Chapter 22
maverick
Istayed the day at Longhorn.
I’ve been here before when Rami was alive, when Hudson and Celine were in the house. It seemed oppressive to me.
But now, with them gone, and Aria’s laughter filling the space, Longhorn Ranch looks like it’s welcoming spring and renewal in more ways than one.
“Zane patched another fence that looked worn in the north end,” I tell Aria.
“I….” She looks at me, puzzled, as if surprised that I’m helping her, which is starting to piss me off.
We may have started off on the wrong foot, but I feel like I’ve made amends, and she still looks at me with suspicion, like I have some hidden agenda.
As far as I’m concerned, my agenda of getting her into my bed is out in the open, so I don’t know what her damage is.
“He and the others are on their way back to Kincaid Farms.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Darlin’, I’d do it for any neighbor.” I can’t keep the bite out of my tone.
“True, but you probably wouldn’t spend the day with them, helping with more than the fence,” she points out and smiles at me. “Maverick, I’m really grateful.”
I soften, happy that she noticed my efforts.
Like a puppy who’s been patted on his head.
The woman was tying me up in knots.
I should’ve left hours ago, but I didn’t. Instead, I went to double-check the west line.
“What are you still doin’ here, Mav?” Earl asks as he lumbers through the barn.
“Just wanted to check the west line…while the sun’s up.”
He gives me a long look—like he knows I’m full of shit ‘cause I’m here for Aria but decides not to call me on it.
We both watch the woman in question wipe her hands on a rag by the tool shed, her braid trailing down her back, dust streaking her jeans.
She’s crouched next to the old John Deere, the hood popped, and a socket wrench in reach, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She’s been elbow-deep in a stubborn starter.
“Didn’t think she knew how to fix shit,” Earl drawls. “But she knows her stuff. Got the pump workin’ all by herself.”
I’m just as surprised as Earl—no question about it. But then I’ve also come to realize that maybe Celine hasn’t been particularly honest about her sister. I’ve let go of all my assumptions when it comes to Aria.
“The fence,” I muse aloud. “I think it was done on purpose.”
Earl grunts. “Yeah. She don’t suspect it, though.”
“No.” I tuck my hands in my jeans pockets and rock on the balls of my feet. I know I should tell her about my doubts, but I don’t want to add to her burdens, which are considerable. “Anything else going on that worries you?”
He seems to think about it for a long moment. “Last week, some of the alfalfa bales were laced with moldy filler.”
“How bad?”
He shrugs once. “A few cows got sick. I thought it was poor storage, but now, I ain’t so sure.”
“You think someone did it on purpose?”
Earl pulls his hat off, runs a hand through his graying hair, then props a boot on the lower rail of the fence as he looks out at the recovering herd. “Yeah, I do.”
“Someone wants Aria to fail,” I surmise.
“If I didn’t know you, I’d have thought it was you.”
“That’s not my style.”
“No.” He looks at me. “You know whose style this is?”
“Hudson’s?”
He nods and goes back to staring at the herd. “She sells at Gunnison, she can make it work. She’s good. She’s done her research. Called some fancy agriculture professor from her college, and…I think if we can get the cattle sold, we’ll make it.”
There’s pride in his voice when he speaks of Aria—and I get it. I feel it, too.
Not so long ago, I thought she’d fail. That, I’d then come to her rescue. Now, I’m convinced that she can get this past the finish line, and I want the privilege to help get her there.
“Exactly how many cows got sick?”
“A couple. It was mild. Aria caught it in time. Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”
I glance at him. “Only a couple?”
He nods, squints toward the barn. “Because of luck, mostly. That and the way Tomas staggers the feeding. The first bale he rolled out yesterday morning was the one with the worst of it—moldy alfalfa mixed in with the filler hay. We had six or seven in that corner pen that got to it first.”
“New supplier?”
He shakes his head. “Same as always. We got it from Pryor.” He spits to the side. “Aria noticed two of the cows acting off mid-afternoon—head drooping, slow to stand, slobberin’ some. She knew right then something was off.”
Earl turns to face me fully, his eyes serious. “The second bale wasn’t touched much yet—mostly surface nibbles. If she hadn’t had us separate the feed by pen rotation this week, it would’ve gone to the whole damn herd.”
My stomach twists. “You’d be calling the vet for twenty head instead of two.”
“Yeah,” Earl says. “We caught it early. Vet pumped their stomachs, started ‘em on activated charcoal and fluids. We’ll watch for signs of toxicosis for a few more days, but odds are they’ll bounce back fine.”
