Chapter 7
SEVEN
AUbrEE
I worried that I wouldn’t sleep well out here, without the sounds of the city around me. Worried that it would be too quiet, or I would be thinking too much about everything I left behind. Surprisingly, none of that bothered me, and I slept better than I have in the past two months.
Heading downstairs, I smell coffee, and I know it’s not from Truett. Taking the steps quickly, I rush around the corner, and smile when I see the older gentleman I always thought of as my grandfather figure. “Cookie!”
“Hey, girlie! Welcome home.” He rushes forward, opening his arms up for me.
I wrap him up in a hug and then pull back, looking up at the big, burly man. The years since I’ve been gone show in the deeper wrinkles on his face and the snow-white tint of his hair, but those kind brown eyes are still the same. “Thank you. I missed you.”
“Missed you too. Coffee? What do you want for breakfast? I figure being a big-city girl, your tastes may have changed.”
He’s right. A lot about me has changed, but there’s one breakfast that always makes my mouth water. “Same as always, Cook. Egg sandwich, tomatoes, hash browns, and coffee as black as my soul.”
He throws his head back, laughing. As he smiles over at me, for the first time, I feel like everything is going to be okay.
Cookie bustles around the kitchen with the same energy he’s always had, cracking eggs with practiced precision and sliding bread into the ancient toaster that’s been on this counter since I was ten years old.
The familiar sounds and smells wrap around me like a warm blanket, erasing the years and heartbreak that brought me back here.
“So,” he says, settling across from me with his own cup of coffee. “How’s it feel to be back?”
“Different than I expected.” I take a sip of the strong black coffee and sigh contentedly. “Good different, though. I forgot how peaceful it is here.”
“Peaceful’s one word for it,” Cookie chuckles. “Though I’d say it’s been anything but peaceful around here lately. Your brothers have been working themselves to the bone trying to keep both ranches running.”
A pang of guilt hits me. While I was off in the city, pursuing my own dreams and dealing with my own disasters, Truett was here carrying the weight of everything our parents left behind. “I should have come back sooner.”
“Nonsense.” Cookie waves a dismissive hand. “You needed to spread your wings, see what else was out there. Can’t fault a person for that. Besides, you’re here now when they need you most.”
The eggs sizzle in the pan, and Cookie flips them with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Speaking of which, how’d your evening go last night? I saw you and Jesse out on the swing.”
Heat creeps up my neck at the memory. That brief kiss has been replaying in my mind since the moment it happened. “It was…nice. We just talked.”
Cookie gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, understanding what people don’t say as much as what they do. “Jesse’s a good man. Loyal as they come. Been like family to us since your parents took him in.”
“I know.” The words come out softer than I intended.
Jesse has always been part of the landscape of this place, as permanent and solid as the mountains on the horizon.
But last night, something shifted. The way he looked at me, touched me—it wasn’t the same protective, brotherly affection I remembered from my teenage years.
Cookie slides my breakfast across the table, the egg sandwich perfectly constructed with thick slices of fresh tomato, and the hash browns golden and crispy just the way I like them.
“Eat up. Spring’s been mild so far, but we’re expecting a cold snap this weekend.
Need to make sure you’ve got your strength up for whatever work Truett has planned for you. ”
We talk about inconsequential things while I eat, the early wildflowers starting to bloom in the pastures, Cookie’s ongoing battle with the ranch’s ancient plumbing.
It’s comfortable, familiar conversation that doesn’t require me to think about complicated things like failed relationships or uncertain futures or the way Jesse’s green eyes seemed to see straight through me last night.
“This is exactly what I needed,” I tell Cookie as I finish the last bite of my sandwich.
“What’s that?”
“This. Normal. Just sitting here talking about whether the old water heater is going to make it through another winter.”
Cookie reaches over and pats my hand. “Sometimes normal is the most healing thing there is.”
Just as I’m draining the last of my coffee, Truett walks through the kitchen door, his hair still damp from a shower and his work shirt clean but already wrinkled from the morning’s activities.
“Morning, sis. Sleep okay?”
“Better than I have in months.” I stand up and carry my dishes to the sink, rinsing them out of habit more than necessity. Cookie always insists on doing the cleaning himself.
“Good. I’ve got you paired up with Jesse again today. Just until you get back into the swing of things.”
My stomach does a little flip at the mention of Jesse’s name, and I hope it doesn’t show on my face. “Sounds good.”
But Truett is already studying me with that big brother intuition that used to drive me crazy as a teenager. “Everything okay? You look a little flushed.”
“Just the coffee,” I lie, waving toward Cookie. “He still makes it strong enough to wake the dead.”
“That’s the only way to make coffee,” Cookie declares from where he’s already started washing my dishes, despite my protests.
Truett grins. “Well, Jesse’s probably waiting for you by now. He likes to get an early start.”
“I’ll head out there now.” I give Cookie another quick hug. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime, girlie. You just holler if you need anything.”
