Chapter 5
His tumble down the hill relegated him to three days at home and a week of desk duty, answering phones, doling out fishing licenses. So when the Fourth of July rolled around, Ryder was more than ready for the celebration at Scott’s Farm.
He moved slowly in the mornings, and today was no different. He showered and dressed, then ate a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter. Beyond the windows, the July sun celebrated America’s independence by burning away every last fluffy cloud.
Today should be fun. And he needed a distraction. Being stuck alone at home or at his desk stirred old feelings. Lonely feelings. Tina had kindly sent meals his way a couple of days—for which he was grateful—but never by Elizabeth. Of course, she worked during the day and—
Rein it in, Donovan. He’d thought of her entirely too much lately. That was the worst part of being cooped up at home with only Fred and Ginger to keep him company.
The second worst part was being on desk duty, sitting outside Travis’s office, listening to his big voice gladhanding on the phone, talking to investigators about the illegal removal of trees, trying to blame “a member of my staff.”
Ryder had a growing sense Travis wanted to pin recent messes on him. Which came first? The odd cherrywood orders or the loggers without a contract? Did they both point to him somehow?
Never mind. Today he was celebrating his country and his freedoms with good food, good music, and good friends.
Maybe even try to dance with a pretty, curly-headed brunette.
His cuts were healing, and the bruises, which got worse before better, were just beginning to fade.
He did look like he’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson and lost.
He rinsed his bowl and set it in the dishwasher, then gently stretched his shoulder—which hurt, but the pain was bearable. Taking his keys from the hook by the kitchen door and grabbing the cane he used to keep pressure off his knee, he headed out.
At Scott’s Farm, he crossed through the crowded and lively grounds, looking for the Dorsey family camped under a wide oak. He’d missed the event two years ago, busy moving. Then last year he’d worked. This year, being on injured reserve had at least one perk.
“Ryder! Just in time.” Ethan grabbed him into the Dorsey family huddle. “We’re dividing into teams for the three-legged race.”
“Ethan,” Granny D. said. “The man has a cane. He can’t run.”
“I don’t know…I can give it a go.” Ryder bounced around, but his knee buckled a little. “With the right partner.” His gaze fell on twelve-year-old Austin, son of one of the Dorsey cousins. The kid smiled. Ryder smiled.
However, Austin was paired with someone else for the kids’ division. Will made a team with Markey, yet another Dorsey cousin. When Ryder was younger, he desperately wanted to be a Dorsey cousin. They were everywhere.
Jeff and Ursula paired up, and Ethan and Julie. Pops and Granny signed up for the senior division. That left Ryder without a partner.
“I’ll get Beth.” Jeff backed toward the line of food trucks tucked under a row of shady trees. In the distance, the first band of the day warmed up on the bandstand. “She can break away for one run.”
“Hey, that’s okay. She doesn’t have to—” But Jeff was already making his way down the row, calling for Elizabeth like she was lost in the woods. He rushed back, saying, “She’s in. We’ll get her when we need her.”
Ryder hobbled with the family toward the section roped off for the three-legged race. Maybe he should back out. His knee was aching just from the short walk. Running injured risked further damage to his knee and shoulder. Falling might hurt Elizabeth or any team they tumbled into.
Yet he wanted to race. Wanted to test his mettle. Want to rope his leg with Elizabeth’s and link his arm around her. Hooley, who still manned the race with his clipboard and bullhorn, marched into their midst.
“Okay, Dorseys,” Hooley said. “Give me your teams. You know you ought to let some other folks win now and then. Did you hear about the year we had a prince in the race? Yeah, Prince John from Lauchtenland. That’s how he met Gemma.
She’s a princess now. Go figure. But I guess all y’all know that, eh? So what you got for us, Dorseys?”
“Yes, we know all about the prince and princess, Hooley,” Granny said. “We live here too, you know? And we’ve lost races to the Wedding Shop teams plenty.” Granny D. looked over at Haley Danner and her husband Cole. “We’re coming for you.”
“Bring it on, Betty,” Haley said, laughing.
“Say, Ryder, you back in town?” Hooley licked the tip of his pencil and jotted down his name. “Who you racing with, and what’s your team name?”
“Elizabeth Dorsey. And um, well—”
“‘And um well’ ain’t a name. How about D and D? Donovan and Dorsey.”
“Team D and D?” Ryder made a face. “How about Team Winners?”
“Please,” Hooley said with a scoff. “I get a dozen folks saying that to me every year.”
“Losers?”
Hooley laughed. “Never heard that one before. You want me to write down Losers?” He poised his pencil over the clipboard with one eye on Ryder. “Don’t blame me when you actually lose.”
“Okay, okay, how about Forest Boy-City Girl?”
“Kinda long, but I like it.” Hooley wrote it down, running out of room at the edge of the page. “Got a ring to it.”
To be honest, Ryder wasn’t sure Elizabeth would even show up. She was dedicated to her work and, frankly, didn’t like being told what to do.
But when Heat Seven was on deck with Hooley shouting, “Forest Boy-City Girl,” Elizabeth ran up beside him.
“Hey,” she said, the high planes of her face shaded by her Ella’s Diner hat. “Did Hooley come up with that name or you?”
