by Emma Sutton
When I reach the center of the ranch, I zoom past Mary Jo and August who are trudging the grass on foot and waving frantically. I feel embarrassed at my outfit right now, but I’m not staying for long.
Slowing, I hear MJ shout something. “Go get that rascal!”
I laugh as I turn the gas again, the thrum of the ATV carrying me quicker.
I’d thrown on some leggings and one of Walker’s old Carhartt Henley T-shirts as soon as I got home from work and showered, so paired with my cowboy boots, I look something left of presentable. But for wrangling Oreo and the others back to pasture, this is fine.
Detouring to the stable, I hop off the ATV and grab some lead ropes so I’ll have something with which to help him back down the hill. Back on the vehicle, I twist on the gas once more and pray that this thing has enough juice to carry me all the way up to Lone Oak Hill tonight because I didn’t even think to grab my phone or a two-way.
The engine purrs beneath me as I pursue the top, my mind somehow imagining worst-case scenarios in which it’s possible Oreo could find himself. He could easily slip down the side of the mountain that overlooks the ranch, maybe even get himself stuck in some of the brush. But as I finally crest the top of the hill, I don’t see any sign of Oreo.
In fact, I don’t find a horse at all. Instead, I’m met with Walker’s truck.
Immediately confused, I park next to his vehicle. “Where’s Oreo?” I say, hopping off, not immediately spotting Walker either.
“He’s in the pasture.”
All my breath rushes from me when I rub my eyes. “You caught him? How? Eliza said he was acting up,” I say, my voice wavering from the emotion of everything leading me up here.
“Sorry,” Walker says, staving off a chuckle. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Holding his arm out, he beckons for me to join him on the other side of the oak tree and smiles. “Wanted to surprise you up here. The horses are all fine, Hattie.”
Catching my breath, I fold my arms in front of me and take a few steps in his direction. “Did you take papers to Mason already?” I ask, now completely confused.
Walker shakes his head and grins. “Come here,” he says, meeting me in front of the overlook by the rocks.
I continue to calm myself from my anguish. “What are you doing up here then? I thought—”
But before I can get any more words out, Walker slides his arm around my back and pulls me into a quick kiss. His lips taste salty with a hint of sweet mint. “I have some things I want to talk to you about.”
My stomach drops. Oreo and the rest of the horses are safe. But at his insistence of drawing me up here for a sunset in the middle of May, I’m still confused as ever. “Like what? Are we in trouble again?” I nearly whisper.
Walker chuckles and shakes his head. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he grins. “No, ma’am. I promise you we’re not. Not at all. I want to tell you how much I love you. How much I care about you.”
Furrowing my brow, I smile at his words. “I love you, too, babe.”
“I know we’ve only been together for about a year now—”
“Almost a year,” I correct him.
“Almost a year,” he laughs. “But if it were up to me, I’d hope we could be together for the rest of our lives.” He brushes a few tangled strands of hair from my face as a floral breeze whips through.
I part my lips, not quite realizing the weight of what he’s doing but understanding it must be something significant. Turning my head from him, I stare out at the oranges and pinks of the mid-spring evening.
“And I know you and I talk a lot about family. About us, about starting a family of our own someday, about the family we have and the family members we’ve lost along the way. All of it.”
Swallowing hard, I feel my expression harden as his words start to penetrate my soul. Looking back up at him, his eyes read a certain shade of copper tonight, like they’re live wires waiting to ignite.
“And I know that I want you as part of my family. Now and forevermore. I’ve told you this countless times, Hattie, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it. And one of these days, you’re gonna make a great momma.” He grins as he glances down at me. “If that’s what we decide.”
A sea of chills climbs my spine when he stares me in the eye. I work to stop my chin from quivering as he gathers his words and continues.
“Which is why I want to ask you something.”
Letting go of my arms, Walker suddenly grabs my hands in one of his and drops to a knee, presenting me with a charming blue box. Popping it open, he beams at me. “Hattie Frances Locherman, will you please marry me?”
