Chapter 12 Taylor
TAYLOR
Last night at the bookshop made me feel closer to Roan than I have to anyone in a long, long time.
I never thought I’d see the big, grumpy farmer open his heart and let me see why he was hurting. But now that he’s trusted me with his pain, I know I would do anything to take it away and replace it with all the happiness he deserves.
And it makes me feel a little better that he doesn’t think Starhoof sounds terrible. That won’t put it in the hands of a million kids like I hoped, but it’s something.
Before bed last night, I put in a big order for the shop. Maybe it won’t be splashed all over the world, but that book will sit front and center of the display in my little corner of it. And if even just one or two kids get to read it here in town, I’ll feel like at least I brought it to someone.
If I hadn’t talked to Roan about it, I doubt I would have done more than purchase a copy for myself and tuck it away someplace. But he’s right, if I believe in the book, I should be happy to see it in print.
When I woke up this morning, I was still smiling at what a nice time we had when Meg joined us for dinner last night, and I couldn’t wait to see the two of them again today.
But now, as I stand at the shop entrance, waiting for Roan to pick me up as the sun begins to rise over Angel Mountain, I start feeling nervous.
I’ve seen his dad and brother through the window here and there, but I’ve never actually spoken with them. And I know the family has been growing trees on Angel Mountain for generations.
What will they think of him bringing a city girl home? Did his mom want to meet me because she’s interested or because she’s worried?
I smooth my hair down and hope that I dressed okay. I put on my newest pair of jeans and the nicest sweater I own. I don’t normally wear makeup, but I even put on a little lip gloss before coming downstairs.
Thankfully, Roan’s truck pulls up before I can freak myself out any more, and he and Meg hop out, all smiles.
“You look very pretty,” Meg says seriously, looking me up and down.
“It’s nice to have a day when I’m not cleaning and moving things,” I say with a smile. “Are you excited for the Mingle?”
“Definitely,” she tells me. “We can go for a ride in a carriage.”
Her eyes are all dreamy and I can’t help pulling her into a half hug.
“I’m so glad you guys are taking me with you,” I tell her.
“But first we have a massive breakfast,” she tells me, leading me to the truck.
“Hey.” Roan gives me his usual greeting, his voice going a little husky as he opens the door for us.
Meg scrambles in, and I’m left standing just a few inches from Roan, looking up into his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Hey,” I murmur back.
“Come on, Taylor,” Meg says, smiling and patting the seat beside her.
I scramble in and we put on our seatbelts as Roan heads over to the driver’s side. It’s sort of awesome that his old truck has a bench seat. I like sitting side by side with the two of them.
And Meg is smiling ear to ear. I guess she doesn’t mind being sandwiched between two grownups who adore her.
“I finished the book,” she tells me as Roan finishes buckling up and pulls away from the curb. “It was really good. I think those kids are right.”
“Very nice,” I tell her. “I liked it too, so we’ll order some copies for the shop. And I’ve got one more coming that I’d love you to check out.”
“You’ll read it too?” she asks.
“I’ve read it already,” I tell her. “But yes, I’ll read it again with you.”
“Is it a series?” Meg asks.
“Nope,” I tell her. “Just one book. At least so far.”
Roan glances at me over her head like he knows which book it’s going to be, and I nod once.
He gets this pleased look on his handsome face, and I feel a rush of pride that he likes that I want to share the book with Meg.
“Can we have the radio?” Meg asks her dad politely.
“Of course,” he tells her. “You pick the station.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes as she leans forward to turn it on.
“There’s only really one station that works up the mountain,” he explains.
Bing Crosby’s voice fills the car, and Meg joins him, singing “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” at the top of her lungs. Her voice is pretty good, especially for a kid. It makes me smile to hear it.
“Come on, Dad,” she says.
But he shakes his head and I’m not surprised. I doubt I’ll ever hear Roan Connelly singing. But I don’t mind a bit. I’ll take him just as he is.
He glances at me again, like he can hear my thoughts, and I feel my cheeks heat.
As he turns onto the road that takes us up the mountain, lacy snowflakes begin to drift down and I almost wonder if all of this is just a happy dream.
“The farm is on the east side of the mountain,” Meg informs me. “That means we get the rising sun. It’s good for trees.”
“That sounds beautiful,” I tell her. “What’s on the west side?”
“Mostly houses,” Roan replies when Meg shrugs. “But there are still a couple of farm properties and some open space. The south side is all the super-fancy houses and the lodge, which is basically an old-fashioned resort.”
