Chuckling under his breath, Hunt came to a stop right next to Kennedy. “Nice to see you again, Kennedy.”
“Hunter, right?”
“Right. You thinking of riding George? He’s fantastic with beginners, but I’m afraid he and I have a date.”
“Oh?” Kennedy glanced away from Hunter and shot Maverick a quick glance, one that said, Guess I can’t prove it now.
“Where are you headed?” Maverick asked.
“To the pen. A couple of bridesmaids want to give riding a try.” Hunt looked directly at Kennedy when he added, “Mules are super smart and surefooted, and like I mentioned, great with novice riders. George, here, has been in the pen enough times that he knows exactly how to behave.”
Maverick opened the gate. “Have fun.”
“We will.” Hunter and George took their leave. “Oh, Kennedy,” Hunt called over his shoulder before rounding the barn, “you should go with Mav on his circuit today. He’d love the company.”
That rat fink. The last thing Maverick wanted was company, and his brother knew it.
“Circuit?” she asked.
“It’s nothing you’d be interested in.” He almost followed that with, Don’t you have a groom to talk to? But he bit his tongue. If she hung out with him, that meant she couldn’t stir up any trouble with the wedding.
She followed Maverick out of the barn. “You’re not worried I’ll ruin your circuit, are you?”
“Not at all. You want to tag along, it’s fine with me.” He climbed into the all-terrain golf cart he drove when checking on the trees. “Hop in.”
She sat down in the passenger seat. “No seatbelts?”
“Nope. Worried you’ll fall out?” A part of him did worry she might, so he’d drive a little slower than normal.
“No. I’m… I’ll just hold on here.” She wrapped her small hand around the metal seat handle. “Did you know, though, that all moving vehicles are supposed to be equipped with safety belts? They save lives.”
The worry in her voice hit him square in the chest. He imagined she’d seen her share of accidents in the ER, and her apprehension was justified.
“Noted, but we won’t be going very fast.”
“Have a helmet by any chance?”
He fought a smile. Again. She kept speaking and the corners of his mouth kept pressing up. “No helmet, either, but I promise you’ll be fine.” He reached under the seat for the red ball cap he’d left there.
“I better be.” She looked straight ahead, through the small windshield that kept bugs from flying into their faces.
“I’ve got this.” He offered her the hat. She shook her head so he ran a hand through his hair and put it on himself. “Hold on,” he said, taking it extra slow at the start. He’d never seen this side of Kennedy before, this more reticent side that offered a glimpse of someone who wasn’t as superhuman as she so often seemed.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He drove them away from the inn and the barn, down the wide, bumpy dirt road that saw a lot of traffic during the holidays. He hadn’t realized how bumpy until he noticed Kennedy’s white knuckles. To her credit, she didn’t say a word.
Wisps of her blond hair escaped her ponytail, and she sucked on her plump lower lip, so much so that he worried she might break the skin. He eased his foot off the accelerator. In theory, he had the rest of the afternoon to do this, so there was no reason to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was.
They rode up a hill, down the hill, up another, and at the peak, Kennedy let out a gasp. “You have Christmas trees. A million Christmas trees.”
He stopped the golf cart at one of the best views on the property, one he never got tired of taking in. The trees had more growing to do, but row after row of pine, their triangular shape pointing to a blue sky, took a person’s breath upon first sight.
“Not a million. But a lot.”
She spared him a quick glance as she said, “This is a Christmas tree farm, too?”
“It is. It makes up a huge part of our business in the winter.”
“How is that possible in such a small town?” She slid out of her seat to stand in front of the cart for an unfettered view.
He came to stand beside her. “We send trees all over the country.”
“To anyone famous?”
“Maybe.” They stared into the distance in comfortable silence for several minutes. When Kennedy wasn’t bombarding him with questions or combative looks, she wasn’t so bad. “Come on.”
They took the cart down the hill to the base of the tree farm.
“Wow,” Kennedy said, standing among the trees. “It’s so green and smells like Christmas on steroids.”
He glanced at her white sneakers. “Hope you don’t mind getting those dirty.”
“Not at all.”
Her answer surprised him. “Follow me, then.” He led her along the first row of trees at a slow pace as he examined each one they passed.
She watched him carefully. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for anything that can harm the trees.”
“Like?”
“Aphids and bark beetles mostly.”
She shivered, not because she was cold, but because her mind must have immediately gone to bugs landing on her—it happened to everyone he brought out here for the first time. They felt the phantom feet of insects on their arms, or the back of their necks, their ankles.
“Don’t worry. They’d much rather suck on bark than you.”
“Suck?” Her voice shook now, too. Hmm. Seemed Dr. Martin really didn’t like bugs.
“Just a figure of speech. They’re harmless to humans.” He slyly reached behind her and traced a fingertip along the back of her neck.
She jumped and shimmied around, her arms flailing, one hand wiping at her neck. “Get it off! Get if off!”
His chest rose and fell in silent laughter. Score one for the country boy.
