My phone rings instantly with his number, and I swallow hard against the nerves and ball of emotion in my throat. “Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey,” he says, and my God, his voice, that deep resonating tone of his, does funny things to my belly. “When are you going to come sing that song?” he asks.
“I’m leaving early in the morning. I’ll be there by lunch.”
“Good,” he says. “You’ll make Snowflake and me happy.”
Snowflake is the horse. I don’t even ask for confirmation. I know how his mind works. The horse is white as a snowflake. How very Christmas of him. Emotion balls in my chest. “Roarke,” I whisper. “You know we—”
“I know a lot of things about us, Hannah, and it’s time you know, too.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Yes, you do, but put that aside for now, and only now, because we need you for this festival.”
“I’m coming. I’m not backing out if that’s what this call is about. You don’t get to make me back out.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s the right answer.”
I don’t know what that means. He’s talking in code, which isn’t Roarke, but then, I’m not asking for details, either. I change the subject. “I forgot to ask how old the kids are at the camp?”
“Middle school and high school. Why?”
“I’m just trying to frame the festival. I need to know who I’m catering to.”
“I think it needs to be about the town, not just the camp. Something people look forward to that has nothing to do with the camp.”
“Right.” I think about the kids. I think about Roarke. “You’re going to be good at this. I’ve seen you online. You’re good with kids.”
His voice softens. “You’ve watched my videos?”
I’m busted, so busted. “There was one of you when you were with a group of kids that went viral on Facebook,” I say, and it’s the truth. It’s the video that made me go to his YouTube channel. “That one at a rodeo. I saw it. The world saw it. You’ll be amazing at this.” My mind starts to play on the past, on him as a father, to some lucky woman’s kids.
“I thought of you that day, filming that video.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because a little girl sang to one of the horses, right before she poured her drink all over her and me.”
I laugh because this is a memory. I was eighteen, and he was twenty-four, home from vet school for the holiday, hotter than ever, but we still weren’t a couple. It was in the air, so in the air then, but it was years later before it really happened. For a moment, I’m back in time, climbing out of his truck at his ranch, a huge fountain drink of Dr. Pepper in my hand, after a run to the store. I’d rounded the truck, and one of his dogs raced to greet me, knocking me over and into him. That Dr. Pepper flew open, and somehow, it all came together in the wrong way. I’d turned to try to protect the drink, and Roarke had grabbed me. The drink exploded all over him. And he’d just laughed. We’d laughed until we cried while Maxwell, the pup in question, had licked the soda off him. I loved that, all of it. I’d known I loved him that day. I’d finally admitted it to myself.
“How is Maxwell?” I ask, of the German Shepherd.
“Lost him last year.” His voice cracks with those words, that sensitive side of him I love ever present.
I tear up. “That hurts my heart.”
“Mine, too, but he was an ancient old boy at that point. He needed to rest.”
“Yeah. I guess so, but it still hurts. I wish I could have said goodbye.”
“Me, too,” he says. “I didn’t know how to reach you. I wanted to tell you.”
I swallow hard. “I better go. It’s an early morning for me.”
“What time will you be here?” he asks. “I’ll meet you in town at the B and B where you’re staying.”
“You don’t need to meet me. I don’t know what time.”
“Call me when you pull into town.”
“I’m not calling you when I get into town,” I say.
“Then I’ll wait for you at the bar next door.”
“Roarke—”
“See you tomorrow, Han.” His voice is low, rough, familiar in an intimate way, and then he hangs up.
Chapter Sixteen
Hannah…
My drive to Sweetwater starts with Starbucks, as should all drives. I’ve stopped for a second coffee and a muffin, which becomes three cake pops when the muffins are sold out, halfway to Sweetwater. I’ve just stuffed half a vanilla cake pop in my mouth when my mother calls. I answer with a choke. “Hey, Mom. Sorry. Hold on.” I manage to swallow without getting into a wreck with the help of a slug of white mocha. “I’m back,” I say. “You love to catch me with food in my mouth.”
“Easy to do, since you always have food in your mouth.”
“Mostly healthy food,” I say, though the past two weeks that hasn’t been true, but all good reunions require food for the senses.
She laughs. “How many times have you been to Whataburger?”
“Four times. I can’t seem to convince myself this is my new normal.”
“I might have to come see you just to have some myself. I miss it. We don’t have it here, either. How is Dallas, honey? How’s the new business?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The craziest thing happened. My friend Linda, who I told you about, the one I’m leasing a space from—she got hurt and sent me on a job. Guess where? Or with who? It was the Rangers, and Jason was there.”
“Jason. Oh my. That’s a blast from the past. How was that?”
“Good. He and Roarke are doing a kids camp in Sweetwater. They hired me to put on a town festival. Would you believe I’m headed there now? It’s going to be a great credit and launch of my business.” She’s silent. And silent some more. “Mom?”
