Chapter 2 #2
"You didn't need to worry, Gran. I was hauling our best breeders, so I was taking it slow and easy.
" I cross the room and bend to kiss her cheek, breathing in her gardenia perfume.
"Everything went fine with the drive and the hands have already unloaded the horses.
Then Wade showed me some of the changes they've made to the training facilities since I've been gone. "
"You always were the responsible one," she murmurs fondly, patting my hand.
Rachel rolls her eyes with theatrical flair. "And there it is. That took all of thirty seconds."
"You’re just jealous of my awesomeness," I reply, settling into a chair across from them.
"I'm not jealous. I'm just waiting for the day you slip up and join the rest of us mortals."
I snort, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't hold your breath, Brat. You'll turn blue. Everyone knows I'm the good twin."
Rachel throws a decorative pillow at me. I catch it easily and tuck it behind my head, earning a fresh eye roll.
"I don't play favorites," Gran declares with the serene confidence of someone who absolutely plays favorites. "Charles simply causes me less trouble. It's mathematics, not preference, Rachel."
I bite back a grin as Rachel presses a hand to her chest in mock offense. "Less trouble? He just uprooted your entire life and moved you across the country."
"At my request." Gran removes her reading glasses and fixes Rachel with a look. "Charles has been running our family business since he was eighteen, while you were busy running around the country kissing cowboys instead of picking up the phone. I can't tell you the sleepless nights I had."
I stretch out my legs, enjoying the rhythm of their banter. "Quit complaining, Gran. You approve of the result. I saw you and Alice on your first visit to the Freeman Ranch. You two huddled together like generals planning a campaign. I'm still not sure what you were scheming."
"Alice Freeman is a treasure," Gran states firmly. "And we were planning a wedding menu, not scheming, thank you."
"I think it was more gossiping than anything else," Rachel teases. "I heard you two cackling about Mason's rodeo days."
"That was research, dear," Gran corrects. "I needed to know what kind of man my granddaughter was marrying."
Gran turns her attention back to me. "Now then. Tell me how things went in Kentucky. Were there any issues with the closing?"
"It went smooth as silk," I explain. "The buyers didn't negotiate down. The inspections came back clean, and we closed right on schedule. We got exactly what we asked for on the property. It couldn't have gone any better."
Gran's brows rise. "They paid the full asking price with no last-minute games?"
"They didn't even try," I reply. "We were really lucky.
The buyers were a young couple from Louisville who'd been looking for an established horse property.
They knew what they were getting and were willing to pay for it.
" I shrug. "Honestly, this was the easiest real estate transaction of my life. "
"I don't believe in luck, Charles." There's a gleam in Gran's eye that suggests otherwise. "I believe in proper preparation and fair pricing."
"Well, it certainly paid off. The staging you insisted on added fifty thousand to the final number."
"Of course it did. Presentation matters." Gran settles back against the cushions. "I'm glad there were no complications. I was prepared to fly back if those buyers tried anything foolish."
"I had it handled, Gran."
"I know you did, dear. But I was ready nonetheless."
Rachel catches my eye and mouths "brown nose", rubbing the end of her nose with exaggerated emphasis. I respond by settling deeper into the chair with a smug grin that makes her throw another pillow.
"Children," Gran observes, though her lips twitch with barely suppressed amusement. "We're supposed to be celebrating Charles's homecoming, not reenacting your teenage years."
"She started it," I protest.
"I certainly did not."
"Enough," Gran's voice, though softened by fondness in her eyes, carries enough steel to silence us both. "Rachel, don't you have something to tell your brother?"
The shift in the room is immediate. Rachel's playful look softens, and she straightens on the couch with careful movements.
"Charlie," she begins, and her voice makes me go still. She takes a breath, her hands clasped together in her lap. "I wanted to wait until you were here, until we were all together."
Gran reaches over and takes Rachel's hand. I notice my grandmother's eyes are already shining.
"What's going on, Rach?" I ask, though I think I know what my twin is about to announce.
Rachel's face breaks into a radiant smile, one hand moving to rest on her stomach. "I'm pregnant."
