18. Summer
Summer
“I have a favor to ask.” I walk into the stallion barn where Jaxon is clipping the lead to Gent’s halter.
“What’s that?” He looks up. He’s got his boots on again, and my pulse skips, noticing he looks more like an actual cowboy every day.
I rub my hand along Gent’s neck, a good distraction from my racing heart. “I’m starting a social media account for the new wedding venue, and I want your advice.”
“Rhett handles that now,” he says, giving the clip a quick tug. “You could email him.”
I knew he’d defer to his brothers on this, which is why it’s good they aren’t here. “I don’t want Rhett’s help.”
His brow furrows.
“I want yours.”
Larissa told me to pull some original farm content together, and I’ve been scrolling through TikTok and Instagram gathering ideas.
My list includes: Jaxon on horseback. Hauling a bale of hay.
Standing in the doorway at golden hour, looking like an absolute snack.
I’m basically planning on using the oldest Chance brother as a cowboy thirst trap.
“For starters, I need to name the wedding venue.”
“It already has a name. Lucky Chance Ranch.” He pulls on a pair of leather gloves. “Why not call it Lucky Chance Weddings?”
I wince. “That sounds like we’re betting on the marriage surviving. Not the vibe brides are going for when they book a venue.”
“Good point.” He thinks about it. “How about The Wedding Barn?”
I shake my head. “Not unless we’re a discount bridal chain.”
“What are you looking for?”
I hook one boot over the other. “Something that marries a little country with vintage farm chic.”
“Hmm.” He rests an elbow on the stall door. “How about Leather and Lace?”
“Leather and Lace?” I stifle a snort-laugh. “Are you serious?”
“What?” he asks, shrugging. “It’s country, right?”
“Uh, no,” I say around a laugh. “It is a very specific type of establishment that I will not be putting on a sign.”
He holds up both hands. “I tried. Your turn now.”
“Well, I have an idea. But it doesn’t have the Chance name on it. I’d love to call it Wildflower Weddings.” I wait for him to tell me all the reasons it won’t work.
He lifts a shoulder. “Sounds good.”
“Wait.” I straighten. “You like it?”
He laughs softly. “Why are you so surprised about that?”
“Because you and I never agree on things.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “I’m sure we’ve agreed once.”
“Like?”
He stops what he’s doing and grins. “We’ve agreed to disagree plenty of times.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
“Okay. We’ve agreed to save this farm together.”
Bingo. The one thing Jaxon will get on board with. Lucky Chance. “And that’s why you’re going to help me with the content for our new social media accounts.”
He studies me. “This is a trap, isn’t it?”
“Maybe an itty-bitty one.”
He closes his eyes and blows out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Are you going to make me dance on the internet? Because that’s an automatic no.”
I gasp and put my hand over my heart. “Jaxon Chance, I would never.”
“You sure about that?”
“Well…” I bite my lip. “Unless it went viral.”
He turns back to Gent. “No. I can’t do this. Ask Earl to help.”
“Earl?” I scoff. “I can’t have an elderly man advertising a wedding venue.”
“Why not?” Jaxon asks.
“First of all, he never smiles. Second, he might actually scare people away.”
Jaxon waves his hand. “He’s harmless.”
“I know he is, but the rest of the world doesn’t find crusty cowboys as charming as we do,” I say, worried that Jaxon won’t agree and that Earl will end up as the face of Wildflower Weddings. “Larissa suggested that we tell people our origin story and how we had a little rivalry going on—”
He grunts out a laugh. “Little?”
“The point is, women aren’t booking a building; they’re booking a fantasy,” I say, even more excited about this idea now. “You’re a professional athlete who came home to save his family’s farm. That’s a story people will eat up. You’re the story.”
He scratches his head. “I don’t know about this.”
“Everyone loves a good second-chance story, Jaxon. Trust me on this.”
“Trust you?” The steel in his eyes sharpens, and his voice drops. “Those are dangerous words, Wildflower.”
Hearing my old nickname stops me from rolling into the speech I had prepared. My mind rewinds to the day I took off on Sally. It was the first time he called me Wildflower. After he left town, he never used it again.
He moves closer, and I can smell his sandalwood soap mixed with the sweet scent of fresh hay. It feels like he’s dropped a lasso over me and is pulling me in.
“Listen, cowboy,” I say, steadying my breath. “Do you want me to take it easy on you or not?”
