11 #2
His throat works and the air between us rises several degrees. My pulse quickens at the mix of stern anger and reluctant concern on his face.
Finally, he drops his big hand from my waist and crosses his arms. Some of the tension leaves his expression.
With that, a comfortable silence falls between us as Charlie and I stand here admiring the scenery, the view our only witness.
“This is Runaway Ranch,” Charlie says, pride in his deep voice. “What it’s all about.”
I see what he’s trying to show me. People. Beauty. Wild wilderness.
Everything he cares about is on this land below us.
“Tell me why,” I say, and put an earnest hand on his arm. “Tell me why you love it, Charlie.”
He looks down at me, a muscle popping in his jaw, and our gazes pin. Those cornflower blue eyes flame.
At first, I think I’ve hit a nerve, I’ll be met with another grunt or cold shoulder, but Charlie’s deep voice rumbles out like a spool of velvet unfurling over me.
“It ain’t for everybody,” he begins. “Loving the earth. But when something’s made for you, you know it.
You feel it.” He inhales deeply and stares out over the land.
His brow, his mouth soften. “Now, I don’t love the land because it’s mine, because you can never own that type of wild beauty.
I love it because it’s alive. Because it can’t be tamed.
You feel it in the air. In the sun that comes up over the meadow.
When I rise, I rise with the land. And when my working day is over, I turn in.
The land speaks to you, says you got something to live for.
It keeps you going even when you think about giving up.
To believe in the land means you believe in yourself.
Means you do one worthy thing with the time you have left in this world. ”
My throat closes up for a second.
The man, his words, are magnetic.
It gives you purpose. Life.
“I love that, Charlie,” I tell him, bringing my hands to my thundering heart. “I love your ranch. And we’re gonna save it.”
As I turn back to the view, our arms brush against each other, and my body heats.
Charlie looks down like he’s felt it too. The shift in the air. Electricity.
The apple of his throat works over unsaid words.
I tilt my face up toward him. He’s in the sun, his handsome face darkened by shadow, but I still see him. There’s pride in his expression. But there’s also something else too. Fear. Some kind of sadness there.
A sadness I used to have before I made up my mind.
A sadness I associate with loss.
I’ve seen it on my father’s face.
His gruff voice breaks the silence. “You’re getting burned,” he says, and drops his cowboy hat on my head.
In this moment, I feel branded.
My heart stalls in my chest.
Can a heart overheat?
Can a heartbeat be wired for one man?
I think these are questions I better learn to answer pretty damn fast.
“What was your sunflower?” Max asks. His cat, Pepper, meows over the line.
“I went on a hike today.”
Barefoot, I pad across the cool hardwood.
After the hike, Charlie dropped me at the cottage.
Now it’s time to get to work. I need to put together a social media calendar and call Molly, my connection at the luxury tourism agency.
By leveraging her influencers, she can increase the ranch’s exposure.
Maybe send some on a tour, which would be amazing.
Understanding why Charlie loves the ranch, seeing its beauty, has me wanting to fight even harder for it. I feel a personal stake in helping Charlie Montgomery and his brothers save this land that means so much to them.
“Rubes. A hike?”
The scolding snap in Max’s voice has me rolling my eyes. “I can hike, idiot. I went slow and steady and only barely fell off a mountain.”
He doesn’t laugh. “Any flutters?”
“No,” I lie, and refuse to feel guilty. Yesterday’s episode barely counts. No loss of consciousness, no heart rate over 180. Even today’s hike left me only slightly winded.
I’m fine. Perfectly fine.
“You feeling okay?”
I sigh and walk out of the house to stand on the small porch. The sun’s rays bend, shades of pink and purple sweeping across the field. A group of laughing guests trek across the gravel road, fishing poles in hand.
“I’m great, Max. Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about the mountains I’ve seen. The horses I’ve petted. They feel like velvet, you know.”
“You sound happy,” he admits grudgingly.
“I am happy.”
Really happy , I think when I spy Charlie through the large front window of his cabin.
“As long as you’re safe, I won’t worry.”
“Good. How’s Dad?”
“If you picked up the phone, you’d know.”
“I know,” I whisper, guilt flooding me. As much as I miss my father, miss our nightly routine of buttered saltines, homemade chicken noodle soup and reality TV, miss my garden full of foxglove and lavender, I absolutely cannot talk to him.
The grief in his voice will bring me home. Texts are all I can do right now.
And even that hurts.
“We miss you, Rubes.” Max’s voice crackles over the line. “Get whatever it is out of your system, then come home.”
My gaze returns to Charlie.
Something tells me getting this cowboy out of my system might not be so easy.