He pulls out his pack of Marlboro Reds. “But I’m telling you right now, this wasn’t storage failure. Mold don’t grow like this unless it was already in the bale. And someone knew what they were doin’.”
Earl gives me a look that says he’s not trying to scare me, only trying to make sure I don’t miss what’s in front of me.
“You got lucky. But next time….”
Earl lights a cigarette. “Since then, she’s making sure we run checks on the mineral tubs and reweigh the feed supplements—making damn sure we don’t have another bad bale.”
I hadn’t realized just how much weight Aria carries every day—how many decisions, worries, and expectations rest on her shoulders. She’s holding this ranch together, holding herself together, and working so damn hard to save her family’s legacy.
My respect for her deepens.
“I’ll help keep an eye on things. I’ll be around more,” I tell Earl.
He snickers as if he already knew that.
I walk up to Aria. She turns when she hears my footsteps. “Something else broken?”
“Not yet.”
However, this is a working ranch, which means something is bound to need fixing. That’s the nature of the beast. And Aria has very few hands. If she’d had to wrangle the herd and fix the fence, they’d still be at it.
She smiles at me, it’s like the sun shining after a storm. “You’re still here,” she states the obvious.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I like helping you.” The truth, plain and simple.
She tosses the rag she’s been using to wipe her hands onto the fence post. “It’s been a long day. Feel like a short walk? I know a place with a great view.”
“Yeah, Aria, I’d like that.”
But I know now that the only view I need is her.
I still find it incredible how quickly she’s wormed her way under my skin and, dare I say, into my heart. This beautiful, brave woman calls to me in ways no other woman ever has.
She leads me toward the ridge behind the barn. We climb up the gentle slope, past scrub grass and early Wildflowers just pushing through the earth.
At the top, we settle on an old, flat rock that probably served generations of ranch hands as the perfect place to waste daylight.
Below us, Longhorn spreads out in soft shades of gold and rust—the fence line glints in the light. The cattle are small black specks.
“I love it here,” she says softly.
“But you left.”
She turns to look at me with stricken eyes. “I don’t know what Celine told you, but I didn’t want to leave.”
I want her to tell me her story, the one that makes her sad. I gathered enough from the will reading that she and Rami had a falling out, and he never asked her to come back home.
“It doesn’t matter what Celine told me. I got eyes. I can see for myself that you love the land.”
“I do.” Her voice cracks a little.
I take her hand in mine. “My parents died when I was eighteen. Joy was eight.”
“You raised her.” She squeezes my hand gently.
“I did. I had to grow up fast. Took care of the ranch…it was in Texas, outside Austin. Like you, I didn’t have a lot of resources, but I made it work.”
I lace my fingers with hers, strengthening our hold. “Then Texas started to modernize ranch country. I didn’t want to raise cattle and hay next to a golf course, so I sold. Came here.”
“You’ve done well for yourself.” She nudges her shoulder against mine. “Very well, from what I hear.”
“I had Lady Luck on my side…a lot.”
“That’s not luck.” She locks her eyes with mine. “That’s grit. Timing. Brains.”
“I had support, Aria, I didn’t do it alone. Zane. Joy. Elena. A lot of people helped me.”
She looks away again, out toward the far hills. “You’re helping me.”
“Tell me what happened between you and Rami.”
She turns now, and there’s a fire in her eyes, sudden, bright.
“He made me the villain in the Delgado Family Soap Opera.”
“What did you do?”
She licks her lips. “I couldn’t keep my man.”
I quirk a questioning eyebrow.
She gives me a wan smile. “I came home with Hudson for the summer. We were engaged.”
I keep my face impassive. I’m not exactly shocked; I suspected this, but hearing her say it is jarring.
“He fell in love with Celine, and…she was pregnant.”
I wait. There’s more—there always is with her. I know her well enough by now to understand it wasn’t just Celine and Hudson’s betrayal that broke her. It was Rami’s. That’s the one that cut her the deepest.
“Papa said I needed to accept, help plan the wedding, blah blah. I couldn’t believe it. Hudson cheated on me with her, and Papa’s accusing me of not being able to hold on to my man, for losing him to Celine.”
I trace slow, gentle circles on her hand with my thumb, hoping to soothe her. She leans into me—just a little—but enough to say she’ll take what comfort I’m offering. My heart stumbles, then picks up pace.
“I was angry. I was twenty. I was hurt. Papa said if I didn’t behave I could leave. So…I left.”
“Jesus.”