13. Solomon
THIRTEEN
SOLOMON
There’s a break after the morning camps so the volunteers and ranch hands head in for lunch.
Mae, my grandpa’s housekeeper who does all the cooking for the ranch, put together a spread with some help at the grill from a couple of the guys.
Cecelia, Jay, and I fill our plates with burgers, coleslaw, potato salad, and fruit.
“There’s some shade over there,” I say, pointing to the old sycamore tree by the side of the porch.
“I actually need to talk to Red about something,” Jay says, winking at me over Cecelia’s head. “You guys go ahead.”
I glare at him but Cecelia doesn’t seem to notice his idiot smirk or that wink.
“Blanket okay?” I ask as we pass the porch where Mae set out a basket of brightly colored, thick, woven blankets. “Or I could go grab some camp chairs from the barn.”
“I’m not above sitting on a blanket on the ground,” she says easily. So I grab us a blanket while she gets a few sodas and we meet under the tree.
“This is nice,” she says, closing her eyes and lifting her face toward the sky. Even in the shade it’s hot as hell out here, but she doesn’t seem to mind it.
“What would you normally be doing on a Saturday afternoon?” I ask, trying hard not to look at the long line of her throat with her head tipped back like that.
She opens one eye and gives me a sheepish smile. “Probably running drills. Or hitting the weight room if I couldn’t convince someone to play me.”
“You’re gonna burn out. You play too much soccer.”
“No such thing,” she says, then takes a huge bite of her burger. It shouldn’t be attractive—I usually really dislike the sight or sound of people eating—but something about this gorgeous, petite girl chowing down on a greasy burger has my belly clenching.
“Has your grandfather always done these camps?” she asks, her arm brushing mine as she reaches for her soda.
I try to ignore the heat that rushes through me at the touch of her skin on mine.
“He started them about five years ago.” I nod my head toward my grandfather and the stout woman in denim overalls who he’s talking to.
“You see that woman? That’s Doreen. She’s the head of the chamber of commerce in town.
She’d been bugging him to get more involved in the community for years, but he always brushed her off.
He would donate money to whatever fundraiser she was working on to make her go away so he could keep to himself. ”
Across the lawn, Doreen touches Red’s arm, laughing up at him. Even from here I can see his cheeks flush. “Oooh,” Cecelia murmurs happily. “She likes him.”
I laugh. “I think so, too. She’s always finding an excuse to come up here, bugging him about something or other. He says he hates it but…” I trail off as Red shoots a look at Doreen from under his Stetson before quickly turning his head away.
“Pretty sure the crush is mutual,” Cecelia says, grinning. She nudges me with her boot. “You should totally play matchmaker.”
I snort. “Jay has tried. The last time he mentioned her at lunch, Red literally got up from the table in the middle of the meal and went to hide in the stables.” She laughs and I get distracted for a minute, watching her.
“Anyhow. A few years ago, she came and told him about a camp she was organizing for foster kids in the community. Another ranch had to back out at the last minute and they were going to have to cancel. She laid the guilt on thick and Red agreed—very begrudgingly—to let them use the ranch.”
I look over at her, hoping she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “It’s not that he didn’t want to help,” I tell her. “He’s just private. He’s the most welcoming man when it comes to his loved ones, but he likes to keep his circle small. Doesn’t want a lot of people up in his business.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “I think I see the family resemblance.”
I blow out a breath. “In our defense, most people suck.”
She laughs and I find myself grinning back at her.
“Anyhow, Red did the camp and it went well. I think he was surprised by how much he enjoyed working with the kids. So he turned it into a regular thing and let Doreen talk him into adding more groups. He bitches that it takes resources away from the ranch, but we all know he loves it, really.”
“Do you come to help out every weekend?”
“In the summer, yeah. But during the school year he gets mad if he thinks I’m neglecting my studies to drive out here every week.”
“I don’t think he’d be able to stop me from coming here all the time,” she says, looking out over the ranch and the rolling hills beyond. “It’s so beautiful.”
Something warm simmers in my chest and I have to force myself to look away from the peaceful expression on her face.
It does something to me, that she seems to like this place.
“You want to get out and really see it?” She blinks at me and I point toward the paddock where Solitaire and Pappy are grazing. “We could take a ride.”
Excitement flashes in her eyes. “Isn’t the next session starting soon?”
