Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
IZZY
MOM: Your father and I thought we could visit your new ranch this weekend. Tomorrow evening?
IZZY: That would be nice. Madison is back from camp. She’ll be happy to see you.
MOM: We have something to talk to you about too.
The rumble of tires on the driveway snaps me out of my thoughts of Dylan.
Thank God I’ve had time to shower and dress and make myself look presentable since the lake, even if I’ve wasted a lot of that time reliving the way Dylan touched me, kissed me.
I finish tying my hair, slip on my boots, and rush out of my trailer in time for the door of Grandpa Joe’s blue truck to fly open and Madison to rush at me, backpack bouncing against her shoulders, arms outstretched.
Her wide grin matches my own. A rush of love hits me at the same time as my daughter.
I scoop her into my arms, spinning her around, and when she laughs, I swear it’s the best sound in the world.
Nothing compares to this. No matter the mistakes I’ve made in the past, no matter how uncertain my future, this perfect human is my anchor.
She’s my reason for everything. I press a kiss to her blonde curls and breathe in the smell of her—wind and outdoors, and the fruity scent of the pink shampoo she loves.
The second her feet hit the ground, she’s wriggling out of my arms. “Mom! Look what I got.”
She tugs at the tee she’s wearing. It’s dark gray and huge—easily a man’s large, drowning her small frame and skimming her knees. Bold block letters stretch across the front, accompanied by a brooding face staring moodily into the distance.
“Dad gave it to me! It’s from his last tour.”
Something sharp and complicated tugs in my chest. Of course Hooper would give her a tee that’s way too big.
Of course he wouldn’t actually think to give her a tee in her size, instead of just throwing one of his leftover merch pieces at her.
And of course Madison thinks it’s the best gift in the world.
I push the feeling away, keeping my smile fixed in place.
The driver’s door opens and I glance over, expecting to see Hooper’s dad. But instead, stepping toward me is someone far too skinny, far too smug, and far too young to be Grandpa Joe.
“Only the best for my princess,” Hooper says, flashing me that charming smile—the one that makes women fall at his feet wherever he goes. The same smile that once convinced me running away to Nashville to get married would be an adventure.
The one I’m now completely immune to.
He holds up another oversized shirt. “Got you one too, Iz.”
“Hooper, hi.” I bite out the greeting, forcing my hands to my sides.
If Flic’s assessment of me is correct—if I do look like I’m about to kill someone with a pitchfork—then the reason is standing before me in skinny jeans.
What the hell do women see in this man? What did I?
His hair is down to his shoulders, hanging limp like it hasn’t been washed for a week. His skin is pasty and he’s rake-thin.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but a whisper of hostility sneaks in.
“Flying visit.” His smile falters a little, like he’s remembering his charm won’t work on me. “I was missing my princess, so I swung by the camp to see Mad and offered to drive her here.”
Missing her so much you haven’t called for three months? I swallow the words because this isn’t about me. This is about Madison. She’s already bouncing on her feet, excitement radiating from every inch of her. “Mom, Dad’s taking me out for burgers tomorrow night! The best ones in Denver.”
Disappointment slices through me at Madison’s words.
During the summer months, with Mad at camp, these weekends are all I have with her.
Without Hooper’s parents and the land they bought out by Granite Lake five years ago, moving away from the same neighborhood as my parents to run summer camps for kids and winter hiking retreats, I don’t know how I’d manage.
The summers without her are only bearable because I know how much Mad loves spending time with her paternal grandparents and being part of camp life.
And now Hooper is swooping in, doing whatever he wants without a single thought for anyone else and their plans.
I think of my mom’s message just now. Their visit tomorrow night.
A weight sinks inside me as I wonder what my parents want to talk to me about, already sensing I won’t like it.
Without Madison with us, there’ll be nothing to distract my parents from sharing their thoughts on all the ways I could be improving my life.
But I force myself to smile, trying to match Madison’s excitement as I remind myself that some attention from him will be good for Mad. Even though he doesn’t deserve it, she adores him. “That sounds fun,” I say.
“Dad says I can get a milkshake and fries, and a brownie for dessert.”
Of course he did.
I keep my voice light. “Sounds like a lot of sugar.”
Hooper laughs. “She deserves spoiling. Live a little, Iz. Your mom used to be so much fun, Mad.”
