Chapter 17 Lofton #2
“Dad!” Abby whined, and I swear it could have been my voice coming from her mouth twenty years earlier. It was nice to see them carrying on our family traditions.
Courtney slapped her sister on the arm. “Would you shut up so we can ask her?”
Curious, I shifted my gaze between them. “Ask me what?”
“Yeah? Ask her what?” Jenn asked suspiciously.
“Well,” Courtney started, inching over to hook her arm with her sister’s.
Oh wow, a physical truce. This was gonna be good.
I hooked my arms with Jenn’s, mirroring their position.
Abby had always been quieter than her sister, or maybe just the levelheaded little sister as defined by our gene pool. She turned her gaze to the floor as her sister cleared her throat.
“So you know how our birthdays are coming up, right?” Courtney said.
I nodded, rubbing my chin while absently staring into the distance. “I vaguely recall you both having a birthday in June.”
“Well,” Courtney paused as Abby whispered something in her ear. “I’m getting there,” she whisper-yelled back before flashing me a nervous smile. “Anyway, um, we were kind of wondering if maybe you could come to our party this year?”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet. Of course. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it last year.”
It was clearly the wrong thing to say—for me.
Based on their excited giggles and the way they bounced on their toes, I’d fallen directly into their trap.
As if they’d been practicing it the whole drive there, they alternated speaking, each word growing louder than the last.
“Will.”
“You.”
“Get us.”
“Tickets.”
They looked at each other and then blurted out in unison, “To see Henry Alexander!”
I opened my mouth, but Terry got there first. “Absolutely not!”
All eyes turned his way.
“I’ve seen the way that man dances on stage. You don’t need to pay money for that.” He put his hands on his hips, gyrating in a way that made my stomach roll.
His daughters shared that sentiment in unison. “Ew, Dad!”
Jenn stared at her husband in disgust. “Sorry, babe. That was too much even for me.”
Terry glanced over at Brooke and Zoey at the table in the corner, hoping for backup. Even my poor, sweet girl knew to be horrified.
“Nobody gets me.” He slashed a hand through the air and then went back to cooking.
Still trying to shake the image from my head, I turned my attention back to my nieces. “How many tickets?”
They let out loud squeals, hugging and jumping in a circle.
I looked at Jenn. “Shall we?”
She set her coffee on the counter and popped her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.”
“Oh my God!” we mocked in high-pitched cries, bouncing around.
The girls found us exactly zero percent funny. Though they wanted those tickets, so they at least had the good sense to pretend. It was safe to say neither of them would follow in my footsteps with an acting career.
Courtney twirled her straight brown hair around her finger. “Maybe six? That way we can each bring two friends.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do you, like, know him?” Courtney asked.
“Kinda. He’s actually writing a single for that movie I just wrapped.”
Abby let out a breathy sigh. “You are the coolest.”
I laughed. “I appreciate that, but if you really want to thank me, you need to remind your mom of that every day.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Jenn deadpanned. “She might know Henry Alexander, but I get to decide if you two are allowed to go to the concert or not.” She jerked her chin toward the sink. “There sure are a lot of dirty dishes over there.”
They did not delay in scurrying away, and no sooner than the water turned on Zoey trotted over to join them.
The kitchen was far from large, so Jenn kept her voice low as she said, “I heard about Sebastian. God, I wish I could have been here.”
“Me too,” Brooke agreed.
They shared a knowing look as if somewhere along the way they had agreed that their mutual disdain for each other was significantly less important than their mutual disdain for Sebastian Cristobal.
“Where’s Daddy?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s digging in Mom’s closet.” She tossed up a pair of air quotes. “Finding the girls something less revealing to wear.” Jenn shrugged. “Pretty good morning, all things considered.”
Boy, was she right about that.
And I had one man to thank.
After pouring a mug of coffee—black, just the way he liked it—I headed out the door.
The morning was already warm; the sun hanging high in the sky. I crossed the driveway and walked into the barn, only to find it empty.
