29. Summer
Summer
I wake up to the smell of bacon and fresh coffee wafting through the house.
For a moment I blink, unsure where I am, until my mind flashes back to memories from last night: the two of us with our hands on the door, and the kiss I left on Jaxon’s cheek as goose bumps skimmed over my skin.
It was a totally different kiss from the hate kiss, but it felt just as monumental—a promise that no matter what happens now, we’re in this together.
I lie there for a few seconds longer, listening to him bang around down in the kitchen, like he’s never made breakfast before.
He didn’t have to cook, and he probably won’t let me forget the extra “points” it gives him.
But whatever has changed between us, I don’t want to go back to the rivalry we had before.
I hop out of bed, run my hands through my hair, and look down at myself.
I’m drowning in his clothes, the collar falling off my shoulder, the pants sagging on my hips, but I love the way they smell like Jaxon.
I bury my nose in his jersey, breathing it in before I head downstairs—the scent of clean laundry and a hint of his soap.
He’s at the stove with his back to me, concentrating on flipping an egg. I lean against the doorframe and watch him work, trying not to break his focus.
He turns, his eyes grazing over the shirt and joggers, and something in them sparks. “Morning, Wildflower. Sleep okay?”
“Fabulous, after that bath.” I head toward the coffee maker. “You?”
“Same, actually.” He turns the heat down on the eggs. “You know what’s funny? I haven’t slept well in years, but since coming home, I sleep like the dead.”
“Farm life will do that to you.” I pour a cup for me and one for him.
“I worked hard in hockey. I don’t think it’s that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Not sure.” He takes out two plates—the nice china ones again, which feels far too fancy for breakfast. He’s treating me like a queen again. “There’s oat milk in the fridge for your coffee.”
I cross the kitchen and feel his eyes on me the entire time.
“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, sliding a perfectly flipped egg onto a plate alongside some bacon.
“Breakfast with you, to start.”
He smiles and hands me the plate, and I settle at the little table by the window. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I cooked for our date the other night, didn’t I?” He joins me at the table, sitting across from me.
“I thought that was because it was last minute?” I reply.
“Sure. But if we’d just needed food, I could’ve cooked a frozen pizza and called it good. Instead, I made you filet mignon and served it on china. You think I do that for just anyone?”
I pick up a fork, unable to shift my gaze away from him.
A smile breaks slowly across his face, starting with his eyes and moving to his lips.
Watching him care for me in small, easy ways has started to become as natural as breathing—morning coffee, slow dancing, bath confessions, and hate kisses have all turned into something that feels wildly normal.
“And now you’re cooking me breakfast,” I add, my heart picking up speed. “I shouldn’t get used to this.”
“You absolutely should,” he replies. “I’m a man of many talents, Summer. And spoiling you is one of them.”
I hide my goofy grin behind my coffee cup, hoping he can’t see the way warmth is spreading through me.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to get attached. Who am I kidding? I’m already attached. I can’t imagine not seeing him every morning, running into him in the barn, that slow smile he saves just for me.
I think I’m developing an addiction to Jaxon Chance.
But the last man I trusted was my father, and look where that got me.
My first birthday after Dad left, I waited by the phone, hoping for a call that never came, a sign he hadn’t forgotten me.
I stayed there all night, falling asleep next to it so that Mom had to carry me to bed.
Three days later, I got a cheap card in the mail with a ten-dollar bill and a “Sorry I missed your birthday.” No explanation given. I wasn’t even worth a phone call.
I kept asking what I’d done and why he didn’t stay. Why wasn’t I enough for him?
After that, I stopped letting people get close. And now, against my better judgment, I’ve let Jaxon in.
My future is built on Jaxon being at Lucky Chance, and it’s terrifying to know I’ve walled myself into a glass box that he could shatter.
Somewhere along the way, I trust-fell backward into his arms without meaning to, and he’s been there every time to catch me. But being caught once doesn’t cure the fear of falling, and a promise to stay for now isn’t a promise to stay forever.
Looking at Jaxon’s face—so calm and kind—I’m starting to think I might be willing to lower my guard. I want to believe he’s the kind of man who doesn’t change his mind once it’s set.
I take my first bite, and he watches me eat, waiting for my response. “Okay,” I agree. “This is really good.”
