Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The Ranch
An hour later, I came out of my bedroom and listened for sounds of movement.
But when I didn’t hear anything, I called out, “Bowman?”
Nothing.
I called his name again, but the house was silent.
“Great,” I muttered.
Now I was alone in my childhood home with no one to talk to, which meant I had nothing but my own mind to occupy myself.
I went downstairs and into the kitchen. I pulled out mixing bowls and muffin tins, and then I set the temperature on the oven.
An array of aprons hung on the cast iron hooks by the pantry door. Muddy’s was well-worn and splattered with tomato sauce, grease, and other ingredients I couldn’t decipher.
Hadley had an apron, too, but I didn’t reach for hers, or for Muddy’s.
Instead, I took the blue and white striped apron from its resting place and held it in my hands. I brought it to my nose, but the scent of my mother was long gone.
Swallowing a bout of tears I’d never let myself shed, I thrust the apron over my head and tied it behind my back.
As I set the timer, the doorbell rang. I opened the front door and my eyes widened at the tall, blond man wearing a cowboy hat. “You.”
“Me,” Gideon agreed with a rueful smile. He held up a pie. “My mom wanted me to bring this over.”
I stepped back and waved him inside.
Gideon came in and I closed the door.
He turned to look at me. Without a word, he touched my cheek. “Flour.”
“Baking.” I hastily scrubbed my cheek, wishing I’d thought to look in a mirror.
“You look good, Salem,” Gideon said as he followed me into the kitchen.
“Do I?”
“You know you do.” Gideon laughed as he set the pie down onto the counter. “Wasn’t sure anyone was home. Probably should’ve called to find out, but . . .”
“We’re just a hop, skip and a jump over, huh?”
“Something like that.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
I raised my brows. “You didn’t think I’d come home, even with Dad in the hospital?”
“Nah, you’re not that callous, but still. You’d rather be anywhere else, wouldn’t you?”
“You know me well,” I quipped.
“I did. Once.” His smile slipped and the corners of his eyes turned down ever so slightly. “How’s he doing?”
I blew out a breath of air, prepared to give a perfunctory answer, when the front door opened and a moment later, Bowman came inside.
He looked at Gideon and his amiable expression shuttered.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hi,” Bowman said, his eyes still on Gideon.
“Bowman, this is Gideon. His family owns Dark Timber Ranch on the other side of the valley,” I explained. “Gideon, this is Cas Bowman. He’s Hadley’s fiancé’s best friend.”
Bowman held out his hand to Gideon.
Gideon stared at it for a moment, and then took it. The two of them shook hands, but it was clear the both of them were attempting to out squeeze the other one.
“I didn’t catch what it is you do,” Gideon said, refusing to release Bowman’s hand.
“I’m a professional bull rider,” Bowman replied.
“No kidding,” Gideon murmured. “So, you only last eight seconds.”
Bowman’s smile was feral. “I can last a hell of a lot longer than eight seconds.”
“Ooookay,” I interrupted, pressing my body to where their hands were clasped, forcing them to drop their grip on one another.
I grabbed Gideon’s elbow and tried to drag him toward the front door, but he was six feet tall and he had no intention of moving.
Gideon and Bowman continued to stare each other down.
“Tell your mother thank you for the pie.” I peered up at Gideon and batted my lashes. “And tell your siblings hi for me.”
He looked down at me and smiled. “You should come over for dinner one night. She’d love to catch up.”
“Right, will do.” I tugged on his arm again, but this time he let me lead him. He stepped out onto the porch and I waved at him before closing the door.
The oven timer dinged and I rushed back to the kitchen, but Bowman was already opening the oven door and pulling out the muffin tins with a pair of singed red oven mitts.
He set them on the stove to cool, and then closed the oven door.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded. “I thought I’d have to get the water hose and turn it on the both of you.”
“What the hell was that?” His gray eyes glittered like gunmetal. “I come in and find him eye-fucking you in the kitchen.”
