Chapter 20
Charlie
Sunny is coming to stay the night, and I have been literally useless all day.
Not that I'd admit it to anyone currently on this property. Wade would never let me live it down, Oscar would raise one eyebrow in that reserved but devastating way of his, and Gran would simply say I told you so with a look that could strip wallpaper.
But the truth is that I've spent the last three hours in the training facility running horses through their paces.
The entire time, only forty percent of my brain was engaged in the work and the remaining sixty percent was devoted to the woman who agreed, after days of negotiations that would have exhausted a diplomat, to bring an overnight bag to Twin Oaks.
Sunny has no problem kissing me on her front porch, making love to me in every room in her house, and telling me she loves me in a hotel room in Sonoma. But the idea of spending the night at the ranch with my grandmother one floor below sends her into a tailspin.
I countered every objection with patience, humor, and the occasional reminder that Gran's bedroom is on the opposite side of the house and she wouldn’t hear a thunderclap if it happened outside her window.
By Thursday, Sunny was running out of reasons to say no.
And yesterday, she finally texted me a single word.
Fine.
I give the last horse a final brush and hang the tack on its peg, then stand in the barn aisle and take stock of myself.
My shirt is plastered to my back with sweat, my jeans have a smear of something green across one thigh that I'd rather not identify, and I smell like a man who has spent seven hours in close proximity to large animals in the Texas heat.
This is not the version of Charlie Hayden that should be greeting anyone, let alone the woman I love.
I cross the yard at a pace that borders on jogging and take the stairs two at a time.
The shower runs hot, and I stand under the spray longer than usual, letting the water work the knots from my shoulders while my mind runs ahead to the evening.
By the time I towel off and pull on clean jeans and a dark henley, the restlessness has given way to a hum of pure anticipation.
I'm halfway down the stairs, running a hand through my damp hair, when Gran's voice reaches me from the back of the house.
"Charles. Come here for a moment."
I follow the sound through the main hall and down the corridor that leads to her suite.
Gran's apartment occupies the far corner of the first floor, a comfortable sitting room with a small sofa and a rocking chair, and a large bedroom with tall windows that overlook the north pasture.
The door is open, and I find her standing near the closet beside her antique jewelry box.
The piece is mahogany, standing nearly four feet tall, with carved filigree along the edges and a hinged mirror that Gran keeps angled just so.
"When is Sunny arriving?" Gran asks without turning around. Her fingers move through the top drawer of the box.
"She should be here soon. She had to finish up a bottling run to fulfill the new distribution orders at the winery first."
"Good. I want to show you something." Gran reaches inside. When she turns to face me, her palm is extended, and the object resting in it catches the lamplight and sends a scatter of green fire across the wall.
The ring is breathtaking. An antique gold band set with a large emerald that glows with the deep, saturated color of old money, flanked by two substantial diamonds. The setting is detailed and elegant, built for forever.
"This was my grandmother's wedding ring," Gran says.
Her voice is matter-of-fact, but her eyes are luminous with emotion.
"She wore it for fifty years. When she passed, it came to me, and I wore it for my entire marriage to your grandfather.
" She turns the ring slowly between her fingers.
"Forty-two years, Charles. This ring never left my hand until the day we buried him. "
My throat has gone tight. "Gran, what are you doing?"
"I'm giving you a ring." She holds it out to me, her small hand unwavering. "It's time it found a new finger to grace."
"Gran." I take a step back and hold up both hands. "Sunny and I have only been dating for a couple of months. We're nowhere near that conversation."
Gran waves a hand as though I've just told her something trivially irrelevant, like the weather forecast or the price of feed.
"Your grandfather and I only knew each other for six weeks before we were wed.
We had a beautiful marriage, a lifetime of laughter and love.
" She steps closer and takes my hand, pressing the ring into my palm.
The gold is warm to the touch. "I'm not telling you to propose tomorrow.
I'm telling you to have it ready for when the time is right. "
"How do you know the time will come?"
"Anyone with eyes knows, Charles." Her voice carries the absolute certainty of a woman who has never once been wrong about people.
