Chapter 11
Sunny
Iturn beneath the wrought-iron Twin Oaks archway and my pulse immediately amps up but this time it’s different.
I’m not afraid or nervous—I’m excited. The enormous barn comes into view, and I don’t hold back the grin that stretches my face.
I know exactly who's waiting for me at the end of the drive and I can’t wait to see him.
Just as I hoped, Charlie is leaning against the fence near the barn when I pull in, his arms crossed and hat tipped back.
He looks like a man who's been standing there awhile and doesn't mind one bit.
He crosses the gravel as I park, and I barely have the truck door open before he snags my waist and drags me out.
Before I know it, his lips capture mine in broad daylight where everyone can see.
We've kissed in my kitchen, under the willow tree behind the ranch house, on my front porch in the dark, but never completely out in the open like this.
His mouth takes its own sweet time, and his palm presses into the small of my back.
The surprise of it holds me still for one long second before the rest of me catches up.
I lean into him, gripping the front of his shirt.
His other arm wraps around me, and the kiss deepens just enough to make the Sunday afternoon feel like something worth remembering.
When he draws back, his hazel eyes are bright with satisfaction, and my cheeks are burning so hot I could light a match off them.
"Hey, Sunshine," he murmurs, his lips curving in a content smile.
"You realize you just kissed me in front of your entire ranch."
"I sure did." He doesn't look remotely concerned. "I missed you," he says.
I laugh despite myself. "It's only been three days, Charlie."
"It felt like an eternity." His thumb traces a circle against my hip, and the possession of the gesture makes my pulse hammer. "You look gorgeous."
I'm wearing jeans, a pink tank top, and my favorite beat-up cowgirl boots that I've owned forever. There is nothing stunning about this outfit. But the way his gaze moves from my face to my boots and back tells me he means it.
A chorus of quacking erupts from beyond the far barn, and my head snaps toward the sound.
"They do that now when anyone drives up. They're a better security system than guard dogs," Charlie jokes.
"I can't wait to see them." I'm already moving toward the enclosure, and Charlie falls into step beside me, his hand finding mine as we walk.
"I knew it," he says. "The ducks are the only reason you agreed to come."
"That's not true." I glance up at him and let a beat pass. "Pearl is also a factor."
He scoffs. "So, I'm third on the list. Behind poultry and a horse."
"You're lucky you made the list at all, Hayden."
His laugh carries across the yard, and I squeeze his hand without thinking about it.
The duck enclosure comes into view, and the quacking intensifies.
Gerald is standing on the pink bridge like a sentinel, beady eyes following as we approach.
Karen preens at the water's edge. Wadsworth paddles in lazy circles near the center of the pond, and Biscuit and Dolly are tucked together in the shade by the shelter.
Kevin is pacing the far fence line, voicing his complaints to no one in particular.
Charlie unlatches the gate and holds it for me.
I step through and crouch down, and Gerald waddles off the bridge immediately, his head bobbing as he crosses the grass.
He nudges my outstretched hand with his bill, the cool, smooth pressure of it making me smile so wide my face aches.
Biscuit follows, curious and friendly, and Karen approaches a moment later with her regal caution.
"Hey, sweet boy." I scratch the top of Gerald's head, and he leans into my palm with a contented trill. Dolly and Wadsworth abandon the pond to investigate, and within a minute I have five ducks clustered around me, pecking at my boot and inspecting my jeans.
Kevin stops pacing. His quacking drops from outraged to suspicious, a lower, more inquisitive sound that makes Charlie's eyebrows rise. The duck tilts his head, studies me from across the enclosure, and then waddles toward me.
"Careful," Charlie warns. "He bit the landscaper's assistant yesterday."
Kevin reaches my knee and stops. After a momentary stare-off, I extend one finger toward him.
Kevin leans forward, nudges my fingertip, and squeaks softly as if he hadn’t been delivering a tirade thirty seconds ago. Then he settles onto the grass beside my boot and tucks his bill against his feathers.
Charlie's jaw drops. "Are you kidding me?" His tone suggests he just witnessed something he previously thought impossible. "That damned duck has drawn blood from three people and terrified a ranch hand, and he just cuddled up to you like a lapdog."