“So what?” I snapped. “If he wants to eye-fuck me, he can eye-fuck me.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Do not play games with me, Powell.”
“I’ll play whatever games I want to play with you, Caspian. And for the record, I wasn’t playing any fucking games.”
“You guys have history.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, but said nothing.
“Don’t you?” he pressed.
“Where were you?” I asked instead.
He shook his head. “Answer me.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“So, you’re going to go to dinner and catch up?”
I grinned, but it was an evil, femme fatale, I’ve-got-you-clocked, kind of smile. “Jealous?”
“I thought it was fairly obvious. And don’t smile at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like if I gave you a knife, you’d gladly carve out my heart and serve it on a platter.”
“Ah, you’re afraid of me. I love this,” I boasted.
His gaze narrowed. “Are. You. Going. To. Dinner?”
“None. Of. Your. Business.”
He stalked toward me and my pulse drummed in the side of my neck. Bowman gripped my upper arms. “You make me crazy.”
“I make you feel alive,” I countered.
His grip tightened and his head bent toward mine . . .
And then the front door opened.
Bowman dropped his hands like he’d touched hot metal.
“Salem?” Hadley called.
“In here,” I croaked out.
Hadley, Muddy, and Declan came into the kitchen. Bowman was still standing close to me, but it no longer looked like he was about to whisk the papers off the table and have his way with me.
Sadly.
Hadley frowned, her gaze pinging from me to Bowman and back to me. “You okay? You’re flushed.”
“Muffins,” I said, pointing to the oven.
Muddy arched a brow and then looked at me. “Do you have my keys?”
I shook my head and gestured to Bowman.
“You’ve got my keys?” she asked him.
“Yes.” Bowman nodded.
“Well, can I have them back, please?” she asked, a slow smile curving her lips.
“Oh, right.” Bowman dug into his pocket and fished out her keys. He placed them in her outstretched palm.
Declan looked at the pie. “Did you bake that, too?”
I cleared my throat. “Gideon brought it over.”
“Gideon,” Hadley repeated, her eyes once again bouncing between me and Bowman.
“Nice boy, Gideon,” Muddy murmured. “Always thought he and Salem made a cute couple.”
I inwardly groaned.
Yep. Bowman’s jaw was back to looking like he could chew granite.
“Well, I’m grabbing a bag, and then I’m heading back to the hospital,” Muddy said.
“They’re letting you stay in Dad’s room?” I asked. “Did you play the donation card?”
“Tried that,” Muddy said. “But it didn’t work. I’m staying in one of the on-call rooms. It’s the best they can do. But I’ll be right there in case anything . . . changes.”
Muddy turned and went upstairs.
“Let me show you around Elk Ridge,” Declan said to Bowman.
“I’ve already had a look around,” Bowman replied.
“Fine. Then let’s go have a chat. And then we can bring in the luggage.”
“Oh, yay,” Bowman drawled. “A chat.”
Declan brushed a kiss to Hadley’s forehead, and then he and Bowman left. Bowman didn’t even look at me.
Hadley went to the cabinet and grabbed a plate. Then she began fishing the warm muffins from the tin and putting them on the plate.
“Let’s go,” she stated.
“Where?”
“We’re going outside and we’re having a talk.”
“Goody,” I said in the same dry tone Bowman had used.
Her gaze sharpened. “We’ll be talking about Bowman, too.”
I untied the apron and placed it back on the hook. Muddy came down the stairs, an overnight bag in hand.
“That was fast,” I said.
“I always have a bag packed and ready to go.”
“You have a phone charger?” Hadley asked.
“Yep.” Muddy nodded. She quickly hugged Hadley, and then me. “Hold down the fort. I’ll call later tonight.”
She swept out the door in a flurry of energy. Most women half her age didn’t possess it.
“I want to be her when I grow up,” I murmured.
“Join the club,” Hadley remarked.