“Depends on what you call easy,” he says, smiling.
Nerves ricochet in my stomach like a pinball machine. “Larissa thinks when people see these pictures, they’re going to assume there’s something more going on between us.”
And maybe there is. Because I definitely feel the tension radiating between us as my world narrows to him. Maybe this is our next rivalry—to see who can withstand the tension the longest. I already know who will lose this game.
He searches my face. “Okay, so you want a disclaimer?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, and his gaze drops to my parted mouth. I need him to know what he’s actually agreeing to before we move forward. “She says…we shouldn’t correct them.”
“So people might think we’re a couple?”
“Just for the brand,” I explain. “Nobody in our real life’s going to think—”
“That we’re more than business partners?” he finishes in almost a whisper. There’s a question behind it that he doesn’t say out loud. What if we let people believe what they want?
“Right,” I say quietly. “Only business partners.”
He holds my gaze. “Because you’d never want anyone in Golden Springs thinking that we’re…”
“Heavens, no,” I say a little too fast, remembering what Larissa said about that interview clip.
Our faces are only inches away now, and part of me wants to give in and erase the gap between us, while the other part wants me to run as far away as possible.
“Can you imagine what Colleen would do with that? Or Wanda?” My breathless laugh comes out a little too forced.
“Good thing neither one is on social media.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
He’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite figure out. We stand in silence for a few breaths, so close that our bodies almost touch, but neither of us moves away.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think Jaxon could see me like someone he’d consider dating. I was too small-town for his liking. He doesn’t date farmhands who show up with dirt-smudged cheeks, smelling like horses.
Whatever he said to that reporter, it does not mean what the hopeful, foolish part of me wants it to.
Larissa’s comment left me believing in a stupid fantasy—that Jaxon had hidden his feelings for me all this time.
But what if she’s wrong? What if it was some other girl entirely?
Even if it was me, he’s probably moved on now.
Why else would he pick flowers for another woman the day he returned to Golden Springs?
“Before we do this,” I say, my voice a little faint, “I just want to make sure there’s no one else who would get confused when they saw these pictures.”
He stares at me, brow creasing. “Why would someone be confused?”
“You know,” I stammer. “Like…someone you might’ve given flowers to?”
The crease between his brows relaxes as he steps back, putting needed space between us. “There’s no one who would be confused. I didn’t pick those flowers for someone I’m dating. I left them at the cemetery. For Mom.”
Oh. My gaze drops to the ground. That wasn’t what I thought he was going to say.
“You thought they were for someone else?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling the heat creep into my face.
“Don’t worry,” he says, opening Gent’s stall. “There’s not a soul in the world who’d mind seeing us together.” A tiny smile curves his lips. “Unless you’ve forgotten about Blaine.”
I clear my throat, turning to go before he catches my flushed cheeks. “Then let’s take some pictures.”
We’re standing in the barn, doors pushed all the way back, light flooding in.
The space inside is mostly empty now except for a few pieces of leftover equipment from my flower business that I’d pushed to the side since I don’t have room for them at my house.
Even though Mom’s at Golden Haven, I can’t bring myself to get rid of her things.
They’re the only ties I have left to her, fragments of a life she can’t remember, and I’m not willing to part with them.
I keep hoping that by showing Mom another picture, another object from home, she’ll remember something about our life together.
Otherwise, I’ll never know when one trinket might be the link her brain needs to spark a memory.
“I need to put my garden table somewhere.” I nod toward the large worktable in the corner.
“There’s plenty of space in the house,” he suggests. “You could move it to a guest bedroom.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that. Where will your brothers sleep?”
“In the barn with the horses.” His grin is merciless.
I give him a look. “Jaxon.”
“What? Just because they’re professional athletes doesn’t mean they need special treatment.”
“No. I cannot.”
“Well, there’s plenty of room in the basement, then. It’s not fancy, but it’s cleared out, always cool. There’s even a fridge that no one’s using.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way.” I wish I weren’t asking for another favor. I’m already farming on his land and taking over his barn.
“You won’t be in my way.” He points at a box of my garden tools. “Mind if I move this to the basement?”
“Be my guest.”
I watch him pick up the box, the flex of muscle beneath his sleeve catching my attention before I can glance away. It’s not just how he looks, either. It’s the fact that he’s doing this for me. Every time he does something thoughtful, I’m not sure what to do with the way my heart stutters.