Chapter 20 #2
I tack around the back of the stables. The track here is less well-worn, a little bumpier. Moonlight casts a silver glow on the trees that line the property.
‘Firstly, we rarely disagree.’ I shrug. ‘Secondly, Cole has been learning to run this place his whole life. He was always the one who wanted it, who made it his life’s ambition.’
‘You didn’t want that for yourself?’
I consider that a few moments. ‘For a long time, I thought of this place as a millstone. I had a life I wanted to lead: out there.’ I nod toward the forest, to the world beyond Goodnight and Coyote Creek Ranch.
‘But the more time I spent away, the more it pulled at me. Each visit back felt like a real homecoming. Like I was suddenly where I needed to be. I don’t want to run the ranch though.
I’m happy to help out, but it’s Cole’s thing. ’
‘What will you do?’
My grip tightens on the wheel. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You must have thought about it.’
‘Honestly?’ I glance across at her. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Beau.’ Her voice is soft, gentle. Like she’s about to be the bearer of bad news.
‘I know what it’s like to walk away from your dreams, but if nothing else, I’m proof that you can do it.
When the time is right, you’ll give up bull riding, and you’ll find a new dream.
Something else you love, that you’re great at. ’
I roll my shoulders in an imitation of a shrug, then move the car off the track, cutting across a field, down toward the creek. This part of the property is as familiar to me as anything else on earth ever could be. I follow the curves of the banks without answering.
‘I heard a rumor you’ve been offered a reporting job,’ she says, voice soft and throaty.
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Some journalist I got talking to the other night mentioned it.’ She hesitates. ‘Is it true?’
I nod slowly.
‘But you said no?’
‘I’m not ready to think about what comes next.’
‘But wouldn’t that be a way to have your cake and eat it too? You’d be a part of the world still, even when you’re not riding.’
I pull the car to a stop and angle my face to her, keeping my expression neutral. ‘You know how you don’t go to the ballet anymore? Because it’s too hard to see other people doing what you can’t?’
Her features soften into a mask of sympathy.
‘I reckon I’ll probably feel the same.’
She puts a hand on my thigh, her fingers immediately igniting my blood, turning it to lava. ‘That’s fair enough.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ I break our contact and push out of the car, striding around to her door to open it. But she beats me to it, moving almost at the same time I do, stepping out quickly and coming to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
‘You’ll work it out,’ she says simply, and somehow, it’s just exactly the right thing to say.
She’s not telling me what I should do, what I could do, but rather putting her faith in me, and my heart warms in response.
For a second, I feel like she’s simply on my side.
Like she’s someone who wants the best for me, and it makes my body lift with the sense that I could do just about anything.
‘Now, where the heck are we?’ she asks, looking at the surrounds.
‘Well, Bailey James, this here’s the spot I was telling you about.
’ I reach and latch one of my hands to hers, weaving our fingers together and drawing her to the back of my truck.
I pull out a picnic rug and bring it with us, toward the gently sloping grass at the edge of the creek.
I toss the rug down, but have to drop her hand to get it to sit properly.
Once it’s all laid out, I gesture for her to take a seat.
When she does so, it’s with a back that’s ramrod straight, legs that are crossed, hands fidgeting in her lap.
‘Chill out,’ I say on a husky laugh. ‘It’s just you and me.’
She tilts her face to mine and I have to work overtime on keeping my features relaxed, my smile in place, because in that moment the sheer beauty of her features almost knocks me sideways.
I can’t help but reach out and touch her cheek, brushing away an imaginary clump of hair.
In the moonlight, her eyes are a swirling, mesmerising shade, her lashes forming deep shadows on her cheek.
I drop my hand to the blanket between us, my throat tightening as I swallow, my mouth feeling as dry as a desert.
‘So this is your creek, huh?’ she says, the words throaty in the still evening air.
I wrench my gaze away, to the forest across from us. ‘That, over there—’ I nod toward the hook in the river. ‘That’s where I’m gonna build my place.’
Her eyes trace the line of the trees, all bunched together in the distance.
‘What do you think?’ It shouldn’t matter, but I hold my breath, waiting for her to speak. A night bird flies overhead, silent but for the slow, lazy flapping of its enormous wings. Bailey glances up, watching it travel, a small frown on her face, before her gaze slips back to mine.
‘I think it’s perfect.’ She lifts a hand to my chest and holds it there, her fingers bunching in the fabric. ‘I love it.’
And dammit if my heart doesn’t soar at those words, at the way I can hear her meaning them, at the way I can tell that, yeah, she really does love it here.
I swoop my head down, kissing her as though she is the beginning and end of my needs and wants, as though this, right here, is all I live for.
And maybe, just in this moment, that’s God’s honest truth.