by Olivia Hayle
“How long?”
I pretend to consider it. “A month.”
Sophia makes the decision. “We’re in.”
We head to the kitchen and began a painstaking debate about what flavors to choose. I grab two chocolate ones for me and Lucy. I don’t know what she likes, but hell, no one can say no to chocolate.
Nora giggles. “Uncle, you can’t have two ice creams.”
“One is for Lucy. She’s the nice lady you bought cookies from. She works here too.”
“She does?” Sophia looks around the kitchen, as if expecting Lucy to pop out from beneath a counter. “Where?”
“Out by the spa. It’s on the other side of the ranch. Let’s go give her ice-cream and stop by the horses on our way back.”
It’s an even lousier trick—if there’s one thing the girls can never say no to, it’s the horses—but it gets exactly the response I expected. Both girls grin, ecstatic. I’m gaining massive uncle points today.
I carry Nora and grab Sophia’s hand. She’s holding a small basket with our ice-cream in the other, her expression proud.
I stop by the stairs to the office and call up. “Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m taking the girls out to see the horses. We’ll be around the eastern part for a bit.”
“Thanks, Ollie!”
We amble slowly across the ranch. The place is bustling with activity today, with busy preparations for the wedding season. The first wedding is only a week away and everything needs to be in order. Mini fridges for the outdoor bar just arrived and I can see Tim and Jack sorting through the huge number of chairs we have stocked for the outdoor ceremony.
Nora tugs at a strand of my hair again. “Why doesn’t Sophia or me have this color?”
Sophia looks up at her sister. “Because Mom and Dad don’t.”
“It’s genetic,” I say. “But your mom is my sister, and we had the same parents. So technically, either of you might have had it. Maybe your kids will in turn. Who knows?”
“Ge-ne-tic,” Nora spells out. “Genetic, genetic, genetic.”
Great. Now she’s going to be stuck on that word for a week. I give her a little bounce. “It’s a big word, kiddo. I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.”
We turn a corner and walk under the leafy trees that surround the spa. Sophia tugs at my hand. “I’ve never been this far away from the main house before.”
“No, we didn’t use this part a lot before Lucy came.”
“The spaaaa,” Nora drawls. “Mom said it’s a spaaaa.”
I smile at her exaggerated tone. “A spa, yes. Where people relax.”
We reach the spa fifteen minutes past one. I know the client will be gone by then, but I’m counting on Lucy staying behind for a bit. She usually does.
Sophia races up the stairs. She stops on the top step, her hand poised, and shoots me a questioning look.
“Go on. You can knock.”
She knocks softly, but Lucy hears. “Come on in!”
Sophia tugs the door open and peers inside. I stick my head in, too, Nora dangling from my arms. The place looks immaculate.
"Hi, there! I'll be with you in just a moment! Feel free to have a seat."
The chipperness in her voice makes my chest tight. She’s always unfailingly happy and dedicated to cheering others up. It was less than a week ago that her smile had been turned on me and me alone.
“We’re not customers.”
She peeks out of the supply closet, her expression unreadable. “Oh.” Her head disappears again, and a moment later she reappears with a stack of towels in her arms. A blonde strand of hair has escaped from her ponytail. She aims a blinding smile at the kids. “Hi!”
Nora waves. “Hello!”
“We brought ice cream.” Sophia lifts up her basket.
Lucy’s eyes meet mine. I see the calculation there, the insight. She knows what I’ve done, but she also knows there’s no escape. I shrug. What’s a man to do?
Her indecision only lasts a moment. “You did? That’s amazing! I love ice cream.”
“We chose chocolate,” Nora adds.
“Thank you.”
“Let’s sit outside?” I nod towards the bench. “The weather’s nice.”
“Yes, I’ll be there in a second.”
It’s hot in the shade, but bearably so. I pull Nora onto my lap and help her with the wrapping paper.
“Did you sell a lot of cookies?” Sophia asks. “At the fair?”
