Wild West Wedding (River's End Ranch Book 9)

by Caroline Lee

  Maybe she was a lot more everything than he’d thought.

  When she tossed another package down at him, he caught it and lowered it into the bin carefully. “Maybe.”

  She came down the stairs backwards, clutching the last of her packages in her arms. After dropping them in, she plopped cross-legged on the couch. “Well, how’d it go?”

  He couldn’t stop staring at her, with her eyes sparkling in excitement and her limbs all loose and free. She looked so at ease, and he couldn’t help thinking about that kiss. “How’d what go?”

  “The interview, silly! How’d the interview go?”

  “Oh.” He hung his jacket up over one of the kitchen chairs and sat down in the other. “It went fine, I guess.”

  “You guess? When do you find out if you got the job?”

  He smiled for the first time since entering the room. “I start the Monday after the wedding.”

  Dink gasped, and actually bounced a little bit. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d clapped too; she looked that pleased for him. “Oh, Jace, I’m so glad! I knew Wade would hire you! He’d be silly not to; you’re obviously qualified and motivated.”

  “Thanks.” He wondered if he was blushing. Sure feels like it.

  “So…” Maybe he should’ve sounded more enthusiastic, because she was looking at him funny now. “Are we happy about this?”

  We. Like she was invested in his future? In his happiness? Jace took a deep breath, and tried not to think about her pressed against his chest that morning, her small arms holding him tight.

  “Yeah, I’m happy. I think…I think this might be where I belong, you know?”

  She smiled and nodded, and he thought maybe she did know what he’d meant.

  Later, after he’d switched out his suit jacket for his favorite angora sweater and she’d pulled on her hoodie, he loaded her bin into his SUV and they climbed in.

  The first few moments of the drive were spent in companionable silence. But then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Will you tell me about it?”

  “About the interview?”

  “No. About why you feel so at home here? I know you weren’t raised around here.”

  “I wasn’t.” Jace felt his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I grew up mostly down in Boise.” That’s where the agency had been, at least.

  “So how’d you fall in love with this place?”

  Is that what he’d done? Fall in love with it? Jace supposed that was true. “One of my foster mothers decided it was a good place for me to build character, and her husband was glad to get me out of his hair, I think. Either way, it worked, and River’s End Ranch shaped me up.”

  She didn’t say anything for another few miles, and he snuck a peek in her direction. She was staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”

  “Will you tell me about her?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  Your mother. Jace pulled into the Post Office parking lot and slid into a spot, keeping his hands firmly on the steering wheel. Your mother.

  He took a deep breath. Maybe it was the kiss they’d shared. Maybe it was the way Dink saw him as a real person, rather than a rarity. Maybe it was the caring in her expression, but he wanted to tell her.

  “I don’t remember my mother. The foster agency told me she was high on all sorts of drugs when she brought me in. Single white female, twenty-two years old. That’s all I know.”

  “She was young.”

  “So was I.” Jace tried to harden his heart against the compassion he heard in her voice, but it was hard. He wanted to give in, to let her comfort him. “Do you know how few black men there are in Idaho? Big cities are more diverse, of course, so she must’ve found someone.” He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness.

  “Your father was black?” She sounded surprised enough that he turned to see if she was mocking him.

  When he saw she wasn’t, he frowned. “Yeah. Isn’t it obvious?”

  She just shrugged. “I’ve spent years living in Dallas, Jace. I’m used to all sorts of people.”

  He snorted. “Then you’re unique in Idaho. Things can get pretty monotone up here.”

  “Yeah, but something like skin color doesn’t really matter.”

  Jace stared at the steering wheel and thought of the women he’d dated in the past, some of whom had only seemed interested in him because he was different from so many other Idahoans. “Some women…”

  She seemed to understand what he was trying to say, even if he couldn’t finish the thought. It was her turn to snort derisively. “You really don’t think women could be interested in you because you’re a gorgeous, intelligent, and successful man?”

  Gorgeous? Jace’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t glance her way, even when he felt her hand on his forearm. “You’re wrong, Jace. Who your parents are doesn’t matter.” When her hand dropped away, he felt like a piece of himself had left with her. “At least, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  He cleared his throat, not sure how to respond. Did he thank her? Tell her he’d been waiting—hoping?—to hear those words for years? Or brush them off like they didn’t matter?

  Finally, he just said, “Let’s get these packages inside. So that we can make some kids happy.”