Finding him amused, she stopped, narrowed her eyes. “You did that. Oh, you are so going to regret it.”
“Doubtful. Want to leave the ranch now?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
“For you,” she asserted, her entire demeanor changing right before his eyes. “Now, keep going. Are these a certain type of pine tree? What happens if you find bugs are infesting a tree? Do animals, like skunks or possums, get in here? What about birds? Do they make nests? What happens then?”
He pressed a finger to the side of his head. She peppered him with question after question, knowing full well it drove him crazy. Relax, dude. This is your backyard. You can talk about this in your sleep.
A change in his attitude did wonders. For one, it calmed him down. And for two, Kennedy no longer had the upper hand, and she knew it. She saw the minute he adjusted his composure meter—her steps had a little less pep and her questions were tempered with long seconds of blissful silence.
When he spotted a tear in the irrigation system, he kneeled to fix it. She knelt, too, her arm brushing his. This close, he caught a whiff of her scent again, a combination of vanilla and strawberries. She’d smelled the same back in college.
She watched him mend the hose with the tape he carried in his pocket. He’d come back later for a more permanent fix.
“Do you use pesticides on the trees?” she asked as they stood.
“We use our own.”
“Your own?”
“I’ve developed a safer substance, using salt in the irrigation system instead of chemicals.”
“Wow, that’s great. How does it work?”
They cleared a row, turned down another. “The salt absorbs the fluids that come from an insect’s body and they succumb to dehydration before they can damage the trees. It works especially well on spiders.”
; “And it doesn’t harm the trees?”
“No.”
“So, you might not be an animal doctor, but you are a tree doctor.”
He knew she meant it as a compliment, but it reminded him of what he’d lost. Who he’d lost. “That’s it for today,” he lied, because all of a sudden the thing he needed most was space and time alone.
Two years, nine months ago…
Dear Nicole,
It’s the first Christmas since you’ve been gone, and my family is waiting for me at Mom and Dad’s. I don’t know if I have the strength to go. I don’t know if I can be around Cole and Bethany and Jenna and not begrudge them something that was never in the cards for us. It’s not their fault, and yet it helps to find blame in safe places. My brothers have never loved me harder, no matter how awfully I speak to them. They put a damn Christmas tree up in my living room last week to knock some cheer into me. It didn’t work, but for them I pretended it did.
All the happy faces on the ranch this past month have been torture. It’s been our busiest tree season yet, and all I can think is I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be with you, working in our veterinary clinic during the day and sharing dinner in our tiny apartment overlooking downtown at night. That was our dream. It’s impossible for me to think of a new one. At least right now. Merry Christmas, Nicole.
Miss you like crazy,
Maverick
Chapter Eight
Five days until the wedding
Kennedy held on to the seat handle for dear life and pressed her feet flat on the floor of the golf cart to keep herself from bouncing. She’d never ridden a mechanical bull, but this seemed like a pretty close simulation. “Jeez, could you drive any faster?”
“I could,” Maverick said, not the least bit bothered by the bumps in the dirt road.
Grr. Whatever bug had crawled up his ass, it was lodged way up there. One minute they’d been having a polite, educational conversation and the next he’d turned rigid and quiet, clearly anxious to be free of her. He’d never been this hot and cold in college. Something besides herself, she’d hazard to guess, bothered him. He needed the worry stone in his car in his pocket today. “This isn’t the way we came.”
“It’s a shortcut.”
She laughed. It was either that or insult him for being the jerkiest of jerks. The man obviously wanted her out of his sight. He scowled at her, making her laugh harder.
The barn came into view. The ocean. A small hill to the south covered in pink and white flowers.
When Maverick came to an abrupt stop near the entrance to the inn, she almost asked him for that ride on George, just to mess with him.
Instead she said, “Thanks,” even though she didn’t think he deserved her good manners at the moment. “I liked seeing the trees and learning more about what you do here.” It had been a nice way to kill time until Reed texted her.
Maverick’s reply came in the form of a curt nod before he hit the gas pedal a half second after she’d cleared the cart. A puff of dust literally blew up into her face. She coughed and lifted her hand to give him the middle finger, but then the golf cart stopped.
He got out, his long, jean-clad legs eating up the distance between them. He lifted the faded red ball cap off his head, jammed his fingers through his light brown hair, and put the hat on backward. He wasn’t hiding his striking blue eyes. Wasn’t avoiding the glare she shot him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to stand an arm’s length in front of her. His sincerity made it difficult to stay angry with him.
“You should be,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
His eyes dipped down to her V-neck, then jumped back up to her face. “I am.” They stared at each other. “I’ll, uh, see you later. Enjoy your afternoon.”
She turned away at the same time he did, not sure what had just happened. She walked toward a random path to focus her thoughts on Reed instead of Maverick. At brunch earlier, he and Elle had looked in love, but she, better than anyone, knew that looks could be deceiving. She’d thought Trevor had loved her when in reality he’d been biding his time, waiting for someone special, and that someone turned out to be her sister. At least he’d had the decency to break up with her before dating Victoria. And the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” speech dropped the sting of rejection from a ten to a seven. But still. He’d damaged her trust, and if that was Reed’s issue, she could more than relate.