“You’re going to Sweetwater?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s—”
“I can’t believe you’re going to Sweetwater.” Her tone is pure disbelief, and not in a good way.
“Why is this a problem?”
“For starters, Roarke broke your heart.”
“We’re adults. We can handle this.”
“And sometimes the past is better left alone.” Someone calls her name. “I need to go, but please rethink this.”
“I’m on my way there. This is a great opportunity, and it helps kids and the community.”
“Right. I need to go.” She hangs up.
My father and I are not close, but my mother never just hangs up on me. We’re close, but then that has always made the Sweetwater secrets bigger and more confusing. Roarke will know what happened. He’ll tell me, and my mother has to know this, but it’s time I know. It’s past time. I shove another cake pop in my mouth. I wonder if cholesterol is an issue at twenty-eight. It probably is. I should eat healthier, which should be easy to do at the ranch. There are always lots of fresh veggies. I sigh. Okay, that was at my family ranch where we grew veggies. It’s going to be hard to ride into town and see our place owned by someone else, and right now, I don’t even know who.
I turn up the radio and try not to think about the ranch that was one half a farm that is no more. Or maybe it is. It’s just not ours. Instead, my mind flashes to me naked with Roarke last night. My God, he’d felt good, and right, so very right. What are you doing, Hannah?! I turn up the radio and start singing, practicing for Snowflake the horse. I’m going to sing her a concert I’ve organized right here in this car.
…
I’m just outside the rest stop on the outskirts of Sweetwater when I finish off a rendition of “Sucker” by the Jonas Brothers and dive into Luke Combs’ “Beautiful Crazy” when my car starts making a sputtering sound. My eyes go wide. This can’t be happening. No. No. No. I’m so close to Sweetwater. So very close to my final
destination. The sputtering doesn’t stop. I turn down the radio and eye the exit that gets me to the rest stop. I might make it, but I didn’t check my fluids before leaving, and I should have in a car I don’t know well. If I have a leak, I could bust something expensive. I pull over to the shoulder of the road, kill the engine, and watch smoke come from the hood. This is a horse poop moment. Is someone telling me I don’t belong in Sweetwater?
Nevertheless, I’m here. I grab my phone, and the internet has one bar. I have two numbers: Jessica and Roarke. I dial Jessica. “Are you here?” she answers.
“Sort of. I’m on the side of the road by the rest stop. My car broke down.”
“Oh no. Oh gosh.” I hear a voice in the background and smile in spite of the situation. It’s Jason’s grandma, Martha. “Is she here? Is she here? Tell her I have cookies going in the oven.”
“Her car broke down,” Jessica says, speaking to Martha.
Martha worries for me, and as I listen to her fret through the line, it warms my heart. This is the part of Sweetwater I love. The way everyone knows each other and cares for each other. “We’ll be right there to get you,” Jessica assures me.
I describe my car and location and disconnect; the Texas heat that needs to let up already—it’s October—has me opening my door and getting out. Just breathing this air, this Sweetwater air, has emotions rushing through me. I cover my eyes with my hand and consider walking to the rest stop. Yep. I’m gonna do it. I can’t stand here in the heat with only my own head to swim around inside. I start walking and dial Jessica.
“I’m walking to the rest stop. It’s hot, and I can’t use my air.”
“Got it. Help is on the way, I promise.”
“Thank you, Jessica.”
We disconnect. I grab my purse and roller bag and start walking. I’ve made it to the exit when a truck pulls up behind me and stops. I turn to find Roarke getting out. Oh God. Roarke, looking all hot in jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt that hugs the same hard body I was hugging last night. All my girl parts start to melt. I’d like to say it’s the heat, but fooling myself isn’t taking control. Last night was about control and owning the past and present. He’s hot. He has bedroom skills that I’ve experienced firsthand. Of course, he makes me melt.
But that reaction doesn’t rule my world.
He steps in front of me, that spicy scent of his circling me like a tiger going in for the kill, and then the tiger does go in for the kill. He takes my bag, sets it behind him, and cups my head. The next thing I know, he’s kissing me, and I’m not stopping him. His tongue is just so damn good at everything it does, and when his hand slides to my hip and pulls me closer, I’m without resources to resist. I moan and try to pull back, in my mind at least. I’m pretty sure my body snuggles closer to his. I kiss him back. I can’t help it. I really have no desire to even try to help it.
His lips part mine, though, and that tongue of his is no longer next to my tongue, and logic slams into me. “You can’t just come up to me and kiss me. Last night—”
“I didn’t properly kiss you goodbye.” He releases me. “I owed you. Next time, I’ll ask. Or maybe you will. If I’m lucky.” He brushes the hair from my face behind my ear. “But I was going to lose my mind without that kiss. Come on. Let’s get you to your room and take care of your car.” He turns and starts walking toward his truck.
