Chapter 3
Lauren
I watch Bronco’s truck pull into the parking lot and hit the button on the office phone to switch to the message service. It will let callers leave a message while I go outside for a moment. I rarely turn it on, but I need a minute.
With the phone off, I slip back into my shoes and hurry out the door. The May breeze ruffles my hair as I walk, and I inhale deeply, enjoying the smell of cut spring grass. It’s a perfect, peaceful day. But I feel anything but settled as I force myself forward to see Bronco.
I kissed him.
Earlier today, I kissed him.
I didn’t mean to, but it still happened. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, the way his beard pressed against my face. How soft his lips were. I could relive that moment over and over again for a lifetime and not get tired of it.
But I don’t want Bronco thinking that I meant to do that. He already thinks I’m his best friend’s annoying little sister. I’d just die if he thought I had a crush on him. I mean, I do. A really big one that makes my chest ache whenever he looks at me, but he can’t know. He can never know.
I reach the truck just as he steps out, hauling his toolbox with him. He’s here to finish the pipe repair, and normally, I’d talk to him when he gets into the lobby. But this conversation is already going to be too awkward. We don’t need to add a live audience to complete my humiliation.
I take a deep breath and pause. The words are stuck in my throat.
He waits for me to speak, patient as always.
It’s the kindness in his eyes that reminds me to be brave.
Bronco has never once been anything but kind to me.
He always deals with me so gently, like I’m precious.
A girl could let herself get the wrong idea if she wanted to.
Fortunately, I’m not like that. Nope, no illusions here about Bronco and his perfect smile or his willingness to always come by anytime I have an emergency, no matter how minor.
Finally, I blurt out, “I didn’t mean to kiss you. Not like that anyway. I was going for an affectionate peck. You know, the kind you might give an elderly relative.”
Bronco quirks a bushy eyebrow. “An elderly relative?”
My cheeks are a million degrees. The sun must be extra hot today, and it’s burning my face. It’s not my fault I was born with fair skin. It’s my genetics. Totally nothing to do with the teasing look on Bronco’s face. “Well, you know, you are older than me.”
Only ten years older which I actually hate reminding him of. He always acts like he’s a million years older than me. When you think about it, ten years really isn’t that much. It’s just one teeny, tiny decade. I wish I could get him to see it that way.
“It’s not about age. It’s about wisdom. One day, you’ll understand.” He takes his toolbox and starts to the building. I don’t miss the slight limp.
He was medically discharged from the Marines due to a back injury, but it’s his foot that troubles me.
He mentioned once that his foot is now more plate and screw than bone and tendon.
But it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it, so I never asked what happened.
If he wants to tell me, he can tell me. I wish he’d share all his secrets, let me hear every thought in his head.
If Bronco opened up to me, I’d be the happiest girl in the world.
I fall into step beside me. “Is that what you’re calling it? Because even you have to admit, there’s more salt than pepper in the beard now.”
“Salt and pepper is earned, given to the distinguished few,” he mutters, holding open the door.
“If that’s your story,” I say as I follow him back to my room.
I don’t plan on hanging out here all afternoon while he works.
In the light of day, I have to be careful not to let my gaze go to my bed.
I’ve laid there so many nights dreaming of Bronco and okay, yeah, touching myself to the idea that we could be touching.
Fortunately, Bronco doesn’t even notice my gaze straying to the bed. He gets to his knees, evaluating his prior work. “Going to need to cut the water off to your unit again. You don’t have to stick around. I know you have work to do.”
This is my moment, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. I’ve been thinking about this all morning, but I want to get it right. I don’t want to say the wrong thing to Bronco. “Last night, you mentioned a fundraiser, using Valor Ranch. Is that…is that still on the table?”
He doesn’t even glance up. “For you, anything.”
No, little heart do not fill with happiness. That’s how you end up broken. “So, then I can put it online as a petting zoo?”
“I don’t care.” He pauses in his evaluation. “Don’t put your name and location out there or anything crazy. Stranger danger applies to the internet. Or so I’ve been told. All sorts of scary things happen to pretty girls like you online.”