My lips part in shock and my jaw goes slack with emotion. My hands tremble as my eyes continue to grow wide. “Are you serious, Walker?” I whisper, my face contorting into something of raw restraint as I work to keep myself from breaking down.
“Yes,” he smiles. “I couldn’t be more serious about something like this.”
Pulling on the arms of his shirt, I beg him to stand as I nod my head in an attempt to tell him that I want to be with him forever, too.
“Is that a yes then?” he mutters, excitement threading his voice. Standing back up, he towers over me.
“Yes,” I hiss, trying to rid myself of the overwhelming sensation that floods me. I press my lips to his, our mouths smashing in a haphazard embrace. “Yes, I will marry you, Walker,” I whisper, no longer able to fight the tears that threaten me.
“Thank you, God,” he says, pushing out a nervous laugh. And just like that, he cups my hand, sliding the classically stunning piece of jewelry over my ring finger— simple diamond, channel set, perfect in every possible way.
As hard as I try to reel myself in, my tears escape and cascade down my face as Walker smiles.
Reaching over, he wipes them away with his thumb and presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much, Hattie Handful. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”
His words again crushing me, I shatter into another silent fit of tears as I pop up to my tiptoes and kiss him here underneath the Wyoming twilight. “I love you, too,” I promise. “I’m so glad I know you.”
“Now,” he finally says when he breaks our kiss, sighing like he’s disappointed the moment is over. “No rush or anything. We can stay up here all night if it suits you.”
Another cold breeze whips in from the valley and makes me shiver.
“But I happen to know a good number of people down there who are waiting for us. Waiting for you, actually.”
“Wait, what?” I pull my limbs from him and work at drying my face. “You told them?” I say with a sniffle.
He chuckles. “How else do you think I was able to coordinate getting you up here? And you know them. If one of ‘em knows, they all do.”
“Eliza, Mason, and MJ?” I squeal in laughter, suddenly feeling like I’m floating in a fairytale of bliss.
“And August and Jess and Alexis and Grace and Georgia,” he says, now counting it out on his fingers like he’s mock-overwhelmed. “Hell, probably half the wranglers know by now with how news carries over that way.”
The thought of everyone wanting to celebrate with us makes my heart grow strong. With Lone Oak now on the up and up after months of putting a brand new and improved marketing strategy into play, the ranch was thriving more than any of us could’ve guessed.
“Wait, where’s Sophie?” I suddenly ask, remembering he’d at least let her outside before he left the house.
Turning away, Walker calls into the bushes behind us. “Soph Soph! Come here, girl!”
Within seconds, a chocolate Border Collie zooms her way over to us where she happily plants herself at our shoes.
“Say hello to your new momma,” Walker winks at the dog.
I laugh and bat his arm.
“What? It’s true. Although she’s kind of already adopted you as her momma. But still.”
I laugh again and focus back on Walker until I slap my hand to my lips with a sh
ake of my head. “Babe, I can’t be seen wearing this,” I snort, suddenly giddy with the heat rolling off of him, warming me in the coolness of the oncoming night.
“You look beautiful. Especially in this,” he says, plucking the wide collar of his navy blue henley. “Somehow Carhartt always suits you better.”
“Hush,” I tell him, slipping my arms under his for one more hug.
Walker’s hands brush my hair from my neckline as he pulls me into him. “Thank you for saying yes,” he whispers as he plants a trail of kisses from the corner of my mouth to my jawline, then down following the curve of my neck. “Thank you for letting me love you like this.”
Glancing up at him, I smile with my eyes. “There’s no one else I’d rather love,” I tell him, meaning it from the depths of my overflowing heart as we declare our love for one another over the land of Lone Oak Ranch.
The End
Trusting the Billionaire
Landon & Henry
A jilted surf instructor and a single dad billionaire only have two weeks to make things right. And it all starts with a faulty Ferris wheel...