  And so he could pretend he wasn’t stupidly falling in love with her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She didn’t bring it up again until dinner, but once they were both sitting in a dark booth at Golden Palace, Riston’s only Chinese restaurant, Dink tried to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Jace’s history with the ranch. They’d spent the afternoon scooting around Riston, and checked three more things off their list. The programs would be ready to pick up on Monday, Will and Ellie’s marriage license was carefully ensconced in the SUV’s glove box, and they’d even had time to stop at the drugstore for a few items—safety pins, Band-Aids, bobby pins and clear nail polish—that Dink figured Ellie or the other bridesmaids might need on Tuesday.

  The only bummer about the afternoon—and really, after the morning’s kiss, it was pretty amazing anything could be a bummer—was getting the call from the mechanic down in Moscow. Apparently Wanda—her trusty sedan—couldn’t be fixed. Or rather, it would cost about twice as much to fix her cracked engine block—whatever that meant—as the car was worth. Dink sadly accepted the news and arranged for the shop to hold onto the sedan until after the wedding. She figured she’d have to find a way to get rid of the car, and buy a new one.

  Dink had sighed as she’d hung up the phone. Not an expense she needed right now.

  “What’s up?” Jace had asked.

  “My car’s officially dead. No hope of resuscitation. I’ve gotta figure out a way to get a new one, I guess.”

  That’s when he took her hand. They’d been walking back from the drugstore, her purchases dangling in a little white bag between them, and it felt right somehow, to let him hold both. “I’m sorry. Can I take you to dinner?”

  She forced a grin as she shoved her phone back in her bag, and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Like, another date?”

  “Like, a memorial supper in your car’s honor. We can tell stories and remember it in song.”

  She’d giggled. “I like you when you’re silly, Jace.”

  He’d pretended to be offended—she liked even more that she could tell when he was pretending—and steered her into the Chinese place. Which is how they were now sitting across from each other, waiting for their veggie lo mein and General Tso’s Chicken to be delivered.

  She didn’t want to talk about her car, though. She wanted to talk about the little window to his past he’d opened on the way from the ranch. “So. You were raised in Boise. Is that where your foster parents lived?”

  His wide, expressive mouth turn down in a frown and he looked away, staring out the window at the shadows lengthening on the sidewalk outside. “Some of them, yeah.”

  “And the others?” She knew he didn’t want
to talk about it, but she wasn’t ready to give up.

  “There was a home—an orphanage, I guess—down there too. The foster homes they placed me in were spread out.” His shoulders shook once, but she didn’t think he was laughing. “I had kind of a reputation. Difficult, the employees at the home called me. People looked at me—I was so much bigger than other kids—and they just expected it.”

  Dink ached to think that he’d been raised by ‘employees’, rather than a family. She reached across the table to take his hand, but he still didn’t look at her. “What about the foster family who sent you to River’s End Ranch? Did they think you were difficult?”

  He was pretending to be really interested in the view of the dusty little street outside, but she felt his fingers tighten around hers momentarily. “Yeah, at first.” He sighed. “Mrs. Raymond was a nice old lady, and was good with us ‘obstinate’ cases. The agency placed me with her when I was thirteen, after yet another family sent me back. Her husband didn’t like me much, but she was…”

  When a few moments passed without him continuing, Dink squeezed his hand. “She was what?”

  That’s when he turned to her, and she swore his eyes looked brighter than usual in the dim light. “She was special. She believed in me, and I started to believe in myself.”

  Dink’s chest tightened, and she gripped his hand harder. “She does sound special,” was all she could manage to get out past her dry throat.

  “She was always encouraging me to buckle down, to do well in school, to study and follow my agenda and make charts. She was the one who taught me how to tie a tie and how to take pride in my appearance, and be polite. Oh, man, she was a stickler for manners.” There was no doubt about it, Jace had tears in his eyes when he spoke about the woman who obviously had a profound effect on him.

  Dink smiled, even though she wanted to cry herself. “That explains so much about it.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you obviously became exactly what she wanted. Look at you.” She nodded at his ironed collar under the sweater. “You’re well-dressed, successful, and uptight. You must’ve worked hard to become who she wanted you to be.”

  His gaze dropped down to his chest, before flitting away again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You went to grad school for accounting, Jace. If that’s not ‘buckling down’, I don’t know what is.”

  This time, he snorted at her joke. Better than nothing, she supposed.

  “Once I discovered that I didn’t have to goof off in school, I realized that I liked math. I was good at it. That’s about all Mr. Raymond and I had in common.”