Lucy nods. “Yes, a whole lot. Nearly two hundred.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yes, Scout’s honor.”
Nora is quiet, completely absorbed in her ice cream, but she perks up at this. “How many did you eat?”
“Me I ate two.”
Nora shakes her head. “I’d eat a hundred if I worked there.”
I shake my head too, pretending to be disappointed. “What a waste,” I tell Lucy. “A waste.”
Her gaze rests on mine for the first time since we’ve sat down. There’s carefulness there, yes, but also amusement. It’s more than I could’ve hoped for.
“Really? Would you have eaten more?”
I open my mouth to reply but Sophia beats me to it. “Uncle Ollie can eat so much. Like, this much.” She holds out her hands a couple of feet apart. Lucy laughs, the sound spreading warmth through me.
“Really? That’s a lot!”
“Mom says it’s because of his metallic rate,” Sophia says. She whispers the mistaken word like it’s a disease.
“Thanks for ratting me out, kid,” I tell her, but I pat her on the head to make sure she knows I’m joking.
Lucy’s lips tug at the corners as she shoots me another look. “His metabolic rate? Well, adults do need more food than kids.” She tweaks Sophia’s nose. “And men usually need more than women.”
Nora hands me her finished popsicle stick and leans back against me. She's growing big, too, her little body heavier than I'm used to. It feels like just yesterday that Sarah announced she was going to marry John.
“You full?”
She nods and reaches up to put her sticky hand in my hair. It’s become her thing, lately. Maybe Austin and I are becoming mutually interchangeable—hard to tell apart.
“Pretty uncle,” she murmurs, as if by reflex.
Lucy’s warm smile right then could break my heart. Her features are soft, her eyes softer still, one of her hands resting on Sophia’s back.
“He is pretty,” she agrees.
I’m not entirely sure that’s the way I want to be described, not by Lucy, but I’ll take it.
Sophia looks up at me. Her face is scrunched in an intense look of concentration. “You do have really pretty hair.”
“Ge-ne-tic,” Nora murmurs.
“I had a buzz cut for many, many years. It used to be this short,” I tell them, holding up my thumb and index finger barely a hairsbreadth apart.
Sophia’s eyes are huge. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“What did it feel like?”
“Like a carpet. Maybe I should cut it again, actually. It’s getting long.”
There’s a chorus of protest from the girls—from all three of them.
I look up at Lucy. “No?”
There’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “No. This suits you.”
“Alright, then. I won't cut it.”
Nora sags in relief and Sophia shoots me an approving thumbs-up, the cutie.
Lucy asks the girls about their summer and the fair, and I listen to her soft voice. She might not be talking to me, and I haven't been able to ask for her forgiveness yet, but still… being near her is like a balm to my soul.
Sophia is describing her new scooter when Nora starts squirming in my lap.
“Look! Look!” She slides off and races down the path. Austin is bounding towards us, just as eager as she is.
Lucy laughs. “I was just wondering where your constant companion was!”
Sophia puts her ice cream wrapper down carefully on the bench before she runs after her sister. Lucy and I watch as they take turns petting a very happy Austin. He’s on his back, mouth open and his tongue out, getting belly rubs.
He's in heaven.
Lucy smiles. “They're wonderful.”
“They are.”
“But don't think you can fool me, by the way. I know what this is.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “An elaborate ambush.”
I move closer to her on the bench. “I was an ass. I jumped to conclusions, I ignored you, and I'm sorry.”
She crosses her legs. With her hair back and her white button-down, she looks clean, and proper. Too beautiful to be real. "I understand," she says softly. "It was a misunderstanding. I’m sure I would have come to the same conclusions if I was you."
“Yes. Are we okay?”
She nods. “We’re okay.”
“Tell me about the client you just had.”
“You already know who it was.”
“Still.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “It was a guest from Acton. Don't think I didn't see it on the booking. Someone had even written it in the margins.”