"That young lady is something special and the way you look at her tells me you know it.
I want to see that for you, Charles. The kind of love your grandfather and I had.
The kind that fills a house and outlasts everything that tries to break it.
" She squeezes my hand around the ring. "That girl is your match. "
I stare at the ring in my palm. The emerald glints against my skin, and the weight of the ring is more than the gold.
"Take it," Gran says, her tone softening. "Put it somewhere safe. And when you're ready, you'll know."
Before I can respond, the sound of the front door opening reaches us, followed by Oscar's measured voice drifting down the hallway. "Good evening, Miss Sunny. Welcome. May I take your bag?"
Gran's face transforms. The gravity of the moment vanishes, replaced by the particular brightness she reserves for the people she has decided belong to her. She pats my arm and sweeps past me toward the front of the house.
I tuck the ring into the front pocket of my jeans and follow her out.
By the time I reach the front hall, Gran has already taken possession of Sunny, pulling her into a hug that Sunny returns with delight. Oscar disappears up the staircase with her overnight bag, headed for the room across the hall from mine, and the sight of that bag in Oscar's hands makes me grin.
Sunny catches my eye over Gran's shoulder, and the smile she gives me is full and warm. She's wearing jeans and a white cotton shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders, and she looks like everything I've ever wanted standing in my front hall.
"There he is," Sunny says.
"Here I am." I cross to her and press a kiss to her mouth. "How was your day?"
"Long. But the bottling went off without a hitch. The Roussanne is being temperamental, and Diego and I spent two hours debating a new blend." She leans into me, and her fingers lace through mine. "But I'm here now."
"You are." I thread my fingers through hers.
"Now then." Gran claps her hands together with the brisk efficiency of a woman marshaling troops. "You two go enjoy your ride before the light is gone. Oscar already has dinner going."
We head out across the yard, and Sunny tugs my hand toward the duck enclosure before I can steer us to the barn.
Gerald spots her from the bridge and launches himself off the railing with a graceless flap, waddling toward the gate at a pace bordering on frantic.
Karen lifts her head from the water and follows, and within seconds most of the flock converges on the fence line, quacking at her absence.
Sunny crouches at the gate and opens it, and Gerald pushes through immediately, nudging her palm with his bill. She scratches the top of his head, and the duck leans into her hand with a trill that sounds disgustingly content.
"Hey, sweet boy. Did you miss me?"
Kevin watches from the far bank, registering his objections one quack at a time. Sunny extends one hand in his direction without looking up. Kevin waddles over, grunting his pleasure, and settles beside her boot.
"You've got that duck wrapped around your finger," I mutter.
Sunny glances up at me. "I told you before, Kevin just needs someone who isn't afraid of him."
"Kevin needs a therapist and a time-out corner. Either that or an exorcism."
She laughs, and I feel it in my chest the way I always do. We spend a few minutes with the flock before I pull her gently to her feet and nod toward the barn.
Pearl nickers when we walk in, her dapple-gray head swinging toward Sunny. I lean against the stall and watch Sunny saddle Pearl by herself. Her movements are confident and sure, and pride swells in my chest.
I saddle Colby, and we ride out through the south gate as the late afternoon light softens into honeyed gold. We follow a trail that meanders along the property line, winding between stands of live oaks and crossing a shallow creek bed where the horses pick their way through the rocks.
We climb a gentle slope, and I guide Colby toward a hilltop that I ride to when I need to think.
From here, the land drops away on three sides, rolling pastures and distant ridgelines visible in every direction.
I dismount and loop Colby's reins around a low branch, then help Sunny down from Pearl.
My grip spans her waist as she slides to the ground, and her touch lingers on my shoulders for a beat longer than necessary.
We settle in the grass near the crest, the horses grazing a few yards away.
The breeze is gentle and carries the scent of wildflowers, and the only sounds are the distant call of a hawk and the soft tearing of grass as the horses graze.
Sunny tucks herself against my side, her head resting against my shoulder, and the quiet between us is the kind that doesn't need filling.