Chapter 15
As a Colorado native, it’s been ingrained in me to care deeply about the environment.
I always recycle what I can, I had a compost bin on my counter in Denver, and one of the reasons I’m so excited about my chickens is to have another way to prevent food waste.
I stopped purchasing one-use water bottles over five years ago, and I’m working on reducing the amount of plastic I use on a daily basis.
When I started working at the Book Nook and it was too close to my apartment to drive and too far to walk, I invested in a new bike and top-of-the-line helmet so I could cut down on my emissions and bike to work.
Gabby as my witness—thanks to the truly unhinged number of selfies I sent her of me standing in front of, next to, or on top of my bike, and in person, thanks to the one time I forced her to meet me at City Park for a test ride—not only were my intentions pure, so was my enthusiasm.
I decked that bike out with every accessory you could imagine.
I had a basket, a bell, a headlight just in case I stayed out too late one night, and even a personalized plate I ordered from Etsy.
What I also had, and did not account for, was a very sensitive vagina.
After a full month of trying out every seat cushion on the market, I still ended each day feeling like I’d been drop-kicked in my nether regions.
I gave up my environmentally friendly hobby in lieu of an SUV with remote start, heated seats, and four-wheel drive, and my unsuccessful foray with a bike never crossed my mind again.
Until right now.
I tighten my arms around Silas’s waist and readjust my hips behind him as Glory carries us around the ranch.
There’s an ache between my legs, but it’s anything but pleasurable.
I make a list of all the cowboy romance authors that might be receiving a strongly worded DM from me tonight for conveniently leaving this part of the experience out of their books.
They’re lucky they didn’t lie about the scenery being beautiful.
When Silas told me how many acres the ranch was, I knew it was big.
But knowing something and seeing it are two different things.
I’m not sure there’s any way I could’ve conceptualized how much land ten thousand acres actually was until Silas began to guide me through the trails and across the pastures of Starlight Ridge Ranch.
There’s something new at every turn. He introduces me to some of the ranch hands that we pass and shows me their living quarters deep into our ride.
A creek I can’t see from my house runs through the property along with countless ponds and watering holes for the more than one thousand cows roaming the ranch.
I lost track of time ages ago and I still don’t think I’ve seen more than a fraction of the property.
“This one is my favorite.” Silas slows Glory to a stop next to another small pond. “A natural spring sits below it, so even when rain is scarce, this one never goes empty.”
The entire property is a peaceful oasis, but I can see why this one would be his favorite.
Weathered Adirondack chairs sit beside water that hasn’t been muddied by the animals meandering about.
Aging live oak trees drape overhead, long branches intertwining like the intricate design on a quilt made of shade.
Cattle sit across the fence, vocalizing their displeasure with their lack of access to water while the others graze happily on the thick, lush grass.
“Do you come up here a lot?”
“As much as I can,” he says. “It can be hard to get away. My dad said he was retiring, but all that’s turned into is him getting more involved than ever before. I’m pretty sure he goes to bed thinking of new things to add to my schedule on top of the responsibilities I’m already committed to.”
“Family can be a lot.” I tell him something I’m sure every human walking the planet is acutely aware of. “I can’t imagine working with them would make things easier.”
Ciara hightailed it back to the main house soon after the tour started. She said she promised their mom she’d help with dinner, but despite her brilliant smile, I got the distinct impression there were other motives behind her quick departure.
“It’s work,” he says, “but it’s more than that. Ranching is a way of life. It’s baked into us from the moment we take our first breath. Hell, my mom says we’re all attracted to chaos because she spent every pregnancy bouncing us around on horseback. We came out needing to ride.”
Unlike when he mentioned his dad, his voice goes soft as he tells me about his mom. The respect and love he has for her is so apparent, so undeniably sweet, it nips at the ever-present sadness constantly nagging at the back of my brain.
It’s been so long since I thought about my mom and felt more adoration than disappointment. I hope one day I’ll feel that way again.
“Really?” I ask, shoving my feelings back into the little box where they belong. I’m not sure I ever want to unpack them, but I definitely don’t want to do it with my arms wrapped around Silas on his family’s ranch. “I didn’t know you could ride when you’re pregnant.”
“My mom is a born and bred Texan, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but the rules don’t really apply when you’re in Texas.”
I have noticed.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Texas definitely has rules of its own.”
I’m still new, but from what I can tell, a few of them are: teased hair is imperative, cowboy boots are always appropriate footwear, insults should be so close to compliments that you can’t tell them apart, and football is life.
“Now take Texas rules, multiply them by a hundred, and then you’ll get close to what rules on the ranch are like,” he says.
“Starlight Ridge has been in our family for six generations. This place is how we make money but it’s also our family’s legacy.
It’s our legacy.” The way he stresses the word cannot be ignored.
I’m already pressed against his back, but I lean in closer.
“To not only buy land in the 1800s, but to keep it all this time, through threats of violence and theft, through Reconstruction and depressions? It’s more than an accomplishment; it’s a testament.
This land is our story. It’s a connection to our history and resilience.
Every acre we’ve added on, every head of cattle we’ve raised and horse we’ve trained is the promise of our future. ”
The unbridled passion and pride in his voice as he talks about his family history and the land we’re riding on is contagious. The sun hasn’t set and the temperature hasn’t dropped, but chills race down my spine and up my arms.
“That’s really beautiful.” I see Starlight Ridge through a different lens as I look across the land surrounding us. “You’re so lucky to have this.”
Growing up in Denver with a white mom, every day was a fight to hold tight to my connection to my Blackness.
It was reading books and joining clubs. It was doing my own research as a teenager to find a Black beauty salon and spending time at Gabby’s house as often as I could.
I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like growing up here.
“I am,” he says, but the way he says it, I’m not sure I believe him.
“Do you—”
His buzzing phone cuts me off.
“Sorry, hold that thought for just a second.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and his body goes tight beneath me when he looks at the screen. “Yeah.” His clipped tone is miles away from the gentle, soft one he was just using with me. “Okay…yeah. We’re on our way.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye. Tension fills every line of his already taut body and permeates the still, hot ranch air. Silas is the happy-go-lucky Jacobs twin, and I’m not sure how to handle this version of him.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He takes a moment to respond, and seconds turn into hours until his deep exhale cuts through the silence and his back relaxes into my front.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m sorry about that,” he says. “How do you feel about checking out the main house?”
“The main house?” I ask. “There’s more than one?”
He showed me the horse stables and two separate barns, one solely used for feed storage and the other for equipment, but other than the cabins where the ranch hands live, I didn’t see any houses.
“Yeah,” he says, and if it weren’t for his body shaking in front of me, I wouldn’t be able to tell he was laughing. “There’s a few more than one.”
A few more? Holy crap.
How big is this place?
—
We dropped Glory off in another set of stables, and Brandon, one of the ranch hands we met earlier, was there to greet us. Silas jumped off first and helped with my less-than-graceful attempt at getting off Glory before Brandon took her reins to get her settled for the night.
It was the perfect day with the perfect man. We were pressed close all day and it would’ve been easy for his hands to roam where they shouldn’t, but he never so much as tried. He listened to everything I told him and answered every question I had—even the bad ones—with patience and kindness.
My stomach should be filled with butterflies and my heart should be pounding in my chest from just looking at him.
I should be feeling like every romance heroine I’ve ever read about and dreaming of what a happily ever after with Silas would look like.
What I shouldn’t feel is like I spent the day with a really great friend, and I absolutely should not still be thinking about his stupid, infuriating brother.
But what I should feel and what I do feel are two different things, and I’m not exactly known for choosing the easy path in life.