Chapter Four
Nicole had seen plenty of ranches in Oklahoma. Her high school boyfriend’s family had raised cattle. Her college roommate spent summers at her uncle’s horse ranch. But nothing prepared her for the sight of the Farraday spread as Aunt Eileen’s truck turned under a weathered wooden arch.
The main house sat back from the road, sprawling and inviting with a wide front porch that wrapped around at least two sides.
An enormous oak tree dominated the front yard, its branches stretching out like welcoming arms. Beyond the house, a red barn rose against the late afternoon sky, and further back, several smaller buildings formed a tidy row.
“Wow,” slipped out before she could stop it.
Aunt Eileen chuckled. “It grows on you.”
If it grew any more it would need its own zip code.
“Been in the family for generations.” Aunt Eileen’s gaze landed lovingly on the massive home. “Sean’s great-great-grandfather built the original house, though it’s been added onto more times than I can count.”
Nicole counted at least four vehicles already parked out front.
Her stomach did a little flip. Had Mike ever mentioned how many Farradays were there?
Undoing her seatbelt, she eased out the door and slamming it behind her, stood in awe at her surroundings.
The front door opened and a striking redhead waved at them.
“That’s Adam’s wife, Meg. Well, her name is Margaret but nobody ever calls her that.” The family matriarch took a step forward. Before she could say a word, a blur of gray darted out from behind Meg and galloped toward them.
Halfway to the truck, the dog seemed to take note of her and shifted his trajectory from Aunt Eileen to…
Nicole glanced over her shoulder, hoping someone familiar to the animal was standing behind her, no such luck.
Debating how stupid would she look if she turned and jumped back into the truck, the dog leapt forward and she would have sworn flew across the last few feet to land in front of her.
Oh, how she hoped she didn’t look like his favorite chew toy.
“Good heavens, Gray.” Aunt Eileen shook her head. “What’s gotten into you?”
The dog’s tail wagged so hard his entire back end swayed.
Tension rolled off her shoulders now that she was sure the dog’s trajectory was motivated by excitement and not considering her an afternoon snack.
“Well, hello there.” Slowly she extended her hand for Gray to sniff.
Instead, he pressed his head against her hip, then did an excited circle before attempting what could only be described as a full-body greeting maneuver.
She stumbled backward, lost her footing on the gravel, and landed flat on her backside in a cloud of dust. For half a second she stared up at the wide Texas sky.
Still dancing around her, Gray eased his steps, nudged her shoulder, then licked her cheek.
Momentarily having the wind knocked out of her was quickly replaced with laughter.
Not a polite giggle, but a full blown, belly deep laugh.
Her arms came up to rub the scruff of his neck.
A beautiful German Shepherd mix with intelligent eyes stared down at her, his tail wagging faster than a feather duster on steroids.
“Well, I’ll be.” Aunt Eileen came to stand over them. “He acts like he knows you.”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life.” Nicole crouched down, and Gray licked her again, making her giggle. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”
“That’s an understatement.” Ryan’s voice came from behind her.
Nicole looked up as he closed the truck door and strode toward them, another two vehicles pulling up behind his.
“Gray,” he called evenly. “You’re supposed to welcome guests, not tackle them.”
The dog barked once, clearly unconcerned.
“Sorry.” Ryan offered her a hand, one corner of his mouth lifted.
She took it. Strong grip. Warm palm. One smooth pull and she was back on her feet. Brushing dust from her jeans, she raised her gaze to meet his. “That’s the best welcome I’ve had all year.”
“Gray.” A new voice, deeper and carrying natural authority, came from the porch.
Still vibrating with excitement, the dog immediately plopped his back end down on the dirt, though his tail kept wagging.
A man with the same blue eyes and chiseled features as Ryan and his brothers descended the porch steps. “Sorry about that. Gray’s usually better behaved.”
“It’s fine.” Nicole reached over to scratch behind Gray’s ears. “I like dogs once I’m sure they like me.”