I walked the length of it anyway, checking each stall.
Clean. Freshly bedded. Water buckets filled. Feed buckets stacked.
I found Salty and Snickers already in the field grazing, while Beans stood at the gate—six hours too early for his next meal and seriously annoyed about it.
Devon had done the entire morning feeding alone.
I wasn’t sure about the exact specifics of his job description, but I knew with absolute certainty farm chores were not a part of it.
Helping me in the mornings was sweet enough.
Doing it all while I slept late took it to a completely different level. And suddenly the fact that my alarm hadn’t gone off wasn’t such a mystery anymore.
I stood there for a moment, a myriad of feelings creeping into my chest.
While all of it was incredibly romantic, it wasn’t the grand gesture that got me.
It wasn’t the flights, or the phone calls, or that he’d orchestrated all the people I loved appearing in my house like some kind of midnight miracle.
It was this.
The sweet nothings of mucking horse shit and taking care of animals he didn’t quite trust.
I’d spent years with Sebastian waiting for the kind of love that didn’t have to be announced. The grand declarations. The public displays. The gifts that arrived in little blue boxes.
It was always loud, visible, and somehow more about him than me.
Not that there had ever been any comparison between the two men, but the happiness I felt standing in that barn doorway, everything taken care of by a man who noticed my plate was full and quietly set about remedying that, was unmatched.
I pressed my hand to my face. It had nothing to do with tears this time and everything to do with the biggest, goofiest grin of my entire life.
Particles of hay drifted down from the loft above, revealing his location.
With quiet steps, I climbed the ladder. Though it was Devon, so I was positive he’d heard me.
He was leaning back in a rickety chair with one boot propped on the beam in front of him, phone in hand, his gaze never lifting. “Morning,” he said, calm and neutral. It was the professional version of him that I hadn’t seen much of lately.
I would have questioned the shift if I hadn’t been grinning like a fool.
“You fed the horses,” I whispered.
He tilted his head back, his dark eyes landing on me with a tangible weight that only Devon possessed. “You slept late. Someone had to.”
“You turned my alarm off.”
He didn’t even seem to care that he’d been busted. “You needed the sleep.”
“Brooke’s here.”
“I know.”
“And Zoey. And Jenn and Terry and the girls.”
“Know that, too. It made operational sense. More people in the house means more eyes. Jenn can manage your father, which frees up—”
“Stop.”
He did. Immediately.
“You told Brooke I needed normal.” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “You paid for the flights. Out of your own wallet.”
He said nothing, but his eyes widened a bit, as if he couldn’t believe I had already learned that. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen.
With measured steps, I closed the distance between us.
In the most unlike Devon way possible, he scrambled from the chair.
“Lofton.” His voice carried a warning.
Mine did too. “Devon.”
“I’m working.” He lifted his palm between us.
It only made me note his long fingers. God, I bet he was good with his hands. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Leo.”
He took a step back, then let out a mumbled curse as I countered him with one step forward.
“Look, it wasn’t a big—”
I didn’t delay, not even for a second.
Gripping the front of his T-shirt, I pressed up on my toes and sealed my mouth over his.
It wasn’t raw and needy like the fantasies I’d had of him at night as my hand drifted between my thighs.
It was brief and warm. Close-mouthed and packed with gratitude.
I’m not even sure he had time to react before it was over.
However, when I circled my arms around his waist, pressing myself against his front, he went rigid.
But he didn’t retreat, so neither did I.
“You didn’t have to do any of that.”
His throat bobbed. “I know.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“Lofton—”
“You can hide from me all you want, Devon Grant. But you just showed me your brightest color, and I have every intention of showing you mine.”
He sucked in a sharp breath as I placed one last peck on his lips and then turned away, heading for the ladder.
Thanks to Devon, I had a long day of smiles and laughter ahead of me.
Though, inevitably, night would once again fall over the farm.
And I knew all too well where to find him.