His grin is insufferable. “Told you.”
On the table sits a small bouquet of wildflowers that wasn’t there last night.
“Jaxon—” I say, reaching for a deep-hued, magenta zinnia in a mason jar, alongside some purple fall asters and the last of the coneflowers. “Where did these come from?”
“Before you scold me for picking your flowers, Mom planted these next to the fence line. Seemed a shame not to enjoy them.”
It looks exactly like something I might put together. My heart flutters inside my chest. “Jaxon Chance, are you bribing me so I’ll never leave?”
“That’s the idea,” he says with a wink.
This man has somehow found the two fastest routes to my heart—food and flowers. And right now, I am so gone for him.
He is kind and thoughtful in a way that most people don’t see.
He cares about this ranch and the people like family, and I know he’d throw himself in front of a stampede of horses to protect me.
I want him in all aspects of my life—across the table at breakfast, riding in the saddle next to me, and holding my hand while visiting my mom.
But I’m torn between my growing feelings for Jaxon and little Summer’s fear of rejection, that he’ll eventually leave.
“By the way,” he says, pulling my thoughts back to him. “Dr. Holcomb left me a message last night. Said the colt’s wound was just superficial. No tendon damage.”
“What a relief,” I say. “That means he can still go to Keeneland.”
“Holcomb’s stopping by one more time today, just to make sure he’s still doing well. Earl is handling it.”
“Good. Because today I need to get everything ready for the open house.”
He pauses mid-bite. “I thought that wasn’t for another month?”
“I had to move it up to right after Keeneland. I’ve gotten so many inquiries about touring the wedding venue that waiting felt like leaving money on the table. Which means the next few days are about to get a little insane.”
His frown deepens. “Are you sure you’re up for that after fainting last night?”
“I feel great today,” I say with a smile that seems to ease his worry. “Besides, the sooner I get deposits from couples, the better for Lucky Chance. I’ve planned to keep the event small, anyway.”
“Really?” He sets his fork down. “This is basically the grand opening of Wildflower Weddings. You don’t want small.”
“I can’t pull off a big event in a week after Keeneland, Jaxon. Not without help. Especially with Keeneland breathing down our necks first.”
He wipes his hands on a napkin. “What if I found you some help?”
“We can’t afford to hire anyone. And the farm crew is already maxed out getting ready for the sale.”
“I wasn’t thinking of hiring anyone.” He picks up his mug. “My brothers will be here later this week.”
“But I thought they were all too busy to help—”
“I got a group text yesterday,” he says. “Miraculously, all three of them have Thursday and Friday off.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “What?”
“I know,” he says, shaking his head. “It must be your lucky day, Summer Daniels, because this may not ever happen again.”
This changes everything. Not only can I pull off a bigger event now, the brothers can take pictures and videos for social media, which will draw in more interest for the wedding venue. The coincidence seems too perfect to ignore.
“They could help set up on Thursday,” Jaxon suggests.
“Would they be willing to do promotion ahead of it? Possibly a newspaper interview?” I ask.
“Jess Connors at the Golden Springs Gazette emailed me the other day about the venue launch. If I gave her the opportunity to do an interview with your brothers, she’d give us prime coverage in the paper.
I know doing a small-town interview is far below their usual media appearances, but it would be huge for us. ”
Jaxon shrugs. “I don’t see why not. They’re all in on this venue idea. And Wyatt, I should warn you, takes parties very seriously. The man threw a fundraiser for a charity last year that broke their fundraising record. He’d love an excuse to go all out for this event.”
“Really?”
“You say the word, and he’ll handle the entertainment. As long as you take care of the wedding part.”
“I can do that.” I lean back in my chair, my mind spinning with ideas. If the party is going to include his famous brothers, I don’t want to only invite a dozen couples. We might as well go really big. “I’m planning on inviting some people in town. Maybe we open it up to the community.”
Jaxon’s brows rise. “Everyone?”
“Why not?” I shrug. “It’ll get people talking. You know Golden Springs loves their gossip. Might as well give them something worth talking about.”
“Talking about us…or the barn?”
“Hmm.” I smile over the rim of my coffee cup. “Unavoidably both, at this point.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think Golden Springs has had this much excitement since Rhett got drafted to the NHL.”