“They can spare us for an hour or so.” I gather our empty plates. “You spent the morning helping kids get comfortable with horses. I think it’s time you learned how to ride one.”
Her expression is killing me. I go through the safety spiel and explain how to mount the horse and how to direct it where she wants to go. She’s concentrating on the instructions, her forehead scrunched, and it’s so fucking cute I have to fight my grin.
And then I hand her a pink riding helmet and I can’t fight it any longer. “Pink?” she asks, sounding disgusted.
I try to make my voice innocent. “I thought you would like it.”
She glares at me but plops the helmet onto her head anyhow, her expression defiant, like she’s daring me to say anything.
I’m honestly pretty speechless—if I thought she looked cute all eager-eyed and concentrating when I gave her instructions, it’s nothing on how adorable she is in that helmet.
Without thinking, I reach out to help her adjust the strap, my fingers brushing against her chin, and we both freeze, staring at each other.
Pappy neighs impatiently and I snap out of it, fastening her chin strap as quickly as I can before taking a step back. “Anyhow,” I say, my voice gruff. “Pappy’s an old pro, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Pappy, huh? Did you give me an old man horse because you doubt my ability?”
I roll my eyes. “Heaven forbid anyone doubts your ability to be an expert at something you’ve never tried before.” I pat Pappy’s neck. “Pappy is short for Paprika, by the way. And she’s a six-year-old mare.”
“Mare means girl?”
“Mare means a female over three, yes.”
She smiles in satisfaction. “Girl power. I like it.” She pats the horse’s neck. “How did she get the name Paprika?”
“Because she’s got some red in her coat. And she was a little spicy as a foal.” I give Cecelia a look. “I wonder why I picked her for you.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m spicy? I’ll have you know, my reputation is pure sweetness and—”
I point at the mounting block. “Get on the horse, Ransome.”
She’s biting back a grin as she follows my instructions. Once she’s up and secure, I head over to Solitaire and mount him from the ground. “Show off,” Cecelia mutters, and it’s my turn to bite back a grin. Of course she’s going to be competitive about this, too.
I lead her out past the paddocks and out-buildings, the sounds from the ranch slowly fading away behind us.
Cecelia is fairly steady on the horse, but Pappy doesn’t require a lot of direction—she’s more than happy to follow Solitaire wherever he leads.
The farther we get out from the barn, the more comfortable Cecelia looks, like some of the calming magic of this place is seeping into her veins, the way it always does for me.
“Wow,” she murmurs when we stop along the ridge. The whole ranch is spread out below us across the expanse of sunbaked earth dotted by sagebrush, with dramatic mountains slashing across the sky in the distance. “This is really beautiful, Sol.”
“Best view on earth,” I agree, breathing in deep, the smell of leather tack, horses, and eucalyptus in my nose.
“It’s such a different landscape from the farm in Tennessee,” she muses. “But something about it feels the same.”
“The quiet, maybe,” I suggest.
She makes a face. “Not a lot of quiet when my family is around.” She looks out at the mountains and I’m struck, once again, by how beautiful she is. You’d think I’d get used to it at some point, but it always hits me square in the chest.
“Maybe it feels…safe,” she goes on, sounding a little bashful, like she’s embarrassed to express the thought. “Far away from everything bad in the world.”
That’s certainly how I would describe this place. The first and only place I ever really felt safe in my life. “The farm in Tennessee feels safe to you?”
She nods, still looking at the mountains. “There’s something about knowing there won’t be any press there,” she says. “No fans. My dad and my uncles can just be themselves. It’s like the world can’t affect us there.”
I let that thought settle around us as I try to decide how much I want to say.
“This was always my favorite place,” I tell her.
“My grandpa, the horses, Jay and Em living right up the road. The ranch is busy, but it never felt stressful.” I swallow.
“You may have noticed that I have a tendency to get anxious.” She doesn’t laugh or roll her eyes or make any response that indicates she thinks my words are an understatement, so I continue.
“That kind of thing never seemed as bad here. I felt…peaceful.”
“I get that,” she says softly.
“Anyway,” I go on, figuring I may as well get to the point of why I brought her here in the first place. “I was particularly grateful for this place—and for my grandpa—when I had that accident I told you about.”
“In baseball? The pitch to your face?”
“Yeah. I was having trouble taking pitches after that. I was always in my head, always scared. I couldn’t stop second-guessing.”