Chapter 5
JULES
S he crouched down and pulled her luggage out from its place under her bed. She had emptied the suitcases and stowed them away just hours before Maddie’s call came in. But only excitement coursed through her as she prepared to repack her bags.
Jules knew that Laurel assisted the wrangler normally. And with her now on bed rest, Maddie had explained they needed someone to help care for the ranch’s horses. What could be better than that?
Depositing the bags atop her floral quilt, Jules recalled the moment she had met the wrangler.
Floyd was a kind, patient man, a few years older than her dad.
He had come by Grey’s cottage the day Jules helped Maddie move into it and was introduced as a father figure to Grey and Brett—and an actual adoptive father to Cooper.
She could see herself working alongside him for the next few months. In fact, it even sounded enjoyable.
Much more enjoyable than sitting around an empty apartment or haunting the stables at her dad’s center.
No one particularly needed her at Graham Equestrian, not out where she could be hands on with the horses.
She was certain that she’d get roped into the business side of things with her dad like every other time she had idle time between shoots.
Turning to face her closet, excitement bubbled up in her chest. Ranch clothes, going out clothes. That’s all she would need. She could leave behind the blouses, blazers, and Graham Equestrian polos, and focus on her favorite parts of her wardrobe.
Every punchy tee was a must. She yanked the grouping off their hangers and tossed them on the bed.
Next, she needed her tanks and western style collared shirts.
Snatching up all her bootcut jeans and a variety of boots, Jules turned back to look through her skirts and dresses.
One in particular would definitely need to be packed—the rust colored, button-through dress that had mesmerized Sundance a year ago.
A flurry of butterflies bombarded her as she held the dress.
Every inch of her body remembered his touch.
His calloused hands and fit form. Even though it was unreasonable, the idea of being in his home state was causing Riley to occupy her thoughts nonstop since the call.
Even now, the familiar sensation of desire was returning, her mind drifting back to the way his mustache tickled between her legs.
She had yet to tell Maddie about what happened between them because she made a point to tell no one.
It was against her code as a traveling ranch photographer.
Visit, immerse herself rather than just sitting on the sidelines, and leave on impeccable terms. Sleeping with a cowboy at a strange hotel instead of returning to the ranch that had put her up was not very impeccable of her.
The sweet ranchers had worried about her. They had called. She returned to their property the next morning thoroughly ashamed that she had put them through that.
They had been understanding, saying that they could tell she was whiskey in a teacup. It had been a charming compliment in the midst of her self-deprecating mood, whether they meant it as charming or not.
She crossed the room to grab her favorite suede jacket off the rattan egg chair. She remembered the day her dad helped her move into the apartment; he had stood there scratching his head until finally asking if she was sure “this thing wasn’t made to go outside.”
Francine Graham had rolled her eyes and laughed at her husband.
Telling him that he wasn’t there to give decorating tips, just to lift the heavy things.
They had worked well into the night getting everything in and unpacked.
Then she, Maddie, and her parents crashed onto the new sofa and devoured copious amounts of pizza.
The idea of her family looking the way it did now would have been unimaginable back then.
Her father hovered in her mind as she zipped up her luggage. She should swing by and check on him before she left town. Heavens knew he was not one to check his phone and see that she texted about heading out again. In person would be a better way to deliver the news, to be sure he got it.
The sign for the Graham Equestrian Center greeted her, followed by the pristine white fences and perfectly rectangular pastures.
As she continued up the drive, white buildings with green roofs came into view.
Three barns total and the newest addition—the indoor arena.
At the end of it all sat a turnaround drive and impressive dark green farmhouse with a front porch that ran the width of the facade and white rocking chairs in a neat row.
She climbed the stairs to the porch and pushed open one of the large double doors. Greeted by near silence, the faint sound of a keyboard clicking drifted through the air. Her dad was in the office then, not surprising.
Rounding the corner from the entryway, she came to a stop at the office. Raising a hand, Jules gently rattled her knuckles against the open French door.
Miles Graham was a tall, slender man with jet black hair now peppered with gray whisps. And while she didn’t share those qualities, she certainly had his piercing blue eyes.
“How was the trip?” Her father looked up from the spreadsheet on his computer screen, his glasses slipping on his nose.
“It was amazing, just a beautiful country. And such a rich culture. You would have loved the woman who ran the ranch too,” she replied, taking a step into the room and sinking into a dark velvet armchair before the desk.
“I’m sure I would, honey.” He turned his attention back to his computer as a notification ding echoed from it. Brow furrowed, lips pursed, he had slipped back into work mode so quickly she had blinked and missed the man she knew.
“I just came by to let you know that I’m heading back out of town today.”
No answer.
She waited, her eyes drifting up to the wall behind her father where a gallery of family portraits hung, all related to the equine center.
There was her grandfather with the first horse he purchased, he looked about her age at the time.
Next to that was a photograph of her father as a child on his first ride.
And it continued on, one family milestone after another.
They looked happy back then.
They were happy back then.
“What was that?”
“I’m headed out for a few months,” she repeated.
“Ah, yes. Argentina. Enjoy. I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful,” he offered, glancing up from his work.
She swallowed down the protest rising in her throat. It didn’t matter if she corrected him, not really. She could be on another continent or just a few hours across the state line. He would still be here, buried in work and not concerned with her lack of presence.
“Thanks,” she replied, offering a tight smile.
The familiar urge to flee was flicking through her limbs. And it was exactly what Maddie was giving her the opportunity to do.