Chapter 19
I’ve been so busy that I’ve barely seen Juniper this week. Countless trail rides, lots of lessons, and I was in charge of the after-dinner activity twice. I was expecting to have Wednesday off, but Mr. Calhoun asked me to switch with Shane so he could go to an appointment in Missoula.
Now, it’s Friday morning, and I don’t know what to do with myself. This is a recurring problem when I have a day off. I don’t like sitting still, but Mr. Calhoun was adamant when we started that we needed to take our days off to do something fun or relaxing, not just work the day away.
The only leisurely thing I want to do is lie in bed with Juniper. I remember Mrs. Calhoun mentioned Juniper had today off, too. Maybe we can’t lounge in bed all day, but maybe we can hang out in the daylight and do something that doesn’t involve work.
Like a date.
No, I can’t think like that. Not like a date. Just friends with the same day off, hanging out. Maybe kissing a little.
That thought is what has me dressing quickly and rushing down the stairs, greeted by the scent of coffee and bacon. Mrs. Calhoun is flipping pancakes when I enter the kitchen, and she turns and gives me a warm smile in greeting.
“Good morning, Addison. Hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Have a seat.” She points her spatula at the kitchen table, and I obey.
She sets a plate with all the fixings in front of me, as well as a mug of coffee, and joins me with her own.
Mrs. Calhoun seems to dislike silence just as much as her daughter, because right after I take my first bite, she asks, “Any fun plans for your day off?”
I shrug. “Nothing so far. Do you have anything you need help with?”
She waves me off, shaking her head. “Oh, no. You enjoy your free time. I was just being a little nosy. Wanted to see if Juniper asked you to go with her, but I guess that’s a silly question since she’s already left.”
“Go with her? Where has she gone?” She’s leaving the ranch? Will she be with someone? If she’s alone, she might have a panic attack, and then she won’t be able to get back as easily. I don’t like the idea of her being out and about without me—I mean, someone—to help her if she needs it.
“To the wildflowers. She hasn’t been able to see them yet, and I commissioned a new painting for cabin five. She left about twenty minutes ago so she could get good lighting.”
“Oh. Cool.”
Juniper never mentioned that. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed, but I’m glad to know she’s not far. She’s in one of her safe spaces.
I shouldn’t have the urge to follow her out there and watch her paint all day, but I do. I want to watch her process, see those cute little lines that form between her brows when she focuses on something.
No. I need to find something else to do other than follow Juniper like a little lost puppy. I can take the day to give Athena a proper washing, or I can call my parents and check in. Maybe I can sweet-talk Mrs. Calhoun or Kathy into letting me help turn over beds.
We finish our breakfast, chatting about the guests who were here this week: a group of friends from Utah who came to get away.
I recognized Levi Kane, a championship bull rider, right away, and I’ll admit I was a little wary.
He has a reputation for being a cocky asshole, but he and his friends were polite and respectful, and some of them even had experience with horses, so teaching them how to ride was a breeze.
It felt a little less like work and more like hanging out with them this week.
Mrs. Calhoun refuses to let me help her with the dishes, but I wash my own plate, utensils, and cup anyway. Really, I’m wasting time trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my day.
“Oh dear. What am I going to do with that girl?” She sighs, shaking her head, pulling a fabric cooler from the fridge, and wiggling it.
“Juniper forgot to take the lunch I packed, and knowing her, she’ll paint and paint until the sun goes down.
I bet she didn’t even take any water. Would you mind taking this to her, so she doesn’t starve or get dehydrated? ”
“Yes,” I say all too quickly. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. I can take it to her.”
A wide smile spreads across Mrs. Calhoun’s face. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you. Oh! Here, take this, too.” She goes to the mudroom just off the kitchen and comes back with a worn-looking checkered blanket. “That way you have somewhere to sit that’s not on the hard ground.”
“Oh, I probably won’t stay.”
“We’ll see. I’d best get going to see the guests off. Thank you again, Addison. Have a wonderful day.” She tosses me a wink before she’s out the door, leaving me with more questions than answers.
I take the cooler and blanket out to the barn and saddle up Athena. I grab a few extra bottles of water and an extra apple for her before I load up and head to the trails.
I hope Juniper is okay with me showing up like this, but if this goes wrong, I can blame her mom.
About half an hour later, we make it to the fork in the road. I’m familiar with this trail, familiar with the terrain and the view. Regret pinches at my chest. I’ve seen the wildflowers once or twice a week since they bloomed, but Juniper hasn’t, and they’re her favorite part of the ranch.
Even though I’ve seen the view before, I crest the ridge where the fields open up. The usual sea of green is infused with purples, pinks, and yellows, creating a stunning scene.
But it pales in comparison to the woman sitting amongst them, her head bent over a pad.
Something hot lances through my stomach. Not lust. More. The same feeling I had when I saw her painting, but heavier, poignant. Amplified by the way my heart threatens to beat through my ribcage.
