Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Tex
I sit in the passenger bay, the engine idling.
The air conditioning pushes out a weak stream of cool air that does little to combat the heat rising in the cab. My hands grip the steering wheel. The leather is warm, sticky against my palms.
I watch the sliding glass doors of the terminal.
It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. The airport is a beast of concrete and glass, swallowing people up and spitting them out.
Clara went in there an hour ago. Sedona went with her to help with the suitcase, to walk her to security.
The door slides open, and a figure steps out.
It’s her.
Sedona walks toward the car, small in the vastness of the parking lot.
She’s wearing her hair down today, the red curls blowing around her face. She hugs her arms around herself, even though the day is warm.
She opens the driver’s side door and slides in. She closes the door, sealing out the noise of the airport traffic.
She exhales. A long, shaky breath.
“Thanks for waiting,” she says. Her voice is quiet.
Her cheeks are pink. Not from the sun. From the emotion. From saying goodbye.
I shift in my seat. I reach over and unbuckle my seatbelt so I can turn to face her.
I open my arms.
She doesn’t hesitate. She leans over the center console and buries her face in my chest. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close and resting my chin on top of her head.
I breathe her in. Honeysuckle. Cedar. Salt.
She’s shaking slightly, so I hold her tighter.
“Are you okay?” I murmur.
She nods against my shirt. “Yeah. I just… Clara is like my sister. It’s hard to watch her go.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I know what it’s like to watch people go. To have family leave. My mom. Dad. Joey.
“At least you get to see her soon,” I say. “And New York isn’t that far.”
“Right,” she says. She pulls back. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Right. It’s not forever.”
She sniffs. She looks at me. Her eyes are red, but there is a spark of resilience in them.
“So,” she says. “Back to the ranch?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Why? Do we need to pick up supplies?”
“Nope.” I put the truck in reverse. “I know something that will cheer you up.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Tex, I’m not really in the mood for bronc riding practice.”
“Not that,” I say. “Trust me.”
I pull out of the lot and head toward the highway. I drive past the turnoff for the Carson ranch. I keep going.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“You’ll see.”
We drive for twenty minutes. The landscape changes.
The flat pastureland rolls into gentle hills, dotted with wildflowers. The sun is high, turning the grass a vibrant gold.
I turn onto a gravel road. A sign at the entrance reads: Wildflower Hollow Ranch.
“Wildflower Hollow?” Sedona asks. She sits up straighter. “I haven’t been here since high school.”
“Levi and Jasmine have done a lot of work on it,” I say.
I pull the truck up to the main house, a beautiful stone structure with a wide porch and climbing roses. Before we even get out, the front door opens.
A man steps out onto the porch.
Levi Brooks looks like he was carved out of the landscape itself. His black hair is streaked with silver, kept short and neat, and he has dark brown eyes that seem to see everything.
His jaw is strong, covered in a perpetual five o’clock shadow. He wears a plaid shirt and jeans, his hands resting on his belt.
He looks rugged. Solid.
Behind him, a woman waddles out.
Jasmine is heavily pregnant. Her belly is a perfect, round globe stretching the fabric of her maternity dress. She glows. Her dark hair is pulled back, her face radiant.
Levi reaches out a hand to help her as she comes down the steps.
“Tex Carson,” Levi says. His voice is a deep rumble. He walks over and shakes my hand. His grip is firm, callused hands grinding against my own.
“Good to see you, Levi.”
“Jasmine.” I nod to her. “You look like you’re about to pop.”
Jasmine laughs. She rests a hand on her belly. “Two more weeks. Or that’s what the doctor says. This little one has a mind of their own.”
Sedona steps up beside me.
“Levi, Jasmine,” I say. “You remember Sedona Archer.”
Levi’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Sedona. It’s been a long time. I heard you were back in town.”
“I am,” Sedona says. “Just for a bit.”
“We heard about the quarantine at your place,” Jasmine says. She sounds concerned. “We were so worried. We’re glad everything is alright.”
“It was a scare,” Sedona says. “But we’re all clear now.”
“That’s good news,” Levi says. “It’s been a rough season for everyone.”
He gestures toward the barns behind the house.
“If you’re looking for Tanner, he’s running the petting zoo today. He’s got the goats behaving for once.”
“Actually,” I say, “we were hoping to just walk around. If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Jasmine says. “I’ll come with you. I need the exercise. The doctor says walking helps.”
We start walking toward the back pasture. Levi stays on the porch, watching us go.
Jasmine walks between me and Sedona. She moves carefully, one hand on her back.
“So,” Jasmine says. “What brings you two out here?”
“Needed a break,” I say. “Thought Sedona might like to see the changes.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sedona says. She looks around at the manicured lawns and the painted fences. “You guys have done amazing work.”
“Thanks,” Jasmine says. “Levi has been working non-stop. He wants to make it a tourist destination for families. The petting zoo was his idea.”
We reach the small corral near the barn.
It’s adorable.
Pygmy goats hop on a wooden jungle gym. A pot-bellied pig snores in a patch of sunlight. A few alpacas chew grass, watching us with disdain.
Sedona’s face lights up.
“Oh, my god,” she breathes. “Look at the babies.”
She walks over to the fence. A tiny black kid goat trots over, bleating for attention. Sedona reaches through the rails and scratches its head.
I stand back and watch her.
She’s in her element. Her sadness from the airport seems to melt away. She smiles, a real, genuine smile that reaches her eyes.
Jasmine stands next to me. She fans herself with her hand.
