ranch refrigerators.
The post office, school, and library are all next to each other and I’m pleasantly surprised to find that the library is a good size. We’ll have to stop in and get a library card because August loves to read. Having a physical book isn’t really conducive to the way we’ve been living, which is why he has a reading app on his tablet. Still, he prefers to hold the book, and I can’t say I blame him much.
There’s something special about holding a book in your hands. I remember being caught by our parents reading under the covers with a flashlight on more than one occasion. Swallowing hard, I try and embrace those memories whenever they slam into me instead of pushing them away just because they’re painful.
I don’t think the pain will ever go away. Talking about them may not be helping, but I don’t do it for me. August doesn’t remember them, but I want them to be able to live on for him. All I have left of them is the memories I can share with him.
Maybe I’m just doing more harm than good. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing most of the time.
As the town fades and the landscape shifts to something more open, I know we’re heading in the right direction just by the landscape alone. It reminds me a little bit of the land around the ranch we had to give up. That was a painful as hell decision, but there was no way I could have maintained it.
Our parents weren’t prepared for their deaths; not like I think they should have been. They had taken out a second mortgage around the time August was born and when they passed, the ranch was barely worth more than what they owed.
Not only was it difficult to give up something our dad put so much into, but I hated having to lay off all the ranch’s employees. When you grow up in an area which thrives off ranch life, you know how valuable the work is and you’re close to the families who rely on those jobs. I had to disappoint the fathers of some of my friends, the same people I grew up with and went to school with. Hell, we were like one huge family.
I can only hope that they understood that it wasn’t an easy decision for me. If there was any other way, I would have gladly taken it.
“The town wasn’t very big,” August sounds pensive and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye while making a humming sound in agreement.
No matter where we go, he doesn’t usually spend very much time in town. He doesn’t like the attention and, unfortunately, he learned quickly that his slight limp puts him in the spotlight. Then if anyone talks to him and he needs to take a little time to answer, it brings on questions. Why can’t people just accept someone different from them? Why do they need to know all the details and feel like they should be able to ask intrusive questions as if it’s any of their business?
I’ll never understand it and I’ll always have August’s back when it comes to situations like that. I’ve gotten damn good at putting people in their place over the years. Usually, the attention isn’t so bad on the ranches where we work. Maybe it’s because they know I’m there for the sole purpose of equine therapy. Or maybe they’re more used to minding their own damn business.
Either way, it’s kept August on the ranches through the years instead of roaming around whatever towns we’re close to.
“It is pretty out here, though,” he muses as he watches the world go by.
“It is.” I sigh, “Something about it reminds me of our old ranch.”
He swallows hard, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, “I was thinking the same thing, I just wish I had more than photos of it.” He glances at me, and I catch a glimpse of the sadness in his eyes before he looks out his window again. “It’s too bad you can’t just beam your memories to me.”
I giggle because that is the kind of ideas August has all the time. “Once someone invents a way for me to do it, I’ll be the first in line so I can share all those memories with you.”
When I glance at him again, he’s grinning from ear to ear, the sadness of what we’ve both lost no longer darkening his features. It makes my heart happy to see him like this. For just a moment, the pain, the loss, the hurdles he’s had to overcome, disappear. He’s just a kid; and a damn good one.
As we pull up to a large farmhouse similar to other ranch houses, including the one I grew up in, the front door opens and three men, a woman, and a small boy step out onto the porch. August twists his fingers together in his lap as I park. When I reach over and cover his hands with mine, he looks at me.
He looks so lost for a moment, but I force a smile on my face. “Ready?”
August shakes off the fear about being in a new place, again, and flashes me a lopsided grin. “As I’ll ever be.”
I bark out a laugh as I get out, knowing he’ll be right behind me. There was a time when I would go around and open his door. Hell, there was a time when I had to help him out of a car seat since he was small for his age. He’s been making up for it over the last few years and now loves to remind me about how he’s surpassed me in height. The little pissant.
As I head toward the porch, my brother falls in step with me. I glance over the men, who are clearly brothers with the same dark hair and similar height and builds. The first one has his arm wrapped around the woman’s waist as she reaches down to run her fingers through the boy’s hair. He’s peeking out at us around the woman’s legs. He might be a little wary, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes.