We took the muffins to the back porch and Hadley settled into a chair with a deep seat. “In a few months, I’ll need help being pulled out of this thing.”
It was just another reminder that her life had taken a turn. A turn away from me. I was happy for her, but Hadley was my twin. My best friend.
But even I knew that when you chose someone and built a life with them, that bond was strong, too. Stronger, even. She’d chosen Declan to be her family. She’d been stuck with me.
“I used the last of the huckleberries,” I said. “Hope Muddy doesn’t mind.”
“Not if we go out and pick a few gallons more,” Hadley said, taking bite. She moaned. “Dear God, what have you done?”
I sniggered. “Lemon and huckleberry. Made with olive oil instead of butter.”
“This just became my new pregnancy craving.”
It was afternoon and the sun was high in the sky. But it was the perfect temperature, and the air was clear. Notably absent were the smells of Manhattan. No aroma of urine or hotdogs. No scent of BO while shoved into someone’s armpit on the subway.
“You didn’t call me back,” she said.
I blinked. “I completely forgot.”
“Understandable. But we have a lot to talk about.” She reached for another muffin. “Let’s start with Dad’s girlfriend.”
“Let’s start with how the whole town knows about her and apparently all agreed not to tell me,” I snarked.
“Whole town? Hardly the whole town,” Hadley said.
“Gracie knew. And she couldn’t get away from me fast enough when I asked her about it. Same with Lucy. So don’t deny it.”
“Fine. We all knew how you’d react. Declan was rooting for you, though. Now he owes me five bucks.”
“Five bucks? That was all he bet?”
“He wanted to bet more, but I told him you were my twin and I know you.” She quirked a grin, but then it slipped. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I found out a few months ago.”
When I didn’t say anything, she went on, “Now you.”
“Now me what?”
“Now you apologize for your reaction.”
“I will not,” I scoffed. “I was blindsided. And already uneasy about coming home. You know how hard it is for me to be here. I was ambushed, Hadley.”
She blanched and her skin drained of color. “Salem—”
“No, listen. I get it. Mount St. Salem, right? I blow up. I have big emotions. And they make people uncomfortable.”
“Your emotions don’t make people uncomfortable. How you choose to express yourself does.”
“You still should’ve told me,” I reiterated.
“When?”
“Any time between you finding out and Dad’s accident.”
Hadley stared at me, and then her expression softened. “Fair.”
“You kept it from me. Deliberately. Admit it.”
“I admit it. I’m sorry, Salem. Truly.”
And just like that, my anger washed away like a stick in a river.
I nodded in tacit forgiveness.
“She’s kind of great,” Hadley said. “Jane.”
“I don’t want to hear about her.”
“Okay.” She paused. “But she’s going to be around. She’s going to be here to help Dad recover when he gets out of the hospital. And she’s coming to the wedding. So you’d better get used to it.”
I appreciated that Hadley spoke with such assurance that Dad would get well and come home. I was the glass-half-empty type. Still, I wouldn’t say what I was thinking.
“Now onto other things. What’s going on with you and Bowman?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Nothing,” I insisted.
“You two looked like you were in the middle of a fight when we came in.”
“Gideon . . . took him by surprise.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” Hadley said. “You’ve been home five seconds and he found out you were here.”
“He brought a pie from his mom,” I explained. “That’s it.”
“You remember back in high school when we did Footloose and Gideon punched Adam and he went through the set piece?”
“Vaguely.”
“Gideon never got over you,” she said. “And now that Bowman is in the picture, I’m worried we’re going to have another incident.”
“Bowman isn’t in the picture, so there won’t be another incident,” I assured her. “Now, I can’t guarantee there won’t be another Unsinkable Molly Brown situation . . .”
“I can’t believe they let you do the musical the next year after all the drama you caused.”
“Honey, do you really think the musical was the reason they sold out of tickets?” I grinned.
“I’m glad you’re home, Salem. This town can use some spice.”