The words hang in the air for a heartbeat while I process them. Then I let out a whoop that probably startles the horses in the barn, shooting to my feet with a grin that splits my face in two. Gran smiles serenely, clearly having known the news already.
"I'm four months along," Rachel continues, her voice cracking just with emotion. "His due date is September fourth. Mason and I wanted to keep it quiet until we'd passed all the important tests and checkpoints."
I cross to where Rachel sits, pulling her into a hug that's careful and reverent, and press a kiss to her temple.
"That's incredible, Rach," I murmur against her hair. "I'm assuming it's a boy, then?"
"Yes. Mason is over the moon about it. Evie doesn't quite understand yet, but she keeps patting my belly when I tell her there's a baby in there."
I laugh. "I'll help my niece figure it out. You tell her Uncle Charlie is here to take care of her, and that she's going to be the best big sister this baby could ask for."
Over dinner, Rachel pushes her brisket around her plate and wrinkles her nose. "I can't eat this. It smells like burnt rubber."
Gran frowns. "But you love brisket."
"That was before. Now it's disgusting." She reaches for the mashed potatoes instead and loads her plate. "These are perfect, though. I could eat the entire bowl."
Gran dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief, though she's smiling. "I remember those days. When I was pregnant with your father, I couldn't stand the smell of coffee for six months."
"Really?" Rachel grimaces. "I don’t think I could handle a coffee hiatus."
"Your grandfather thought it was hilarious until I banned him from drinking it in the house." Gran's eyes get that distant look they always do when she talks about the man she loved for fifty years. "He had to sneak down to the barn every morning for his cup."
Rachel laughs. "Mason's already learned not to cook bacon when I'm around. Cody thinks I've lost my mind. "
"What does Cody think about another sibling?" I grin at the image of my fifteen-year-old nephew as a big brother.
"Beyond excited and already planning everything he's going to teach his little brother. He's already picking out names and wants to call him Wyatt or Jesse."
"Those are good choices," Gran says, dabbing at her eyes again.
"We're not naming him after a gunfighter, Gran," Rachel says, but her voice is gentle.
The conversation flows through nursery expansion plans, Rachel's determination to keep working at the ranch despite Mason's concerns, and Cody's insistence on building a crib himself.
After dessert, Rachel pushes back from the table and reaches for her keys. "I should get home before Evie convinces Mason she needs ice cream for dinner."
I stand and pull her into a hug. "I'll come by the Lazy Fork tomorrow."
"You'd better." She squeezes me once more, then turns to kiss Gran's cheek. "Thank you for dinner."
"Drive safely, dear," Gran says.
I walk Rachel to her truck and watch her taillights disappear down the drive before heading back inside.
Gran is already making her way toward the stairs, one hand on the railing. She pauses, glancing at me. "I'm so glad you're home, Charles. To have you and your sister together again…" Her voice catches. "It's more than I dared to hope for."
"Goodnight, Gran."
"Goodnight, dear."
I make my way to the balcony outside my bedroom with a whiskey in hand, staring out over the land.
My eyes burn and my shoulders ache, but I'm not ready for sleep yet. The pastures stretch out before me in shades of silver under the moonlight. Somewhere in the barn, Wade is finishing up for the day, his gruff voice carrying faintly on the breeze.
I rest my head back and let my gaze drift across the night sky.
The stars look different here, brighter somehow, more scattered across the darkness than they ever were in Kentucky.
My attention wanders toward the eastern edge of the property, where the faint glow of lights in the distance marks the vast vineyards of Willow Sage Winery.
Wade had pointed them out when we walked the property line.
I roll the whiskey glass between my palms. Tomorrow I'll head over to the Lazy Fork to see Rachel and the family. No more hauling trailers across state lines and turning right around. No more planning visits weeks in advance. It's just twenty minutes down the road now.
That thought takes me somewhere I wasn't planning to go.
An old Ford truck on the shoulder, a blonde braid swinging with every failed attempt at that tire iron, and blue eyes sharp enough to cut a man down where he stood.
She said we'd see each other around Stone Creek. Maybe then I’ll finally get her name.