“It’s hot today,” she says.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask. “There’s a bench over there.”
“I’m okay,” she says. “I like watching her. She’s good with animals.”
“She’s a vet,” I say. “Best in the county.”
“I heard,” Jasmine says. She looks at me sideways. “You look at her differently, Tex.”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“Like she hung the moon,” she says simply.
I look down at my boots and scuff the dirt.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
“It usually is.” She laughs. She groans slightly, shifting her weight. “But life is short. You gotta grab the happiness while it’s standing right in front of you.”
She pauses.
“Levi and I… we had our bumps. But looking back, I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time being scared.”
I look at Sedona. She’s letting the alpaca sniff her hair. She giggles, dodging its nose.
I watch the way her body moves. The curve of her hip. The slope of her neck. And then, unbidden, the image shifts in my mind.
I imagine her standing there, but different.
I imagine Sedona with a belly like Jasmine’s. Round and swollen. Carrying a child.
My child.
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut.
My throat goes dry. My blood heats up. I imagine my hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick. I imagine her skin stretched tight, glowing with life.
The image is so powerful, so visceral, that I have to look away.
I clear my throat.
“You okay, Tex?” Jasmine asks.
“Fine,” I say. My voice is rough. “Just… thirsty.”
We spend an hour at the petting zoo. Sedona feeds the goats. She checks the pig’s hooves, just out of habit. She laughs when a llama tries to steal her hair tie.
She looks happy.
Finally, a ranch hand comes over with a tray of glasses filled with fresh orange juice.
“Refreshments,” he says.
Sedona takes a glass and drinks deeply.
“Thank you,” she says.
I down mine in one gulp. It’s cold and sweet.
We walk back to the house. Levi’s waiting for us.
“Did you enjoy the tour?” he asks.
“It was wonderful,” Sedona says. “Thank you so much for letting us intrude.”
“Any time,” Levi says. He puts his arm around Jasmine. “We’re just glad you’re safe.”
I pull out my wallet. I slide a fifty-dollar bill into Levi’s hand.
“For the zoo,” I say.
“Tex, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” I say. “Buy something for the baby.”
Levi smiles. He pockets the bill. “Thanks, brother. We’ll see you at the rodeo?”
“You bet,” I say. “Good luck with the due date.”
“Pray for us,” Jasmine laughs. She waves as we walk to the truck.
We climb back in. I start the engine.
As we drive away, Sedona leans back in the seat. She’s giddy. She hums a little tune under her breath.
“Thank you, Tex,” she says.
I glance at her. “For what?”
“For this.” She gestures out the window. “For making me forget about the airport. For making me laugh.”
She looks at me. Her eyes are soft.
“I like seeing you happy,” I say. I grip the wheel tighter. “I like hearing you laugh.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes. The tension in the cab shifts. It’s not awkward. It’s heavy. Charged.
I pull over onto a dirt turnout on the side of the road and put the truck in park.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I turn to face her.
I don’t answer with words.
I reach over and cup the back of her neck with my hand. My fingers tangle in her hair as I pull her toward me.
Our lips meet. I taste the orange juice on her tongue. I taste the sweetness of her.
She gasps against my mouth. Her hands come up, fisting in the front of my shirt.
I angle my head, deepening the kiss. I nip at her bottom lip. She moans, a low sound in the back of her throat.
My heart is racing. It pounds against my ribs. My blood is on fire.
I want to drag her across the seat. I want to lay her down on the bench. I want to make that image in my head a reality.
But I force myself to pull back.
We’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are dilated.
“Wow,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice is wrecked. “Wow.”
I lean my forehead against hers.
“What is your plan?” I ask. “For today? What do you have on your itinerary?” I need to know. I need to know how much time I have with her.
She blinks. She seems to remember where we are.
“I have a meeting,” she says. “With Dr. Morales. At the clinic.”
“Now?”
“Around noon.”
I look at my watch. It’s 11:30.
“We have about half an hour still,” I say.
She looks at me. She bites her lip.
“What is your plan?” she asks, throwing my question back at me.
I grin. It’s a wolfish grin.
“My plan,” I say, “is to do that again.”
I drag her by the neck again and kiss her hard. I pour everything into it.
The years of longing. The jealousy. The love. The image of her round and glowing.
She kisses me back. Her nails rake across my scalp.
We’re lost in each other. The world outside disappears.
Until a noise breaks through the haze. Thundering hooves.
I break the kiss and look out the window.
A horse gallops past the truck, kicking up dust. The rider is hunched low over the mane, wearing a blue hat.
It’s Walker. He lives next to Levi’s ranch. He waves a hand as he passes, not slowing down.
The dust settles, and I look back at Sedona.
Her hair is a mess. Her shirt is askew. She looks thoroughly kissed.
My heart swells.
I run a thumb over her cheek.
“So,” I say. “Do you want to go back to the clinic? Or…”
I’m giving her an out. I am giving her a choice.
She looks at the clock on the dashboard. Then she looks back at me.
A slow smile spreads across her face. It’s mischievous. It’s sexy as hell.
“I pick or,” she says.
I laugh, a full-bellied laugh. It feels good.
“Or it is,” I say.
I shift the truck back into drive and pull onto the road.
But I don’t head toward the clinic. And I don’t head toward the ranch.
I head toward the creek. The spot where the willows hang low, and the water runs cool.
I have thirty minutes, and I plan to make them count.
I reach over and take her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. She squeezes back.
She’s mine… at least for now.