Chapter 9 #2
Everything smelled so green, so fresh. No honking taxis, diesel fumes, crowded sidewalks. Just wide open space and peace.
They'd been riding for maybe twenty minutes when Liv realized she'd stopped gripping the saddle horn like it owed her money. Her shoulders had dropped. Her breathing had evened out. And somewhere between the pond and the far pasture, fear had gotten replaced by something else.
Wonder, maybe.
"This is nice," she said, surprising herself.
Mike looked up at her, and the pride in his eyes made her chest go tight. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She let herself smile. "Who knew?"
"Told you Sally was magic. See that fence post?" Mike pointed to a charred section of rail. "That's where Kenny tried to smoke out a hornet's nest with a shop torch last summer."
"Tried?"
"Well, he got the hornets. Also got the fence, half a hay bale, and his own eyebrows." Mike grinned. "Lyle said he looked like a startled egg for a month."
Liv laughed and the sound echoed across the open pasture. "Did he learn his lesson?"
"Hell no. Three weeks later he tried it again with a different nest. That's Kenny. If it didn't work the first time, it must've been operator error."
They rode in comfortable silence after that, and something had shifted between them. The air felt charged, full of possibility and promise. When they finally circled back toward the barn, Liv didn't want the ride to end.
Mike helped her down from Sally's back, his hands lingering on her waist, and for a moment they stood close enough that she could count the flecks of gold in his eyes.
She looked at him, this man who'd given her a job without questions and made her feel safe enough to be terrified on top of a thousand-pound animal.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For forcing me out of my comfort zone."
Something shifted in his expression, went soft and fierce at the same time. "Anytime, darlin'."
The afternoon passed in a blur of contentment. Liv and Charlotte spent an hour planning elaborate cookie designs for the bake sale, Charlotte's suggestions growing increasingly ambitious.
"What about cookies that look like fire hydrants? Dogs love those! And maybe ones shaped like squeaky toys!"
Heather joined them on the porch with sweet tea and her own ideas.
"We'll need help," she said, studying the list that had grown to three pages.
"The McGrady ranch might donate some beef for the barbecue.
And Cooter's always looking for an excuse to fire up his smoker since his wife put him on a diet. "
"I can reach out to suppliers in Austin," Liv offered. "There's a chocolate distributor I used to work with who owes me a favor."
“Is that safe?” Heather asked.
For an instant she’d forgotten. “I’ll use the ranch’s name, not mine.
It felt strange, using her old connections for something so purely good. In New York, every favor had come with strings attached, every relationship calculated for maximum benefit.
This felt different.
Clean.
Charlotte bounced in her chair. "This is gonna be the best bake sale ever! The puppies are gonna have so much money for food and toys!"
"Speaking of puppies," Heather said, “I’ve got one waiting for me who needs some excess energy worked off.”
“Mo?” Liv asked.
“That’s the one. Little stinker. Still gets distracted by every leaf, bug or rock in his path.”
“Well, I have no doubt you’ll have him shaped up in no time.”
Liv was showing Charlotte how to pipe frosting rosettes, the little girl's tongue stuck out in concentration, her hands surprisingly steady, when Lyle came up the porch steps with the day's mail.
"This came for you," he said, holding out a plain white envelope.
No return address. Just her name. Liv Ramsey, printed in generic block letters.
The frosting bag slipped in her hands.
“Thought about giving it to Mike to open,” Lyle said, watching her.
To spare her bad news she realized. Because in reality, Liv Ramsey didn’t exist, so there was no reason she should be receiving mail and they both knew it.
“Thank you for giving me the choice.” She wiped her hands on her apron and took the envelope, trying to keep her fingers from shaking.
Inside was a single card. Cream-colored, expensive stock.
Hope you're enjoying the countryside. It was printed in generic block letters.
That was it. No signature. No other message.
But Liv's hands went cold anyway.
Charlotte looked up from her frosting. "Is it a birthday card?"
"Something like that, sweetie." Liv forced a smile and tucked the card back in the envelope. "Why don't you go show your Aunt Heather what you made? I bet she'll want to take a picture."
Charlotte bounded off, pigtails flying, leaving Liv alone on the porch with Lyle.
"That's not nothing," he said quietly.
"No." She met his eyes. "It's not."