“One of us had to grow up,” I throw back, hating myself for falling straight into the groove of a fight that feels like it’s been ongoing since the day Madison was born.
I’m grateful when the back door of the ranch swings open and Dylan appears, striding toward us.
He’s fresh from the shower, dark hair still damp.
He’s wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms. With the tan on his face and his work gloves tucked into the pocket of his jeans, he looks every bit the rancher.
My pulse stutters at the sight of him. This man is so hot!
All I can think about is what we did by the lake this afternoon—what Dylan did—and how much I want to pick up where we left off.
“Hey, Mad,” he calls out, stepping toward us until he’s beside me. Close enough that I catch the intoxicating scent of his leather and cedarwood aftershave.
“Dylan!” Mad rushes to him, wrapping her arms around his legs. From the way Dylan’s eyes widen, he’s as surprised as I am by the hug. But then he smiles and returns the gesture.
“Good to see you, Mad.”
Then she’s spinning back to us, dancing on feet that can’t stay still. “Dad, this is Dylan. He bought the horses from Grandpa Bill. Remember I told you about Fury—Dylan’s horse. He was going to be killed, but Dylan saved him. And he saved Moonlight’s foal. I called him Quicksilver.”
“That was all your mom, Mad,” Dylan cuts in before extending a hand to Hooper. “Dylan Sullivan.”
Hooper stares at the offered hand for a second too long before shaking it. “Hooper Greene.” Hooper is already smiling, waiting for Dylan to make the connection to the famous country singer. I love it that he doesn’t.
Then Hooper tilts his head. “Sullivan… Football Sullivan? Don’t you play for the Stormhawks with your brothers?”
I wonder if I imagine the way Dylan’s shoulders tense at the mention of football. The question leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, but Dylan simply states, “I’m retired.”
“Oh yeah. Think I heard about that. So it’s horses now. That’s one hell of a career change,” Hooper says, laughing like he’s made the funniest joke.
There’s a pause. I’m aware of Madison looking between us, but my eyes fix on Dylan. He makes a sound low in his throat, something close to a laugh. His eyes flick to mine, amusement dancing in them. And suddenly, I know exactly what he’s thinking.
This guy. This is the guy you married?
This is the kind of man who never put his mouth on your—
A blush flares up my neck and I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up, biting out of me. I sense Dylan’s shoulders shake from beside me and it only makes me laugh harder.
“What’s funny?” Madison asks, wanting in on the joke.
“It’s nothing,” I splutter. “We should probably get inside.”
Madison tilts her head. “Mom, you look different.”
I make a show of looking down at my jeans and the dry tank top I just threw on. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” she says, brow furrowing. “You look less grumpy.”
Dylan barks out another laugh.
“Wow, what a compliment.” I press a hand to my chest in mock offense.
Hooper smirks, arms crossing over his chest. “She’s not wrong. You do look… different.” His eyes flick between me and Dylan like he’s making the connection.
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me—I look less like I want to kill someone with a pitchfork, right?”
Madison nods eagerly. “Yeah! That’s it!”
Dylan is full-on smiling now, and I shoot him a glare.
“I’m getting that a lot,” I mutter.
Dylan leans in, breath hot on my neck as he speaks so quietly only I can hear. “Wonder why that is, Brooks.”
I don’t dignify that with an answer, but there’s nothing I can do to avoid the heat burning beneath my skin.
“Can’t I just be happy to see my daughter?” I ask.
From across the driveway, a horse whinnies and it’s enough to bring us all back to this moment.
“I’d better get going,” Dylan says. “Good to meet you, Hooper.” He starts to stride away and I really love that Dylan didn’t mention Hooper’s fame.
Didn’t even let on he knew who he was. It’s the kind of thing that will annoy the hell out of Hooper.
But then, unexpectedly, he stops and turns.
“Hey, Mad, do you wanna come meet Quicksilver?” Dylan asks.
“Yes!” Mad jumps in the air, throwing a wave back to Hooper.
“Bye, Dad,” she calls, already skipping toward the paddock, Dylan keeping pace beside her.
She says something to him and he laughs.
I want to follow, to drink up every second of Mad’s time here, but then Hooper opens his mouth and it stops me in my tracks.
“Bye, princess. Hopefully see you tomorrow.”
Heat streaks through me and I round on him. “Hopefully?” I say quietly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks confused for a moment. “Nothing. I just meant—”