“Sean Farraday.” His handshake was firm, his smile genuine. “You must be Mike’s sister.”
“Nicole. Nice to meet you, Mr. Farraday.”
“Sean. Nobody stands on ceremony around here.” He glanced at the dog, who had positioned himself at Nicole’s side like he’d appointed himself her personal guardian. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”
“The dog has good taste.” Aunt Eileen leaned against the man whose arm immediately looped around her waist.
“But no manners,” Ryan teased.
Inside, the house was cooler, bright, alive.
The scent of roasted meat and something sweet hung in the air.
Comfortable furniture arranged in clusters, family photos smothered the mantel of a floor to ceiling stone fireplace.
Everything spoke of family, history, roots.
Voices and laughter drifted from what Nicole assumed was the kitchen.
“Ladies,” Aunt Eileen called out, “we’ve got company.”
Three women appeared in the doorway, all smiling, all looking effortlessly at home in jeans and boots.
“Nicole, this is Valerie, Morgan’s wife.” Aunt Eileen gestured to a striking brunette. “Nora, married to Neil. And Eloise, who somehow agreed to put up with Quinn.”
“Hey!” Quinn protested from behind them. “I’m a catch.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Eloise shot back, but her eyes sparkled with love as she turned to Nicole. “Welcome to Farraday country.”
Another woman still in the kitchen, sporting an old fashioned apron embroidered with Food, Family, and Fun, turned, waving bright red lobster oven mitts on each hand. “I’m Meg. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving, actually.” Nicole realized she hadn’t eaten since that morning’s rushed breakfast.
Nicole followed the crowd into the kitchen. Both men and women were moving back and forth from the kitchen to the adjacent dining room. A room with the biggest dining table Nicole had ever seen.
“Custom.” Aunt Eileen followed her gaze. “We need every inch of it.”
“Tonight’s actually a small crowd.” Valerie handed a stack of dishes to her husband.
Small. Nicole glanced around. If this was small, she’d hate to see when the entire clan was gathered together.
“Find a seat,” Aunt Eileen instructed.
Chairs scraped. Conversations overlapped.
Ryan slipped into a spot across from her.
Heads bowed, food was blessed. Someone passed mashed potatoes.
Someone else passed brisket. Nicole barely had time to process it all before her plate was full.
She glanced around at the noise, the easy teasing, the warmth that didn’t feel forced.
Laughter erupted over some story involving a broken fence and an escaped calf, and she found herself smiling though she didn’t have a clue about calves, fences, or ranching.
And across the table, Ryan caught her eye. For a second their gazes locked and heat warmed her cheeks. Then someone asked for the biscuits and the moment passed like it hadn’t happened at all. What the heck had she gotten herself into?
Over the years, Gray had met many a stranger crossing the Farraday threshold.
The dog was friendly, loyal, and had an uncanny knack for showing up exactly when needed.
But watching his fascination with and downright adoration of Nicole was something else entirely.
The sweet dog had not moved from her side.
Even now, rather than sit at his Uncle Sean’s feet, the dog was happily by Nicole.
Ryan had to ask himself, what did the dog see?
Across the table, Quinn caught his eye and smirked. Ryan ignored him.
“Pass the green beans.” Owen stretched his arm out from down the table.
“Oh, this is delicious.” Nicole’s eyes flashed bright. “I’ve always liked brisket, but this is great.”
“No lean meats in this house.” Sean Farraday smiled. “The fat has all the flavors.”
“This one sure has flavor.” Nicole reached for another slice from a nearby platter.
“Dad makes the best brisket this side of the Rio Grande.” Adam accepted the platter from his wife. “He’s got the magic touch. All of us have tried, but it’s never as good as Dad’s.”
A twinkle sparkled in Uncle Sean’s eyes to match his smile.
“The Irish touch.” Aunt Eileen smiled at him.
“Oh, that reminds me.” Meg patted her husband’s hand. “We got the DNA results.”
“DNA results?” Uncle Sean frowned. “For what?”