I stare after him, stunned, confused, and frustrated that he made me want him again. Anger is the result. I charge after him, walking to the passenger door, and I’m about to open it when he opens it for me like he’s a gentleman and all. Which he is, except when he’s cheating on his fiancée. I turn to face him. “I’m not going to ask. And the answer, in advance, to a future kiss is no.” I climb in the truck and face forward. He doesn’t fight me. He shuts me inside, but when he rounds the vehicle and joins me, he doesn’t drive, either. For a good two minutes, we both face forward, the charge of all that is and has been between us filling the small space.
“I’m going to change your mind,” he finally says, and I feel him look at me, compelling me to look at him, and I can’t stop myself. I do. My head turns, my eyes meet his. “Because there are—”
He doesn’t finish that sentence. He scrubs his jaw and faces forward again, turning on the engine and placing us in drive.
Chapter Seventeen
Roarke…
Because there are things you don’t know.
That’s what I’d been about to say to Hannah, but with what end? She’ll either want to know what that means, when I have no answers, at least not yet, or she’ll think it’s an excuse for cheating, which I didn’t do. Why would I cheat on the woman who was my everything? With the road before me, her taste on my lips, and by my side, this is my dilemma, but it’s one I have to solve. Hannah is here now. I can’t let her go again, I won’t. I just have to figure out how the hell I do that without destroying everyone else.
“Shouldn’t we wait on the tow truck?” Hannah asks as I pull us onto the highway.
“It’s Nick Wright doing the towing. I told him where to look and what to look for.”
“Nick,” she says. “Oh wow. I thought he vowed he was never going to end up in this”—she roughens her voice up and imitates Nick—“Godforsaken small town for the rest of his life.”
“Apparently the city was a ‘rat trap of humans,’” I say, quoting Nick. “His words, not mine. His father retired and moved to Florida. He came back and took over the garage.”
“His father left? I’m in the Twilight Zone.”
“There’s a lot that’s changed,” I say, solemn now because of the recent losses that hit close to home for me and for her.
“Jason’s parents,” she says. “I didn’t know about the plane crash when it happened, or I would have come back for the funeral. I did call him when I found out.”
“He told me.” I glance over at her. “It mattered to him. He went through a rough patch after they died.” I turn us down the country road leading to Sweetwater. “They didn’t have life insurance, and they had a pile of debt. He was just coming off an injury, and he hadn’t been in the big leagues for long. He used all of his money to pay off the bills and then stayed to protect the families that count on the ranch. The good news is that Jessica helped him see a path to play ball and take care of the ranch.”
“Which is fabulous, but there was no life insurance? And debt? That doesn’t seem like his father.”
There’s so much about our families that none of us knew or understood, I think, but that’s part of that story I can’t tell without consequences.
“Welcome to Sweetwater,” she says, reading the sign as it comes into view. “I can’t believe I’m back.”
I can’t believe I let her leave in the first place, and as much as I’d like to say there’s no looking back, only forward, I can’t. If our path was that simple, I would have chased her down and married her years ago. I pull us into the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast parking lot, which is basically a historic house painted white with a massive porch that sits next to a restaurant, which is also a bar.
Parking, I kill the engine. “Sue is going to be elated that you’re here, but I’m telling you right now, if you don’t go see Martha and try her cookies, she’ll hunt you down.”
“I’m not ready for that,” she blurts without further explanation, but she doesn’t have to give me one. Jason’s grandma baking for us all is a part of our past, a part of the history she left behind when she left me. She looks over at me. “Can you take me to see Snowflake first?”
Animals always gave her comfort, as they do me. It was one of the things that drew us together. I know this woman, and there’s so damn much heartache in her, heartache I failed to save her from, that it cuts me. “Yeah, baby,” I say softly. “I can take you to see Snowflake. She would like that.” And so would I, I add silently. “You want to check-in first?”
“I just realized that if you go in there with me, I’m not the gossip. We’re the gossip. Everyone will think that we’re back together.”
“And just to be clear,” I say, stepping closer to her. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Yes, it’s a bad thing. For all I know, you have a girlfriend I could piss off, too.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend who isn’t you.”
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
“No. You graduated to fiancée before I lost you.” I don’t give her time to reply. I ask the question that’s tortured me, on and off for years. “And you, Han. Do you have a boyfriend? Someone who replaced me?”
“No one,” she says without hesitation. “You made sure of that, and I don’t like it.”
“I’ll try not to be as pleased as I am about that comment, considering you did the same to me. Actually, no, I won’t. Let’s go register so you can meet Snowflake.”
“No, Roarke. No. I don’t want you to go in there with me.”
“Everyone is going to talk about us anyway. This is Sweetwater, remember? Population of less than ten thousand. We just drove into town together. We’ll be spending time together. Do you really think we’re going to avoid that speculation?”
She sighs. “No. Of course, we won’t. We’re already the talk of the town. Let’s just go inside.”
“Look at it this way. Sue’s good practice for my grandmother.”
She groans. “Oh God. I love her, but she’s going to try to marry us off again, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I say, and not unhappily. “She will.”
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