The morning air is crisp and clean, carrying the scent of hay and horses and the oncoming spring. The scent of grass hangs in the air, along with the dirt that’s always around. I’m halfway to the barn when I see Jesse walking toward me, and my breath catches in my throat.
How did I not notice yesterday how absolutely devastating he looks?
He’s always been handsome, tall, and lean, with those striking green eyes and that dark beard that frames his full mouth perfectly.
But there’s something different about him now, something more mature and confident that makes my pulse quicken.
His jeans hug his long legs, and his work shirt is rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms that flex as he adjusts his hat. When he sees me, those green eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me feel like he can see every thought I’ve ever had.
“Morning, Bree.”
“Morning.” My voice comes out breathier than I intended, and I clear my throat. “Ready to put me to work?”
Something flashes in his eyes. Amusement maybe, or something darker. “Always ready to work with you.”
The way he says it makes heat pool low in my belly, and I have to look away before I do something embarrassing like stare at his mouth and remember how it felt against my cheek last night.
He leads me into the barn, explaining which stalls need mucking out and where to find the tools.
It’s work I’ve done a thousand times before, work I did just yesterday, but I let him explain anyway, partly because I’m out of practice and partly because I like listening to his voice, deep and rough with that slight drawl that makes even mundane instructions sound sexy.
“I’ll start on this end,” I say, grabbing a pitchfork. “Work my way down.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be right across the aisle if you need anything.”
We fall into a comfortable rhythm, the familiar work coming back to me quickly. The physical labor feels good after years of sitting behind a desk, and I lose myself in the simple satisfaction of making tangible progress. Clean stall, fresh bedding, move on to the next one.
I’m bent over, spreading fresh straw in the third stall, when I feel eyes on me. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Jesse watching me with an expression that makes my skin tingle.
“I can feel you lookin’ at my ass,” I say, straightening up and turning to face him with a teasing smile.
His eyes darken, and he leans against his pitchfork with predatory grace. “Negative, Bree. I’d like to spank the hell out of it.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, sending heat racing through my veins and making my knees weak. The frank hunger in his voice, the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me—it’s nothing like the gentle, almost hesitant man who kissed me so softly last night.
“Jesse…” I breathe, not sure if it’s a warning or an invitation.
He straightens up, his jaw clenching like he’s fighting some internal battle. “Sorry. That was…inappropriate.”
“Was it?” I take a step closer to him, emboldened by the obvious effect I’m having on him. “Because I don’t think I minded.”
For a moment, the air between us crackles with tension so thick I can almost taste it. His green eyes search my face, and I can see the war between desire and restraint playing out in his expression.
Then, he takes a step back, putting distance between us. “We should get back to work.”
Part of me wants to push, to close the distance he just created and see what happens.
But the rational part of my brain knows he’s right.
I’m fresh off a devastating breakup, he works for my brother, and I’m in no position to make smart decisions about anything, let alone gorgeous cowboys who look at me like they want to consume me whole.
So I go back to mucking stalls, hyperaware of every movement he makes, every breath he takes. The work that felt meditative before now feels charged with electricity, every accidental brush of our hands when we pass each other sending sparks up my arm.
By lunchtime, I’m wound tighter than a spring and trying very hard not to think about exactly what Jesse might do if he decided to act on his threat about spanking me.
We break for sandwiches that Cookie packed for us, sitting on hay bales in the shade of the barn. The conversation stays safely on neutral topics—the weather, the cattle, plans for the upcoming week. But underneath the mundane words, I can feel a current of awareness humming between us.
“How long are you planning to stay?” Jesse asks as we finish eating.
“I don’t know yet.” It’s an honest answer. “As long as I’m needed, I guess. As long as I can be useful.”
“You’re always useful here, Bree. This is your home.”
There’s something in his voice. A warmth and certainty that makes my chest tight with emotion I’m not ready to examine too closely.
The afternoon passes in much the same way, working side by side, stealing glances when we think the other isn’t looking, the tension between us building with every passing hour.
By the time the sun starts sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, I’m exhausted from more than just physical labor.
“We should head up to the house,” Jesse says, checking his watch. “Cookie said dinner would be ready around six, and the other boys will be coming up to eat.”
“The other boys?”
“Denver and Austin. They don’t usually eat with the family, but Cookie insists when there’s company.” He gives me a small smile. “Apparently, you count as special company today.”
I laugh, turning to face him. “Cookie just needs an excuse to bring everybody together.” My phone vibrates. I pull it out of my back pocket, a smile working its way across my face as I see a text from Nora.
N
Girls’ night moved up. Meet me at the Rusty Spur?
Why the hell not?
A
I’ll be there!
As we walk toward the house, our hands brush accidentally, and I feel that same electric jolt I’ve been fighting all day. Jesse’s step falters slightly, and when I look up at him, his jaw is clenched tight.
This is going to be a long dinner.