“Here we go again,” Aunt Eileen muttered with a stifled smile.
“Dad,” Declan groaned, “you can’t have forgotten the heritage debate that lasted over two Sunday suppers?”
Uncle Sean continued to frown, thinking, not speaking.
“With a name like Margaret Colleen O’Brien, you can’t get any more Irish.”
“Yes, you can.” Adam flashed a toothy grin. “Adam Patrick Farraday.”
Uncle Sean heaved a sigh and bobbed his head. “It’s coming back to me.”
“My grandmother still makes soda bread from a recipe passed down six generations. I grew up with an Irish harp—a Cláirseach—in our living room.”
“A what?” Owen squinted.
“KLOOR-shah,” Meg repeated slowly. “It’s the traditional Irish harp. The one you see on the Guinness logo.”
“Fancy,” Paxton teased.
“My point is,” Meg continued, “I’m as Irish as a four-leaf clover.”
“And I’m as Irish as a leprechaun’s pot of gold,” Adam shot back.
“Yep.” Uncle Sean sighed again. “Definitely remember this argument now.”
Head down, Nicole hid a smile behind her napkin.
“So you two actually did DNA tests over this?” Grinning, Aunt Eileen shook her head. “A bit drastic, don’t you think?”
Adam shrugged. “We needed some way to settle the debate.”
“And?” Morgan leaned forward. “Who won?”
“Define won.” Meg smiled.
Most faces at the table frowned with confusion.
Adam hefted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Apparently, I am 75% Irish, 20% United Kingdom, and 5% Iberian.”
“Iberian?” Uncle Sean frowned.
“That’s Spain and Portugal,” Declan explained.
Sean Farraday glared at his son. “I know that. What I don’t know is where did the Iberian come from?”
“Now that I think about it,” Aunt Eileen looked to the ceiling, “I seem to remember my grandmother telling us that we were descended from a Portuguese Princess.”
“Portuguese?” Echoed around the table.
Aunt Eileen shrugged. “We never believed her, but maybe she knew of which she spoke.”
“So then,” Nora held her fork midway to her mouth, “what’s Meg’s Irish?”
A grin bloomed on Meg’s face. “77 percent.”
“Tell them the rest,” Adam leaned back and crossed his arms.
“And 5 percent Scottish.”
“That explains the red hair,” Aunt Eileen muttered.
“And…” Adam’s grin grew wider.
Meg sighed. “18 percent Southern European. Calabria.”
“Isn’t that Italian?” Becky tipped her head sidewise.
“Stubborn Italian.” Adam straightened. “Which means that she has more full Irish but I have more Irish and British Isles.”
Shaking her head, Aunt Eileen smiled. “Sorry, handsome, but like it or not, seventy seven percent trumps seventy five percent.”
Meg playfully scrunched her face and winked at her husband. Of all the cousins, Adam and Meg had been the first to marry and danged if they didn’t look as much in love now as they probably had the day they wed.
The conversation shifted from ancestry to ranch business, to Sadieville business until the most important subject matter came into play—dessert. Aunt Eileen pushed to her feet. “I made blueberry pie.”
“And I brought mimosa cake balls,” Brooke’s wife Toni smiled.
Chairs shifted scraping against the hardwood floor, people stood gathering their dirty dishes, and voices collided calling out for one tasty morsel or the other.
Nicole stood, her steps tentative, her expression reminding Ryan of a deer in the headlights.
He didn’t have to know much about her and Mike’s family tree to piece together the woman was overwhelmed by the family size.
Taking a second to sidestep his brother, Ryan sidled up beside her. “They’re both delicious, but start with the pie. It’s to die for.”
Nicole blinked then settled her gaze on him. Her voice came out low and gentle. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He considered his next words carefully. “We may be a little overwhelming when gathered, but you can count on any Farraday to have your back.”
A slight smile teased one corner of her mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Now all he had to ask is who was going to have his back when it came to one Nicole Davis?