“And then there’s the park,” Meg says with a big smile. “You can ride horses there.”
“Yes,” Roan says. “The whole north side of Angel Mountain and down into the valley below are part of the state park. It’s protected land with trails. And Meg is right, you can take horses on them. It’s beautiful, though it can be dangerous when there’s too much snow, right, Meg?”
“Right,” she agrees. “I can’t go there by myself.”
“Not yet,” he says. “But we go together when we can.”
“You guys are never bored, are you?” I ask, feeling sort of amazed at what a cool setup they have up here.
When I lived in the city, I never would have believed life in the mountains could be anything but boring for a smart kid like Meg.
Instead, it seems like she has everything she could want—a farm, unspoiled woods, a busy little town, and a beautiful library.
“Never,” Meg says, looking sort of surprised that I would suggest it. “I have lots of books.”
“You’re a girl after my own heart,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.
A lot of the women I know have always longed for babies and children. I guess I’ve always been so focused on work that I didn’t often let myself dwell on wishing for a family.
But Meg tugs at my heart in a way that makes me wonder about my life and where it’s going.
I can’t believe her own mother could just walk away. I get it that she wasn’t ready to be a wife and mom on a farm, but of all the things Roan shared last night, the one I can’t get my head around is that Erica doesn’t visit with Meg or call her.
If Meg were my kid, I’d never let her go.
She leans her head on my shoulder and I close my eyes for just a second, pretending that all this is real, that this is our family.
When I open them again, Roan glances over at me, a thoughtful expression on his face as he slides his eyes back to the road in front of him.
I know I’m getting ahead of myself, maybe because I don’t have a lot of relationship experience. Being sentimental, especially with his kid, is exactly the kind of thing that will probably scare him away, if my friends’ talk about men is anything to go by.
But when I look over at him, there’s the ghost of a smile in the corner of his mouth, and his blue eyes are warm and kind.
Tears burn my eyes for a second, and I turn away to watch the snowy mountain blur past so he doesn’t see.
On the radio, Mariah Carey starts singing “All I Want for Christmas,” and Meg sits up straight again to start belting it out.
Roan chuckles, and I find myself smiling too, and feeling more settled.
A few minutes later, we ease around a slow curve and a hillside of snow-frosted evergreens comes into view.
“That’s our farm,” Meg says.
“Oh wow,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
“I like it best with snow,” Meg agrees.
“It looks like a Christmas card,” I say, nodding.
“That’s what Grandma says,” she laughs.
We continue around the mountain until we reach a gravel driveway between two big concrete orbs and Roan pulls onto it.
“This is the way to the house,” he explains as the truck bumps down a tunnel of bare-branched oaks toward a white farmhouse with black shutters. “There’s a separate entrance for customers.”
“It’s so beautiful back here,” I say. “But you’re actually not too far from town.”
“It’s great, right?” he says, looking pleased.
“That’s our house,” Meg says, pointing to the white farmhouse. “It used to be Grandma and Grandpa’s house, but they moved to one-floor-living.”
“Dad had a rancher built,” Roan explains.
“Grandma has…” Meg pauses, her brow furrowing as she tries to think of what her grandmother has.
“Rheumatoid arthritis,” Roan says gently. “She gets around just fine, but Dad wanted to make things more comfortable for her.”
He doesn’t elaborate, but I seem to remember that being a condition that can worsen over time. My own grandmother’s friend Wanda has it, and she uses a walker sometimes when she has a flare-up.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. “But it’s great that your dad could have a house built.”
“He would do anything for her,” Roan says fondly. “We all would. Right, Meg?”
“Right,” Meg agrees firmly. “Grandma’s the best.”
The driveway curves after the farmhouse and sure enough, there’s the cutest little ranch house against the backdrop of the evergreen-lined mountain.
“We’re here,” Meg says, her hand clutching her seatbelt, but not unbuckling it until the truck engine is off.
I unbuckle too, and by the time I’m done Roan is opening my door and offering me a hand.
He’s such a gentleman.
I take it, and funny little tingles fill my chest.
The moment my feet hit the ground, I let go of his hand and make a show of straightening my coat.
Roan lifts Meg out, swooping her up in an arc before he puts her down, which makes her laugh.
“I’m too big for that, Dad,” she says with a giant smile.
“Never,” he says firmly. “Not until you’re thirty.”
“What if I have little kids by then?” she asks.