“I figured you'd want to know.”
“It turned out that she taught chemistry in my old high school, although it was before my time. She had some inflammation in one of her trapezoids. I told her to see a chiropractor.”
“Have you ever thought about becoming a physical therapist?”
She nods, a distant look on her face as she watches the girls try to play fetch with Austin. “Yes, I’ve actually thought about it a great deal.”
“You'd be great at it.”
“You think?”
“Yes. You've got the touch.”
She pulls her legs up and rests her chin on bent knees. Her gaze is open and earnest as she looks at me. “Why’d you name him Austin?”
I clear my throat and look away from her eyes. Sometimes it feels like she sees right through me. “It’s where I signed up. It's also where I was on bed rest after my final deployment.”
Long lashes sweep down and her soft lips part. I wish I could pull her close and wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Why did you decide to leave the Marines? Did you miss this place too much? I know I would've."
The unease is back in my stomach, but I'm not going to run this time. “I was injured, and I’d already served for damn near a decade. Figured it was time.”
“Your shoulder?”
I nod.
"You know, I could take a look at it sometime. I mean, I'm not an expert, but massaging the muscles could help with… with stuff."
Right. Stuff. Because I'd told her there wasn't any pain. I have no doubt that her hands would feel unreal. I already know how they feel elsewhere.
“Thank you.”
I hate the careful way she's acting. It's the same way most of the people in town treat me these days. I want to bring back the lightness in her eyes. But what do I say? That I only feel myself around her? That she's the best thing that's walked onto this property in decades?
Her hand rests between us on the bench, curved softly around the edge. I shift closer with a glance towards the girls, but they’re not looking at us. Austin has their undivided attention.
I run a finger over the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Lucy doesn’t look at me, her bright blue gaze focused on our hands as they slowly intertwine.
“What do we do now?”
“I have no idea.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, and for a moment, I think I’ve rendered her speechless. I can’t help but smile. “You said earlier that it was fine if I regretted it, but I don’t. Not by a long shot. I hate the thought of you thinking I only wanted a one-night kind of thing. It was one of the best nights of my life.”
Lucy’s cheeks flush a wonderful bright pink. “It was pretty great.”
“Pretty great?”
She laughs, and the sound eases the last of my tension. “Amazing. Magical. Perfect. What more adjectives do you want?”
“All of them.”
Her hand tightens around mine. “I’ve missed you this week.”
And I’d missed seeing her around. She’s looking at me in anticipation, and I know I need to be brave, tell her what I want.
“I haven’t done this whole dating thing for a long time. But I want to spend more time with you, and I want to do it right.”
Lucy’s smile is sweet, tentative and hopeful, all in one. My heartbeat speeds up in response, fueled by nerves and anticipation of my own. “I’d like that,” she says.
I lift our intertwined hands and press a kiss to the back of hers. “We can be whatever we want to be, Luce,” I say. “It’s up to us.”
17
Lucy
I dust my hands off my apron and grab another cellophane bag. I could do this in my sleep by now. Five chocolate chip cookies stacked, a ribbon tied around, a sticker with the By the Rhode logo and boom—another bag finished and ready to sell.
There’s something meditative with the bakery, something I didn’t know I’d missed. The familiar steps to a recipe, the thoughtful process behind each cake, loaf of bread, or cookie. The love that my aunt and uncle pour into their work each and every day. They might not be changing the world, but they’re very inspiring, nonetheless.
Phil gives Claire a kiss on the cheek and gives me a cheery wave. “I’m heading out. See you later, Luce! Take care of the place!”
“I always do!” I smile and wave him off as he gets in his little van, loaded with bread.
My aunt smiles as she continues with her baking. She’s making carrot cake today and the spicy scent is thick in the air. “Every morning, he says the same thing.”
“Well, I might have forgotten, you know. You can never be too careful.”
