Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Beckett
“There you are!” Ma’s voice rang across the lobby of the Lodge.
I froze and turned to face the direction where I’d heard her voice.
She was behind the check-in desk with Kris and Shannon.
Kris was our new events manager, and Shannon was the woman who ran the check-in desk and had been with the Ashland Ranch and Lodge for years.
When I asked Noah why he hadn’t promoted Shannon instead of hiring someone new, he’d told me that Shannon preferred the hours of the front desk and didn’t want to change things.
She had young kids in school and the hours we needed worked for her schedule.
Couldn’t argue with that, so Noah had found and hired Kris.
The youngest of us, Noah was still in the process of taking over managing the Lodge from our mother.
He had shared his plans for some updates and renovations but had sworn us to secrecy until our mother officially stepped back.
Thatch and I had warned him to tell her about his plans, at least in vague terms, but it was up to Noah to follow through with that.
This morning, however, I knew our mother would be working on the Summer Kickoff Party with Kris. I also knew I did not want to be wrangled into doing something to help with planning.
“Hey, Ma.” I waved and started to walk backwards. “I have a call to make –” Not entirely true. I did want to send Clara a message to see if she wanted burgers or something else for dinner tonight, since I’d need to order it ahead of time.
“Beckett, you get your rear over here right now.” Even at a height of only five foot four inches, Nora Ashland commanded a room. Hell, she’d done the bulk of raising three rowdy boys while our father did his best to work on the ranch while also keeping a job in town as a postal worker.
Shamed just at the tone of her voice, I strode across the lobby and walked behind the check-in desk. “What can I help you with, Ma?”
She motioned to Kris, who asked, “Are you going into town today by chance?”
“I am,” I said, trying not to think about Clara and what might be waiting for me in town.
“Would you mind picking up a few things? We’re having a raffle this year to raise money for the high school band and I need a few things from some business owners that can’t drop them off.”
“Sure, what do you need?”
After Kris explained what I needed to do and who I needed to see and speak to, my mother pulled me aside to a small alcove.
“Why did I get a phone call from Ms. May that you were coming out of Clara’s apartment early this morning?”
Oh.
“Ma, wh–”
“Beckett Sutter Ashland, you had better not be doing what I think you’re doing with that girl.”
Disbelief and anger flashed through me, but I wrangled them under control and kept my voice calm. “Hey, now, wait a second.”
“If you’re stringing that sweet girl along or playing with her feelings, so help me Beckett, I will –”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Ma, I’m in love with her.”
Delight lit up my mother’s eyes, a light shade of blue like Thatcher’s. “What did you say?”
“I love her. Not just as my best friend, but the woman I want to spend my life with.”
Ma smiled, and a knowing look crossed her face. “Good. It’s about time you figured it out.”
“What?”
“Son, you’ve been in love with Clara since you were both nine years old.
Of course, back then it was just a puppy love, a sense of safety and loyalty to each other.
Then for some reason you backed off when you were a teenager, but I’ve known it since you were kids.
” She patted me on the cheek, the rose scent of her favorite lotion floating around me.
“Not that you need it, but you have my blessing.”
She held her finger up and pointed at me, her stern expression the same as when we’d get in trouble as kids. I gulped, even as a grown man I knew not to mess with my mother. “Don’t mess it up.”
My mouth agape, she turned and left me standing there. I blinked a few times to clear the shock from my mind and went to finish the few things left to do on the ranch before heading into town.
I had errands to run for Kris, plus my own before dinner at Clara’s. I was already impatient to see her, which had never happened with any other person I’d dated.
It didn’t matter what we did – watch a movie, talk, sit in silence, end up in bed together – whatever she wanted to do, I was game. I just wanted to be near her.
I was such a dumbass for waiting so long to act on my feelings. The only thing I could do now was apologize for being so obtuse and spend whatever time she’d give me making her happy. That sounded like the perfect way to spend my life.
A few hours later, Clara was curled up on the couch, her head on my lap, while a movie we’d seen a dozen times played.
Over the burgers, fries, and chocolate shake I’d picked up from The Hideout, one of our favorite local spots, Clara told me about her goals for the store for the summer season.
It had been busy today, and the summer season for tourists was about to pick up, which was great for a boutique like Clara’s.
She kept the shelves full of creations from local artisans and some of the kind of trinkets that are popular with tourists.
I loved listening to her talk about the store and watching her hands move and flow as she spoke.
Her idea for some pop-up art workshop events was a good one, a tourist-friendly version of events where attendees paint a pre-determined piece and have some drinks.
Over the last hour or so, I barely paid attention to the movie. Instead, I focused wholly on running my fingers through her hair, then down her side and back.
We’d been friends for long enough that it wasn’t the first time she’d used my lap as a pillow, nor the first time I’d played with her hair. But it was the first time I allowed myself to truly indulge in it and savor the softness of her hair.
I lost track of time, until Clara yawned.
“I love it when you play with my hair.” She made a soft noise of contentment that went straight to my chest.
Clara had been branded on my heart and soul for so long and having her in my life was like breathing. Natural and impossible to live without. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner. “I’ll play with your hair anytime you ask, little wren.”
“You’re still calling me that.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I’d called her that since the day she’d so fiercely protected my youngest brother from bullies.
She shrugged, the movement awkward from where she laid. “Don’t couples use cheesy nicknames for each other? Like ‘baby’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘pookie’?”
“I’ve always called you my little wren. I don’t think I need to stop using it for something unfamiliar simply because we’re … exploring new territory.”
She was quiet for long enough that I got nervous.
“Is that all we’re doing? Just ‘exploring’? Or is this more?”
My heart dropped at her first question. I was such a dumbass and needed to choose my words better. I wanted to pull her closer, but she’d sat up and moved to the cushion on the other side of the couch. It wasn’t far with just one empty cushion between us, but it felt like miles.
I didn’t know what to say for a second and just sat there like a moron, searching for words. Any words.
“Clara, no. I’m sorry. I – I’m bad with words. I do want more. I’m selfish, really.”
“What does that mean?” Her voice was soft. My chest tightened at the hint of sadness and fear in her voice.
I knew if I didn’t confess everything I felt, I’d lose her.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen. Maybe earlier than that. I want everything with you. I want our friendship as the unbreakable foundation for a forever kind of love. The kind they write stories about. But I will take whatever you are willing to give me.”
I held my breath and placed my hand in the empty space between us, palm up, an invitation.