“And, Kennedy?” Maverick said, stopping her in her tracks. “I think you should stay out of it.”
She twisted back around. “It?”
“The wedding. You need to leave Reed and Elle alone. Let them make their own decisions.”
“Don’t you have trees to get back to?”
“They’re not going anywhere.”
“No, but I am. Away from you, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“The inn has a reputation to uphold. ”
“I know, but is that more important than someone’s happiness?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“Okay, how about this… What makes you an expert on Reed?”
“He’s my friend and…” She didn’t want to talk about the details. She didn’t owe Maverick an explanation. “He’s confided certain things to me.”
“Was he drunk when he did?”
How did he know that? She kept her face blank. “Now you’re the expert?”
He walked toward her. “I know a thing or two.”
“About love and marriage?”
His step faltered. It was subtle, barely there, but she saw it. More importantly, she felt it. Like the ground had shifted under his feet against his will.
Working in the ER had been her entire life for three years. And during that time she’d learned to read people. What they said and didn’t say. Their expressions. Their body language and involuntary motions. Had Maverick been married?
“Don’t.” One word. That’s all he gave her before turning to leave.
Good.
She didn’t want to know what nerve she’d struck. Or what exactly he meant by “don’t.” Don’t talk to him anymore? Don’t talk to Reed? She strode down a wide, tree-lined path and took a seat on a wooden bench, forcing her thoughts back to Reed’s confession. His asking her to stay. Thanks for sticking around. She might not be invited to the wedding, but he wanted her close by. And if he needed her reassurance that Elle was the one, or to drive the getaway car if she wasn’t, Kennedy would put the pedal to the metal.
A text sounded on her phone, interrupting visions of speeding down the highway, Reed grateful she’d helped him run away. She pulled the cell from her pocket and grinned at the names on the screen.
Hugo & Maria
Hugo had come into the ER with his mom after fainting while at a birthday party. He’d been jumping in a bounce house and collapsed—not a typical occurrence for an otherwise healthy twelve-year-old. Then while sitting on the hospital bed telling her all about the party and how Iron Man was the greatest of all superheroes, Hugo fainted again, only this time it was accompanied by a seizure.
When Hugo came to, Kennedy immediately listened to his heart. Fast, chaotic beats had told her they needed an EKG stat. If Hugo’s heart beat erratically for too long, it could cause sudden death. Memories of her own near-death experience had hit her so swiftly at that moment that there was no way she was leaving Hugo’s side until they got a diagnosis and knew how to make him better.
It turned out Hugo had long QT syndrome, or LQTS, a heart rhythm condition that occurs during physical exertion or emotional excitement. He’d been a trouper through test after test until she was satisfied with a course of action. Luckily, one of the best pediatric cardiologists in the country worked at the hospital, and she’d put the two of them together.
She and Hugo had bo
nded over more than superheroes and heart scares at a young age. They also shared a love for quesadillas, hip-hop music, and magic. Maria always had a deck of cards in her purse, and to kill time while they’d waited for test results and kept a close eye on Hugo, he’d dazzled them with card tricks. For the past year they’d kept in close touch, talking almost weekly.
Kennedy hoped to one day be invited to his wedding.
Hi Dr. Martin, mom got me the new Criss Angel Ultimate Magic Kit!
Hi Hugo! That is awesome.
Are u still coming to my birthday party? I’ll do some of the new tricks for u
Of course I’ll be there. I’m bringing the disappearing ice cream.
He texted back a zany face emoji. Much better than the face with rolling eyes he sent last week.
Say hi to your mom and I’ll see you soon. You’re staying out of trouble, right?
Mostly
Mostly?
I rode my bike a little too much yesterday
Because Hugo’s heart had never returned to a normal rhythm by itself, two days after his visit to the ER, he had a pacemaker put in. His heart wasn’t strong enough to withstand future physical activities without some support, and even then they had to be kept to a minimum. He’d been devastated to hear he had to give up playing soccer, but the good news was he would continue to grow and thrive with the condition. He just had to be aware of his limitations.
Happens to the best of us. And he was the best. She loved him and felt protective of him like she would a younger brother.
She placed her phone on the bench and put her hand over her heart. Back then, she hadn’t told Hugo and Maria the whole truth about her experience in the ER, only what they’d needed to hear to form a connection. What she’d needed to share to let Hugo know he wasn’t alone. Feeling the slow beat inside her chest now, she could still remember both the erratic beat of her heart and the plummeting, free-fall feeling. The “Code Blue.”
“Hey, you okay?”
She blinked and looked up in surprise at Maverick. He didn’t look like he wanted to fight anymore. Instead, he kneeled down in front of her and swiped his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a lone tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.
The Wedding Crasher and the Cowboy Page 7