"Want me to show Mike?"
"Might as well." She handed him the card and pressed her palm flat against the porch rail, steadying herself.
Lyle nodded slowly. "I'll tell Joe to check the security footage. See if we can figure out who delivered it."
"Thank you."
He squeezed her shoulder once, solid and reassuring, then headed inside.
Liv stood there for a long moment, staring out at the pastures she'd been learning to love, the ranch life that had been so foreign to her life mere weeks ago but felt like a part of her now. What in the world made her think she should plan a bake sale two weeks away when she had no solid guarantee she’d even be here two hours from now?
Living life minute by minute took every ounce of courage she possessed.
The evening guests started filtering in around five-thirty, hungry from their day of trail rides and eager for the dinner spread Arletta and Mike had been preparing all afternoon.
Mike hadn’t said anything about the card, but she knew he’d discussed it with his brothers.
Which was fine with Liv. They had the expertise in stuff like this.
She didn’t. She trusted them to come up with a plan.
He’d watched her all afternoon, though, never far from her side, which was both a blessing and a curse. Because Mike’s closeness was a sensual distraction that made her jumpy.
The dining room filled with the comfortable chaos of families laughing, couples holding hands, solo travelers striking up conversations with strangers who wouldn't be strangers by dessert, all bonding over food and horseback rides.
Liv refilled the coffee station and glanced up when a man approached, stopping beside her. He had on new boots. Not broken-in new. Store-tag new. The kind city folks bought when they wanted to look like cowboys but didn't want to put in the work.
Liv noticed because lately she'd forced herself to notice everything.
"Excuse me, miss." His smile was wide and practiced. "You the one responsible for those cinnamon knots everyone's raving about?"
"That's me." She kept her voice light, friendly. "Would you like to try one?"
"I would, thanks." He watched her plate it, his attention too focused, like he was memorizing the way she moved. "You must be new here. Don't remember seeing you on our last visit."
Except the guest log showed this was his first time at the ranch.
Liv knew. She'd checked that morning, this new sense of paranoia swirling around her making her memorize every name, every face.
"I’m here seasonally," she said carefully.
"Huh. Seems like you fit right in." He took the plate. "Thanks. I'll let you get back to work."
He moved away, but Liv felt his eyes on her back as she worked, couldn't shake the feeling that he was cataloging her every move.
Get a grip, she told herself. She glanced over and saw that Mike was watching her. Warmth flooded her chest, replacing suspicion. She loved that he rarely let her out of his sight. His protectiveness gave her strength.
She winked at him and his brows raised in surprise. Then a slow grin spread across his face before he pushed off the wall and ducked back in the kitchen,
After all the guests had retired to their cabins, Liv went out to sit on the porch swing.
As much as she tried to suppress them, her nerves jangled like wind chimes in a storm.
Charlotte was playing with a litter of rescue puppies on the lawn, their joyful barks a sharp contrast to the anxiety gnawing at Liv's stomach.
The card. The too-smooth guest with his searching questions.
She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she jumped when Mike's hand settled gently on her shoulder.
"Easy," he murmured, settling beside her on the swing. "Just me."
The warmth of his presence helped steady her, but she couldn't quite shake the chill that had settled in her bones.
"Good day?" he asked, though his eyes suggested he already knew the answer. And he probably did since he’d watched her like a hawk all day.
She considered lying, maintaining the facade of normalcy they'd all worked so hard to build. But the weight of constant vigilance was exhausting, and Mike's steady presence made her want to be honest.
"Mostly," she said carefully. "The riding lesson was wonderful. Planning the bake sale with Charlotte and Heather made me feel... useful. Like I could actually contribute something to this community."
"But?"
She sighed, leaning into his warmth. "But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time I start to feel safe, something reminds me that I'm still a loose end in some crime boss’s orbit."
Mike's arm came around her shoulders, solid and sure.
"I don't want to bring trouble to your family, Mike." she whispered.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I hate this waiting game probably more than you do. I’d just as soon shoot somebody and get it over with.”
She sputtered out a laugh, loved the fact that this man, with a single rhetorical statement, could change her mood and soothe her like the flip of a pancake. “You’re a crazy man, Mike Watkins. And I like you.” The porch swing creaked as she shifted and turned into him. “A lot.”