He called me pretty!
I fight not to roll my eyes since I run the entire server for the retirement home. Not just the website, but the actual server and the portal software. I’m kind of a bad ass behind a keyboard though no one knows that. It’s the way I prefer it. “I know about online safety.”
“And don’t give anyone your passwords. Or use password for your password. I’ve heard that’s a bad idea too.”
Okay, I finally roll my eyes. “But I was just planning to publish them on this new forum I found called, Safety Tips from My Elderly Relative.”
He looks up at me, frustration evident on his face. “Online safety isn’t a joke.”
I wonder how long it’s been since he was on the internet, remembering now that he’s been deployed all over the world. Sometimes, in places without access to any technology. He told me once that he can make a radio transmitter with just a nail and a tin can.
“I will be super careful, promise,” I answer.
Heck, maybe I do need the reminder after what happened to Aunt Elaine.
Although, in all fairness, the guy did check out.
Everything he said, I was able to verify—where he lived and who he was.
I just didn’t realize until it was too late that he was using filters on the video calls to change his appearance.
“That’s all I ask,” he says.
I leave him to his work and return to my desk in the reception area. In between helping residents, I start my research on the best way to offer the petting zoo. It’s an offline experience, but I’m hoping I can get the word out, so people beyond the borders of Courage County show up.
After a few hours of research, I settle on building my own website for the petting zoo.
It’s the best solution since some of the fundraising platforms have high fees.
I get that they have to make money, but that means not every dollar goes to the families and communities in need, a fact that isn’t always disclosed to donors.
Once I’m done with the website, I link it to the right platforms and ask a few online friends to share it on their circles.
It’s not much, but it’s a start. Maybe it’ll get the wheels turning.
After all, sometimes what’s needed is a little push.
I can only hope this is the little push the retirement community needs.
“Ooh, my favorite red,” I murmur when Bree, my best friend, opens her fridge and produces a wine bottle she’s had chilling.
She grabs a couple of wine glasses, pausing to shoo away Max and Rex who showed up the moment they heard her opening cabinets.
The dogs are her husband’s German Shepherds.
Dalton had them before he met her, but those two are increasingly more loyal to her than they are him.
I can’t blame them for liking Bree better.
She’s not nearly as grumpy, and she always gives them treats.
“No, your dad said I can’t possibly give you anymore. He’s concerned that I’m spoiling you boys.”
One of them—I think his name is Max—tilts his head and lets out a little whine.
“OK, but just the one,” she says and puts the glasses on the table. She turns back to the cabinet and produces a box of dog treats. They’re the good kind that come from one of those brands that believes in making healthy pet food.
She tosses them each a treat which they quickly devour.
She settles at the table across from me and pours us each a generous glass of wine while the dogs circle before resting at her feet.
She pops a cookie from Courage Cookies into her mouth and moans.
“So good. I can’t believe Haley makes these fresh every day. ”
“She’s really good at what she does. Now, tell me.
How is married life?” I gesture around the cabin.
Bree moved to Courage County recently to become the nurse practitioner at Wildflower Community Center.
But she fell in love with Dalton, the gardener, after he started writing her romantic love letters.
They got married pretty fast, and she’s already moved into his place.
Well, I guess it’s theirs now. It sure is homey with the little throw pillows on the front porch, and the soft quilt on the couch.
Her smile is dreamy, a newlywed still enraptured with the idea of marital bliss. “Being married is the best. I thought it’d be hard getting used to being in a different space and always having someone around. But Dalton and I…we just fit.”
I think of Bronco and how easy it is when I’m with him. We tease each other, well, I tease him, and he responds. He takes care of me, cooks me breakfast, and makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
“But you’re not here to discuss my marriage.”
“I’m not?” I swallow a sip of wine and remind myself that’s the difference.
Bree and Dalton are married. Bronco and I aren’t.
Bronco doesn’t see me as anything other than a responsibility that got dumped on him.
That’s why he’s always so nice to me. The thought sends a bolt of pain through my chest.
“No, I invited you over because you seem sad lately. I wanted to check in.”