Landon Langford most certainly isn’t looking for love. In fact, she wants nothing to do with it. And to double down on her independence? She’s desperate to ditch her dull small-town job at the ice cream shack for a full-time surfboard. Happy as a clam on her own, her world tips upside down when a man who looks strangely familiar approaches her at the county fair, causing undue feelings to ignite. Oops.
Henry Evan Neal is the lonely and laidback billionaire from Southern Kentucky who prides himself on two things— his exceptional ability to close a business deal and the exciting life he’s built his kids, Ryley and Cohen. But when he enrolls them in private surf lessons on a whim, he decides to take a risk for the sake of romance. Strong business acumen aside, the only thing Henry can’t seem to close on? A serious relationship with Landon.
As Landon and Henry bond over a shared connection, the past comes back to trouble them. Will the two be able to tie up loose ends in the name of love? Or will Henry’s final decision on the island cut him out of Landon’s life for good?
Grab your copy of Trusting the Billionaire to find out!
Chapter One
Landon
Closing my eyes, I inhale the deep night air that’s filled with wafting scents of salted popcorn and freshly fried donuts while I let out a sigh of blistering defeat.
I run from love.
Okay, fine. Maybe that’s putting it a little too lightly.
How about this? I chase love out of my life like it’s my full-time J-O-B. That’s better. Rings truer as to what I’m actually doing up here on a literal Ferris wheel right now when I should, instead, be meeting my first foray back into the online dating world by the ticket stand in a mere five minutes. He goes by the name of Charles.
But no, not me.
Here I am, Landon Langford. Serial love-runner. Buzzkill of my own love life, reporting for duty. Seriously, just call me Maggie Carpenter a la Runaway Bride though I can’t hold a light to Julia Roberts. Because apparently? I seek avoidance of love. At. all. costs.
A sobering breeze from the ocean a few blocks over reaches me all the way up here, knocking my harmful thoughts at bay. I’m glad to have stolen a moment by myself for a ride to help ease my jumpy mind. Because truth be told, while I’m running from love on account of me, I’m also running from love on account of my best friend and her husband. No matter how many times I hang out with Catharine and Mark, I always tend to feel like a third wheel.
But tonight was supposed to be different. I wasn’t going to be the third wheel tonight. I was supposed to be on a first-date-turned-double with a man I’d been chatting with via a new online dating app Catharine had somehow read about. Enter the poor, unfortunate soul of Charles.
We’d agreed to meet up at the front gate at seven, but to say I’m too chicken and a little less than impressed with our nonexistent connection over the past three days as we’ve chatted back and forth is an understatement.
Regardless, I’m about to stand him up by way of keeping myself planted on this very Ferris wheel, and with good reason. I’m just not ready for love. Or anything remotely close to it.
Pulling my cell phone from my bag very carefully so as not to drop it and send it clattering to the ground, I open my messages and scroll until I find Charles’ name.
Opening a new text message, I decide how, exactly, I should break the news to him.
Me: Hi Charles. So sorry for this. We’re supposed to be meeting in a few. And I don’t feel very good.
Reading over my typed message, I cock an eyebrow at my claim. I mean, I’m not lying. It’s true that I feel awful. Because number one, this rickety Ferris wheel is starting to make me queasy, and two, I do feel bad about standing him up.
Just be honest, Landon.
Maybe I should tell him I don’t trust myself enough to be in any sort of relationship right now. Like the true whacko I am. Yep, that’ll work.
Me: (cont) I just don’t think I’m ready for anything serious right now. I’m sorry if I led you on at all. You seem like an awesome person. Friends?
I hit send before I realize how much of a spoiled and highly unusual basketcase I sound right now. But such is life when you’re trying to do the right thing.
I mean, I could’ve just not showed. That would’ve been worse. My meager text warning him that I won’t be showing has to count for something, right?