“He wanted D and D.” Ryder handed Elizabeth the burlap bag, then stooped to tie their ankles together. “I’m tying you to my banged-up knee. If you can help hold me up, I’ll try to carry more weight on my outside foot.”
“Don’t worry, Donovan, I can hold you up.” He caught her grin, and he tripped a little further down the I’ve-got-a-crush-on-you trail.
They tested the strength of his tie, then dunked their legs into the sack. Try as she might to take the pressure off his knee, Ryder still had to add weight. The ache was turning into a gripping pain.
After a couple of practice runs, Hooley called Heat Seven to the starting line.
“Wrap your arm around me tight,” Ryder said, slipping his arm around Elizabeth’s waist. He tried not to think about being so close to her or how the curve of her waist felt under his hand, but her subtle scent—soap, perfume, and a hint of…
chocolate?—refused to let him go. In all the days and nights they’d hung out together, he’d never managed to get this close.
“Y’all racers, ready?” Hooley stepped up to the sideline with his bullhorn. “On your mark, get set…”
At the starter pistol, Ryder and Elizabeth jumped out to an early lead, but after a few yards, they lost their rhythm.
“Ryder, we’re going to fall.”
“No, we’re not. Slow down for a sec…inside legs, outside, inside, outside.” And they were off again, his knee protesting with every move.
The couple next to them tripped and fell in their path. Elizabeth muttered, “Jump,” as they kicked over them. Ryder’s knee buckled, but he wasn’t going to quit now.
They hurdled another couple who’d fallen, landing a bit awkwardly on their joined legs. Ryder breathed through a sharp pain slicing through his leg.
To their left, Ethan and Julie raced with skill. Ethan had been a star athlete at Rock Mill High. On their right, Will and Markey were laughing so hard they kept falling and getting back up.
To his surprise, he and Elizabeth were in third place as they rounded the tree and headed back toward the finish line. Elizabeth’s expression was focused as she whispered, “One, two, one, two.”
In a single moment, he saw her, understood her. She was focused. Driven. Determined. Once she grasped an idea, she owned it. She’d achieve what she wanted in life. And it probably didn’t include being married to a state wildlife officer.
“Oh my goodness, I think we’re going to win.” Elizabeth shot him a sideways glance, her expression so bright he could see nothing else.
“Move over Forest Boy and City Girl.” Crud. Ethan and Julie were right on their tail.
“No way, Ethan!” Elizabeth steered toward the middle of the track to cut them off. The girl wanted this.
Without a word, Ryder gripped Elizabeth tighter and picked up the pace.
Except his knee was done. He pushed harder, but right at the finish line, his leg buckled, launching him and Elizabeth face-first onto the mowed ground.
They tumbled and rolled, stopping with their noses inches, inches, from the finish line.
“We can’t even win by a nose,” Elizabeth said, her laugh muffled by the grass.
“I’m sorry. My knee gave out.”
“What?” She struggled to sit up, shoving their joined leg from the gunny sack. “Let me see.” She pulled away the rope and inspected his knee as it peeked out from the hem of his shorts. “Hey, can we get some help over here?”
“Elizabeth, shhh, it’s okay, I can get up.” But Jeff and Will were already hoisting him off the ground.
“Let’s get him to the medical tent.”
“Stop, stop.” Ryder pulled away from them. “I’m fine. Just give me a sec…” He hobbled off, embarrassed he’d let his ego shove away good friends. Embarrassed his ego had gotten him in the race in the first place. He was such a sucker for family. For Elizabeth Dorsey.
He found a knoll near the river and sat, the air off the water cooling his warm skin. Rubbing his knee, he kept his gaze away from the race site, hoping the Dorseys’ attention had moved on to the next heat.
“We almost had it.” Elizabeth plopped down next to him. “Stupid hole. That’s why we fell.”
Ryder laughed softly. “You’re a terrible liar, Beth. My knee gave out, and we both know it.”
“And I hit a hole.” She jutted out her leg to show her ankle. “See, it’s red. A little.”
He reached for her slender calf, pulling it to him for inspection. But the moment his hand touched her skin, his knee no longer seemed to be a source of bother. He set her foot down without looking over at her.
“Your ankle is fine. However, I should take you to Angelo’s for pizza as a consolation prize.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Ryder,” Elizabeth said, reaching to pick a dandelion rising between blades of grass.
“It’s just pizza. Not resigning your independence or anything.”
“I know, I know, but pizza is like…the classic date,” she said. “Everyone will think that’s what we’re doing, sitting in the romantic candlelight of Angelo’s, standards playing on the jukebox, sipping sodas and eating garlic roll appetizers.”
“Sipping soda and eating garlic rolls. I said pizza. You want a soda and garlic rolls, you’re on your own.”
She grinned and tossed her dandelion at him. “Fine. Pizza. But it’s not a date.”
“Absolutely. Consolation prize only. Why would I want to date you?”
“More like why would I want to date you?”
She smiled and bumped his good shoulder, but she’d hit on a subtle truth. Why would this gorgeous, smart, ambitious woman with nice ankles—though one was slightly red—want to be with him?
“How’s Monday night?” she said, helping him to stand. “I have the night off from Ella’s.”
“Six o’clock? I’ll pick you—”
“I’ll meet you there,” she countered. “And make it six thirty.”