One could compare Juniper Calhoun to a rose, a sunflower, or a daisy—any standard, beautiful flower—but they’d be wrong.
She’s pretty like the wildflowers. Something unique that takes your breath away every time you look, something you spend your whole life wanting to see again.
Something you want to take a picture of so you can remember it, even if it will never compare to the real thing.
Before I get close enough for her to hear me, I take out my phone and zoom in, getting a gorgeous shot of her I know I’ll look back on fondly.
My camera roll mostly consists of horses or professional rodeo photos from when I was competing.
Now, I wish I had more pictures of Juniper.
Is it weird to want to capture moments with her when this is ending?
Will she be weirded out if I start snapping shots of her?
A problem for another time.
Clicking my tongue and nudging my heels against her, Athena takes the small decline down and whinnies when she sees Daffodil tied to a tree.
Juniper’s head whips up, and she blinks, like she’s trying to get her eyes to focus.
When she sees me, her spine snaps straight, and she stands, dusting off the back of her dress.
Wait, why the hell is she in a dress?
I dismount Athena and tie her up next to Daffodil. By the time that’s done, Juniper has already made it to where I’m standing, a sheepish look on her face.
“What are you doing?” she asks, fiddling with the hem of her white dress.
I nearly groan at the way it clings to her chest before flaring out over her hips. There’s no way she comfortably rode here in that, nor is it safe for her to do so, but I won’t deny it’s doing things to me.
She does things to me. Things I can’t afford to let surface, even if they’re right there, begging to be let out.
“Your mom said you forgot your lunch, and she was worried about you forgetting to drink water, so I brought you some.”
Her brows furrow, glancing back to her setup, where a smaller cooler and a large water bottle sit on a blanket amongst her art supplies. Heat flushes my cheeks.
Did Mrs. Calhoun do this on purpose?
“Thank you for bringing it. I probably could have brought more water.” She takes the items from me, our fingertips brushing.
The simple touch sends a rush of electricity through my veins, and I wonder if her touch will never not affect me.
“Do you… um… do you want to stay? I mean, never mind. You probably have better things to do on your day off than sit and watch me paint.”
I step closer and use two fingers to tip her chin. “I’d love nothing more than to spend the day with you, sunshine.”
Unable to hold myself back, I press a quick kiss to her lips, brims of our hats brushing.
She blinks up at me through her dark lashes, a flush covering her cheeks, and the sweetest smile on her face. “Come on, then. But don’t make fun of me if my face gets all twisted. Mama says I look like I’ve smelled a skunk when I get in the painting zone.”
I don’t think there’s a single expression Juniper could make that wouldn’t be devastatingly beautiful, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I grab the cooler back from her and interlace our fingers. “I promise.”
Juniper wasn’t wrong that her face changes when she’s concentrating, but it’s adorable.
I can’t look away, cataloguing every minuscule change from the way her eyebrows tilt down, to the lines crinkling her eyes when she scrunches her nose, and the way her tongue pokes out from between her lips when she’s thinking over something.
After her initial rough sketch—which is what she was working on when I arrived—she began covering the whole thing in light gray paint. She’s so in the zone, I didn’t dare interrupt and ask her why, but I’m curious. I would eagerly listen to her sweet voice explain every step of the process.
After about two hours of her adding layers of paint, waiting for them to dry, then adding more—all while chatting aimlessly and snacking in between—Juniper sets the canvas aside and stretches her arms above her head.
“I forget how hard sitting on the ground can be. Let’s stretch our legs for a bit. ”
I stand first, then help her up, pulling her in for another brief kiss. These casual touches out in the open are something I could get used to, but I know I can’t. We each grab an apple from the cooler and stroll through the field.
It’s like we’re in another world out here with the sun breaking through the clouds. Juniper looks ethereal in her white dress, surrounded by blooms of different colors.
An image of her in a different kind of white dress, looking up at me with sapphire eyes filled with tears of joy, flashes in my mind. The image is so vivid, so powerful, it threatens to send me to my knees.
Marriage isn’t something I’ve actively thought about. I figured when it was time to be done with the rodeo, I’d start thinking about settling down with someone nice, maybe have a few animals.
I can picture it so clearly, life with Juniper.
We’d live in her tiny house, and I’d help with the ranch.
Sunday dinners year-round with her parents, and nights spent tangled together.
Openly holding hands at Glacier’s Grocery and dancing with her at The Mule.
I’d hold her when she has panic attacks, and she’d remind me not to be so grumpy all the time.
But that isn’t how this thing with her will be, and that’s a reality I have to live with.
I swear my heart is being ripped out of my chest, and I know that when I leave this place, pieces of my heart will be left here, scattered among the wildflowers.
The flowers will grow and bloom again next year, but I won’t be here to see them.
To be reminded of the woman I’m pretty sure I’m in love with.