Right.
In fact, so I wouldn’t ruin the entirety of Catharine and Mark’s date night to the county fair for the second year in a row, I decided to give ‘em some space and try a whirl on the Century Wheel even though I’m terribly afraid of heights. Like… really afraid of them. But the Ferris wheel is supposed to be one of the tamest rides here at the Turin County Fair.
Or so I thought.
As soon as I let myself think it, the metal hanging seat in which I’m perched creaks out into the night air as the entire wheel comes to an abrupt halt, jerking me forward. Not the smooth, rolling type of stop they grace you with while they’re loading other riders. No, this stop is much different. A more intense one.
Furrowing my brow, I look around, my surroundings swaying only slightly at the suspension up here in the sticky and unbearable North Carolina humidity. The neon lights of the fairgrounds below bounce in vivid, spicy purples and tantalizing blues under the haze of the nine o’clock sky, and my heart races like a metronome.
Serves me right for bailing on the date.
Deep down inside, I know this isn’t supposed to be happening. This ride isn’t supposed to be a dangerous one like a few of the others that I have a clear and very specific bird’s eye view of right now from all the way up here. The risky rides like the Tiltawhirl and the Typhoon. The ones that mess with your own personal field of gravity. The Ferris wheel is supposed to be the safe bet. No one is supposed to get messed with on something as harmless as the Century Wheel.
But as I come to the realization nearly eye-to-eye with the highest tree branch of the tallest nearby oak, I ask myself one question. Why am I suddenly stuck at the very top of this metal monstrosity?
“Attention, folks,” a scratchy voice grumbles from the intercom speakers fastened somewhere on this rickety beast. “Please hang with us for a few minutes as we figure out what’s going on with the ride.”
Hang with us?
Is that supposed to be funny? Who jokes at a time like this?
“Hang with us?” I say aloud, still not believing the ride attendant would use such a careless pun.
Leaning forward, I peer over the safety bar to see who’s below me, but as soon as I do, the entire contraption shifts under my movement causing me to gasp. Suspended and swinging. Way up high. Hanging by nothing but a few rusty screws and the scraps from a junkyard that probably hails from somewhere even further down south.
And tortured by my debilitating fear of heights, no less. What was I thinking to get on a ride like
this? Any ride at all, honestly.
Slamming my eyes shut as my bench continues to sway, I send up a silent prayer. I know better— should’ve absolutely stayed on the ground. Tagged along with Catharine and Mark as they hit up the food court. Maybe even gone on that double date with Charles. Or at least met him before I refused to give love a shot with him. But no. This is purely karmic.
Gripping my water bottle tighter, the plastic crinkles under my grasp as I hear a few far-off shouts and a delighted laugh from a woman who’s probably somewhere toward the bottom of the wheel. For sure, these others aren’t as dumbstruck with dread as I am when it comes to heights. That, alone, I can tell by their vocal demeanor.
Me, on the other hand? I just need to hold it together until the seat I’m in touches down. Hits ground. Preferably in one piece and still attached to this giant wheel.
Clutching onto the metal bar that’s gating me in, I swallow the sickly emotion that pools at the back of my throat.
Do not throw up, Landon. Just hold yourself together, girl.
I swallow hard again, karma fresh on my tail.
Because the first worst thing of being on a Ferris wheel has just taken place. And the second worst thing that could happen? Me throwing up my dinner while suspended up here.
Please, karma.
And then I hear it— my cell phone ringing.
It’s not until I study my death-gripped hands that I realize I’m still holding it. An unknown local number flashes across my screen. Charles.
The least I can do is answer his call, right? Can’t just completely ghost him for good.
Gritting my teeth, I swipe open the call and press the phone to my ear. Slowly so the cage in which I’m tethered doesn’t move. Because I am not going down like this— terrified but also full of shame.
“Hello?” I say, my voice sounding the only way it can under the circumstances. Full of dread.