I squeeze his hand across the table. “All because of you.” Then I stand, realizing I have a thousand things to get done today. “I’d better start planning.”
Jaxon’s gaze drops to my shirt. His jersey, actually. “Aren’t you going to change clothes first?”
“Nope,” I say. “For the record, I’m wearing this today.”
“I figured.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Summer, you look good in my name.”
I want to scream-laugh, fist in my teeth, but instead I just grin like a fool. I may never recover from hearing those words.
“Good thing it fits, then,” I say. “Because I’m keeping it for good.”
I spend the rest of the day prepping for the open house, which turns out to be an excellent distraction from thinking about last night.
I’ve already set up the space with a few more lights and tables near the far wall.
I’m using a few of Miriam’s best linen tablecloths on the tables and layering them with simple place settings.
I’ll add centerpieces closer to the open house with the last of the late-season dahlias, dried lavender and whatever else is blooming.
That way it’ll give a glimpse into what it could look like.
Jaxon’s been at the yearling barn all day with Earl, prepping for Keeneland.
We’re both too busy to see each other, but he texts me at least three times, and every single time my phone buzzes, my heart does a little flip.
I’m in the middle of wrestling with a metal arch that I’ll cover with flowers, once it’s actually assembled.
According to the manual, I need to insert Part F into Slot C before attaching the curved support beam.
I look at the pieces on the ground. None of them are labeled.
Good grief, I will never figure this out. My phone buzzes and I put aside the pieces.
Jaxon: I asked my brothers about helping with the open house and they’re all in. Wyatt just asked me about the dress code. Have you decided on one?
Me: No. Should I?
Jaxon: He’s suggesting a cowboy theme for us guys.
Me: I love that idea!
Jaxon: Hang on. Telling Wyatt now.
I turn back to the arch while Jaxon texts his brother.
I’m pretty sure this manual was translated by someone who’s never actually assembled anything before.
I pick up what I think is the right part and try to fit it into the slot on the diagram.
It goes in, which feels like a giant victory, until the entire left side of the arch slowly leans to the right.
I push it straight, only to watch it lean the opposite direction. My phone buzzes again.
Jaxon: You just made Wyatt’s entire week. Apparently, he is buying us all special Lucky Chance cowboy hats. He’s completely dedicated to this new persona. I think he wants to give Hank Branford a run for his money.
Me: Tell him Hank Branford has nothing on the Chance brothers in custom cowboy hats. I might just swoon.
Jaxon: Then I guess I’ll have to catch you.
Me: I’m counting on it, cowboy.
Jaxon: Now he’s looking at belt buckles. You’ve created a monster.
Me: I’m surprised you agreed to the hat.
Jaxon: It’s growing on me. Might have something to do with you. When can I see you again? Breakfast seems like a lifetime ago.
Me: You’re very bad for my productivity, you know that?
Jaxon: Good. Being productive is overrated. Also, Wyatt wants to hire a band. He says live music makes it feel like an event.
Me: I didn’t even think about music.
Jaxon: He’s already texting people in Nashville. BIG names.
Me: Wait. Does he need an opening act? Because my friend Larissa would love to do it.
Larissa couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to Wyatt when we saw him at the Blue Moon Saloon. If Wyatt contacts her about this gig, she’ll probably say yes before he finishes the sentence.
Jaxon: He says he’ll call her tonight if you send her number. Also, he’s hiring a caterer.
Me: Jaxon, we cannot afford food for everyone in town!
Jaxon: It’s Wyatt. He has connections. Also, he’s been hating the fact that he’s not allowed to just write a check and fix the farm debt. This is something he can do to help. Parties are basically his love language.
Me: I love your brother.
Jaxon: Don’t tell him that. His ego is already inflated enough wearing a cowboy hat. Now he’s looking at very expensive chaps.
Me: I’m sorry, CHAPS FOR A PARTY?
Jaxon: He found a website where you can get them custom-made. Someone needs to stop this man.
Me: Please talk him out of it.
Jaxon: Nobody has authority over Wyatt when he’s in party-planning mode.
Me: Tell him he can keep the chaps for personal use. But you’re still wearing the hat.
Jaxon: Told you I might keep wearing it. Guess I’ve officially decided.
Me: Don’t get cocky, cowboy. I can still outride you any day.