She shakes her head, but her smile is soft. It’s been amazing to see them like this again now that I’m an adult myself. To see the joy they bring to one another. It’s a love I can’t wait to experience myself—to grow old together with someone and support one another throw thick and thin.
She looks up at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You look great, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.”
“Much better than when you first arrived.” A hand dusted with flour settles on my cheek, and warm eyes meet mine. “The ranch has done you good.”
“So has the bakery.”
“Yes, well, a few early mornings and the smell of yeast will do that to you. Pass me the salt?”
She’s right. When I looked in the mirror that morning, I saw someone I had missed for weeks, with rosy cheeks and happy eyes. It’s a joy to have the old me back. And while her comment wasn’t meant that way… the ranch has done me good.
I can’t help but grin as I package the rest of the cookies. Phil’s round of deliveries includes a stop at Morris Ranch, delivering bread and loaves. I’d slipped a little something into the delivery—a small bag of heart-shaped sugar cookies, tied off with a bow.
It had been an impulse. When I came down to the bakery in the early morning, the familiar crates labeled Morris were stacked in the corner, and I couldn't resist. I slipped a five-dollar bill into the cash register when my aunt wasn't looking, to make sure I paid for them.
All the usual morning customers swing by. Mrs. Masters stops by for her banana bread and comments that my hair looks nice today. By that, I figure she means it looks tidy. No strands loose—I’d piled it perfectly atop my head. I’d seen her looking at my messy buns more than once with disapproval.
Oh well. You can’t please them all.
Doubt sets in halfway through the morning rush. What if someone else found the heart cookies? I’m sure Oliver doesn't unpack his own deliveries. I give myself five minutes to fret before I shake my head at my own silliness. I won't give in to doubt or fear. He had said it himself—we can be anything we want. No pressure, no constraints.
I’m stacking t
he shelves behind the counter with fresh loaves when the bell by the door jingles again.
“Hi there. What can I help you with?”
A familiar man strolls forward, a dark cap in hand. “Sure can, miss. My name is Gavin Whittaker.”
It rings a bell. “I think we've met before, haven't we?”
“We have indeed, although it was brief.” His smile is all sweetness, but there’s something off with his eyes. “And you’re Lucy Rhodes herself.”
I smile, a bit awkwardly. “Have you heard the new-girl-in-town talk, too?”
“A bit. Though you’ve made your own mark, too. I’ve seen your flyers.”
“You have?” It’s been weeks since I took those down.
He rests his elbows on the counter. “You work up at the Morris Ranch?”
“I do, yes. Oliver and Sarah have installed a spa and I give treatments there.”
“Do you only accept fancy out-of-town guests, or are locals welcome too?”
“The spa is open for all. You can book through reception.”
He picks up one of the small bags of cookies from the display basket and flips it over with a rough hand. “I might have to do that, then. It’s been a while since I’ve last had a massage.”
“The treatment list is online. Feel free to have a look at the different options.”
Gavin looks up at me, his gaze sly. “I’m sure it would be possible to sort out a more… individual kind of treatment. You know, to treat any special needs.”
Ah.
Well, he certainly proved my intuition correct. Slimeball.
“The treatment list is online,” I repeat and pluck the bag of cookies from his hand. “There are no extras. Will you be buying that?”
His smile is there and gone in an instant, amused, dismayed, challenged. His features settle into a neutral mask as he fishes out a twenty-dollar bill. “Yes. Keep the change.”
“Oh, but—“
He’s already grabbed the cookies and heads to the door. “Consider it an advance,” he winks. “See you around, Lucy.”
The door shuts behind him and I let out a shaky breath.
It is not the first time I’ve been propositioned like that, by men who misunderstand or mistake what I do for… for something else, but it’s by far the most unsettling. Claremont is small, and it’s welcoming, but it can also be narrow-minded. I turn the volume on the radio up and try to lose myself to the upbeat pop tune. I know my worth. My friends and family know my worth. What other people think is their own concern.