The second guy is standing there with a cocky grin on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He’s eyeing me like his favorite snack has just been delivered to his front door. I can only roll my eyes because guys like him are a dime a dozen. I’ve met them all over the country and I haven’t been impressed by many of them. They can start to grow on me after they lose the bullshit facade and let themselves be real. It’s usually all an act to protect themselves, not that I’d tell any of them that outright.
When I look at the third guy, my breath hitches. He has a full beard, but it’s impeccably groomed. His dark hair, which is short on the sides and much longer on the top, is styled back. He has some jeans on which look like they’ve been molded to his strong legs. Then there’s the henley stretched across his chest. His eyes rake over me like he’s seeing something he likes, but there’s nothing comical or fake about the way he’s looking at me.
This is different. He’s looking at me like he’s found a treasure. My heart starts to pound in my chest, and I swear I can feel a bead of sweat rolling down my back. I have to force myself to take some good, deep breaths to ensure I don’t start panting.
I’ve never seen a man as hot as this one. He might be sexy as hell and making me feel something I’ve never felt before, but this is still a job. Reality slams into me. I’ve never crossed the line when it comes to my job and the people I work for or work with. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.
With a fake as hell smile on my face, I step closer knowing August will follow me. The man who has no right to look as good as he does steps forward and around the rest of the people. I swear I can feel the heat coming off him the closer he gets.
“Delaney Reeves?” The timbre of his voice goes straight through me, and I have to fight against my body’s natural response.
Do not shiver in front of your new boss. Do not shiver in front of your new boss.
After sliding my hands over my jeans, hoping that my palms aren’t too sweaty, I chirp, “That’s me.”
I stick my hand out in front of me and have to lock my knees when he slides his hand into mine. His brown eyes flare with something like possession the moment he touches me. But it can’t happen. Not with him.
“This is my brother, August,” I make my voice a little louder to make sure everyone watching my world flip on its axis can hear me while I nod toward my brother.
“I’m glad you made it in safely,” the man still holding my hand, which has now gone on way too long, says. There’s something more in his voice, something I don’t want to examine at the moment. “I’m Noel Burns.”
Oh shit. He’s the one who reached out to me. I was already impressed with how passionate he was about starting an equine therapy program here. And now he looks like this?
He lets go of my hand, finally, but the moment he does I miss his touch. Keeping a neutral mask in place is harder than it should be.
Noel turns toward the other people on the porch where the couple is looking between us with knowing grins. “These are my brothers, Fletcher,” he gestures toward the man with his arm around the woman’s waist before motioning to the other, cockier one, “and Huxley. This is Fletcher’s fiancé, Eden, and my nephew, Macklin.”
I give the dorkiest wave I’ve ever managed in my life. “Nice to meet you,” my voice is far too high, and I can hear how forced it sounds. I need to get myself under control.
Noel turns to me, a mischievous glint in his eye, “Do you want to start the tour with the horses or with the house?”
“Horses,” I blurt. They’re safer; much safer.
I don’t think I can handle being near a bed and Noel right now. Having August at my side should be enough of a deterrent, but it’s not.
Do not climb your boss like a tree. Do not climb your boss like a tree.
“Horses it is,” there’s a tease in Noel’s voice which has me wishing I wasn’t as transparent as I, apparently, am. His gaze turns hungry, and his voice drops an octave, “I’ll show you your room later.”
Meeting the horses feels familiar and there’s nothing really surprising on the tour. I’m thankful because I don’t think I could deal with any more surprises today. August sticks to my side, his excitement over meeting new horses keeping me grounded in what needs to be done.
“This is Buttercup,” Noel’s voice holds a heap of affection as he introduces us to a beautiful mare.
August gushes, “You’re gorgeous.” The horse turns her head and takes in my brother before letting out a huff and moving closer to him. That’s all it takes for him to introduce himself with a quite murmur, “My name is August. We’re going to be best friends.”