"Maybe he just needed someone who wasn't afraid of him."
Charlie shakes his head in disbelief, but the tenderness in his eyes tells a different story. "All right, Sunshine." He extends a hand to help me up. "I promised you a riding lesson."
I give Kevin one last scratch and reluctantly stand, brushing grass from my jeans. Gerald quacks in protest as I step toward the gate, and the chorus starts up again behind us.
The barn interior is cool, the scent of hay and leather and horse filling the air. Pearl stands just inside, her dapple-gray coat gleaming. She turns her head when we enter and nickers at me.
"Hey, girl." I press my palm against her neck, and the mare nudges my shoulder the way she did the first time we met.
"Today you're doing the prep work." Charlie lifts a saddle pad from the rail and holds it out to me. "Last time Pearl came pre-saddled. That's not how it works in the real world."
"Meaning you did the hard part before I got here."
"Exactly. Today, you get to do it yourself."
He slowly walks me through the process, patient as ever.
"That's good. Now the saddle." Charlie lifts the western saddle from the rack and hands it to me, and the weight of it catches me off guard.
My arms dip before I brace, and he steadies my elbow without taking the saddle back.
"Set it gently on top of the pad. You don't want to drop it on her back. "
I swing the saddle up and settle it onto Pearl's back, lining it up the way he explains. My shoulders burn from the effort, and the comparison to lifting barrels and hose equipment makes me appreciate how different this kind of physical work feels.
Within minutes, I've saddled my first horse and I feel like dancing in a circle at the accomplishment.
"Last check." He runs his hand along the cinch and nods. "Yep. She's ready."
I mount with more confidence than my first attempt, finding the stirrup on the second try and swinging up easily. Pearl shifts beneath me and settles, and the height still sends a shock through me.
Charlie mounts Colby, and we ride out through the back gate at a walk, side by side.
The afternoon sun falls across the pastures in long, golden slants, and the air is mild, carrying the scent of honeysuckle.
My hips find Pearl's rhythm faster today, and the tension in my thighs releases as my body remembers what Charlie taught me last time.
"You're sitting better," he says, watching my posture. "You're moving with her instead of fighting her."
"Pearl makes it easy."
Charlie chuckles softly. "She makes it look easy. You're the one doing the work." He steers Colby down a gentle slope toward a row of thick live oaks bordering a small pond, tucked into a hollow between two low hills.
I pull Pearl to a stop beside the water, and the view takes my breath. The pond is still, edged with flowers and shaded by the oaks, and the light filtering through the canopy turns everything to amber. A pair of dragonflies skim the surface, their wings flashing blue.
"Charlie, this is beautiful."
"I found it my second week here. The property map calls it the south stock pond, but that doesn't do it justice.
" He dismounts and loops Colby's reins loosely around a low branch, then reaches up to help me down.
His hands span my waist as he lifts me from the saddle, and I slide against him on the way down, my palms catching on his shoulders.
His fingers dig into the curve of my hips, and for a moment we stand like that, my hands on his shoulders and his body blocking the light.
I'm suddenly very aware of how secluded this spot is, how the only witnesses are the horses and the dragonflies.
If this were a scene in one of the steamy romance novels Tabitha raves about, this would be the part where the heroine loses all common sense.
I let go first, because one of us has to, and settle into the grass. Charlie drops down beside me, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms.
"That first time I drove under that archway, I wasn't sure I'd made the right call moving here.
" He picks a blade of grass and twists it between his fingers.
"Kentucky was all I'd ever known. I grew up knowing I'd run that farm until I was old and gray, the same way my grandfather did, and his father before him. "
"What changed?"
"Rachel." He smiles at the memory. "She left home at eighteen and eventually landed not far from here at the Lazy Fork.
After Mason and I started our venture, Gran started talking about Hill Country, how the land here had room to grow.
" He stares out over the pond. "Selling the farm in Kentucky was the hardest decision I've ever made.
I stood in our old barn on that last morning and said goodbye to the stalls I'd mucked since I was a kid. "
My throat tightens, caught off guard at the vulnerability in his voice.