Noel chuckles as he steps away and I join him, allowing them to have a little bonding moment. “Eden is going to be so jealous.” When I give him a curious look, he explains, “Buttercup and Eden were best friends, but then she left to go to college. Fletch and Eden couldn’t make a long-distance relationship work, but she recently came back with Macklin. That was all Fletch needed to make his woman his again.”
“Wow,” I breathe out, a little surprised with all the information he has shared with me. They looked so…secure together. I wouldn’t have guessed they spent years apart or that Macklin isn’t Fletcher’s son.
But, then again, I’ve learned over the years that blood doesn’t make a family.
“Yeah,” he grins at me before his face turns serious. He nods toward August, his voice low, “Is there anything I need to know to make sure your brother stays safe?”
I stiffen and my eyes narrow, I try to keep my voice neutral, but it comes out more like an accusatory hiss, “What do you mean?”
Noel isn’t bothered by my reaction, his face remaining open instead of becoming shuttered. “I noticed his limp and how he takes a little extra time sometimes when he speaks.” My glare must go from skeptical to downright murderous because he raises his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging you or him and I don’t need to know his whole history right now.” Something unsaid lingers with his words. “I just want to be able to keep him safe,” he assures me.
I deflate and nod slowly. “Sorry,” I whisper, but there’s nothing demanding in Noel’s expression. “He was in an accident eight years ago, the same one that killed our parents. There was a lot of rehab and relearning that needed to happen. Thankfully, he was only four, but it still left some scars, both internal and external. He’s great with horses and has been traveling with me for a long time. He’s not a liability and even if he is, it is covered in my contract.”
Noel looks over at August and I watch as a soft smile lifts his lips. “A liability is the last thing that boy is.”
I blink a few times, unsure of what to say for the first time in a very long time. So much is left unsaid in the silence that stretches between us, but I’m almost afraid to fill them with words.
I’m in a daze for the rest of the tour, unable to shake Noel’s words. It wasn’t just the care and empathy, but there was something else there too. Something deeper. Something that should make me run the other direction as quickly as I can. But at the same time, I desperately want to find out if the promises I see in Noel’s eyes whenever he looks my way could be real.
“August, buddy,” Noel slides a door open and nods inside, “this room is for you. It used to be Carson’s room. She’s our sister but is now a tattoo artist in Denver.”
“Cool,” August exclaims after walking inside and when I stick my head in, I chuckle at the neutral room dotted with drawings depicting the ranch as well as some old tack and horseshoes. It reminds me of my room when I was growing up. “This is great,” he muses and collapses back on the bed.
Noel chuckles and then points down the hall. “Huxley is on the other side of the house, so you don’t have to worry about him,” the hard edge in his voice surprises me. When I look at him his jaw is clenched and he’s looking at me possessively. “This is you,” he tells me and opens the door, “it was mine until Fletch built his house and I moved into the primary.”
Without thinking about it, I blurt, “Where are your parents?” I slap my hands over my mouth, knowing how dangerous the words are that I just put out there so carelessly. “I’m sorry, that was nosy,” my words are muffled by my hands.
Noel’s dark brown eyes soften. My entire body starts to buzz when he reaches over, grips my wrists, and pulls them away from my face. I barely keep standing as his thumb brushes over the smattering of freckles running over the bridge of my nose and across both cheeks. What is it about this man that does me in so thoroughly?
“It’s okay, Freckles,” he assures me softly. “When they handed Limitless over to Fletch officially, they bought an RV and have been touring the country to see all the places they always wanted to visit but couldn’t because of responsibilities here. They’ll be coming back soon since Fletcher and Eden’s wedding isn’t far off.”
“Oh,” I whisper, relief filling me.
I wonder why I see the echo of sadness and loss in Noel’s eyes at times then. While studying him, I tilt my head slightly and bite my lip. As much as I want to know, I’m not going to ask.
“I’m right there,” he points toward the room right next door, and I gulp, “if you need me. Dinner will be in about an hour,” he informs me before winking and leaving me standing at the door of the room which is going to be mine for the next little while.
I should go in and check it out before unpacking and checking on Auggie. But I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Noel’s door.
How the hell am I going to survive being this close to him? It feels far too dangerous.