  “That was her husband?”

  Jace nodded. “He didn’t like me much, but we stayed out of each other’s way. He was totally on board with her sending me to the ranch every summer, because I think he was glad to have me gone.”

  Ahh, they’d gotten back around to the ranch at last. “So you’d come for the whole summer?”

  “River’s End Ranch used to do these summer camps, one week in the wilderness for kids and teens. The younger kids stayed in cabins along the river, but the older kids would camp out in the mountains.” His eyes had cleared up, but now they looked a little distant, like he was remembering something from long ago. “Canoeing, swimming, horseback riding, hiking, archery…it was like a dream come true for a lot of us. Mrs. Raymond said it’d build character, and she was right. I met Will that first year, and the rest is history.”

  She scrambled for something to say. “The Westons are a great family.”

  “Yeah, and they really welcomed me. Which was nice, to a kid without a family, you know?”

  Squeezing his hand again, she forced a smile. “I can imagine.” Did she sound like she was choking? Oh well. She kinda was.

  “After a few years, Mr. Weston hired me on as a counselor, alongside Will. We did the summer aquatics program, although Will was a terrible manager. I worked here every summer up until grad school. After that, things got too hectic, so I just stayed at the school down in Moscow, and then found a great job after.”

  “Mrs. Raymond must be so proud of you, and all you’ve accomplished.”

  Shoot. It must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because Jace dropped her gaze and looked out the window once more. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “She died when I was seventeen. Cancer. Right before I left for college, actually. They never officially adopted me, because Mr. Raymond wasn’t a big fan of mine, and now I guess I’m glad they didn’t.”

  He said it, but she didn’t believe it. She thought maybe, had his foster mother loved him enough to adopt him—even at age seventeen—he would’ve had more to hold onto all these years. “I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand again, and was gratified to feel him squeeze back.

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged again, like it was no big deal, but he was pretending again. “I guess you’re right, though. I guess I’m still trying to make her proud of me.”

  “She would be, Jace.” When he turned and met her eyes again, she nodded to let him know she was serious. “She’d be proud of the man you’ve become.

  Was that hope in his eyes? Did Dink’s opinion really mean that much to him? She hoped so, and gripped his fingers tighter. “I mean it. You’re motivated, and successful, and have found your way back to the ranch that meant so much to you as a kid. She’d be really happy for you.”

  There were tears in his eyes again, she’d swear to it. But instead of answering, he just nodded, and then the server bustled up with their dinner platters, and the mood was broken.

  Later, over her veggie lo mein, she pointed her chopsticks in his direction. “So, are you going to work at the summer camp next summer?”

  He smiled slightly as he stabbed at his General Tso’s chicken with his fork. She’d already teased him about his inability to use the chopsticks. “No. The ranch stopped doing the camp a few years back.”

  “What? Why?”

  He shrugged. “Will says the guy who was running it left, and no one else had much interest in reviving the program, so it got forgotten.”

  Dink paused, a noodle dangling halfway to her mouth. “Well, that’s dumb. It was obviously a great program, and all those kids got a lot out of it. Including you.” She jabbed the chopstick—and the noodle—in his direction, and pretended to ignore the way he flinched out of the way of the sauce. “They need to find someone to re-start it.”

  “You’re probably right.” Jace leaned slightly to his left, and she resisted the urge to flick the noodle directly at him, and instead popped it into her mouth. “But who?”

  “Well” –she shrugged and attacked her pile of lo mein once more— “you’re going to be here permanently now, and have experience with the camp. How about you?”

  “Me?” It was almost comical, how high his voice got. “No way. That’s a full-time job. It meant a lot to me to attend, and to even be a counselor, but I can’t coordinate or run it. Why don’t you do it?”

  “Wha—?” Dink had just shoved another bunch of noodles in her mouth, and now struggled to explain. “Wha…”

  He began to chuckle and moved farther out of the way. “Chew and swallow, Miss Impetuous.”

  She glared at him while she followed his suggestion. “I don’t know anything about running a camp.”

  “But you know a lot about kids. Those capes you make are pretty awesome.”

  “But…but…” She waved her chopsticks around, and ignored the way he eyed them warily. “Camp? You’ve gotta be a manager or a teacher or something for that. I’m just an artist. A seamstress.”

  In the blink of an eye, he’d dropped his fork, and had grabbed her free hand. Dink froze, arrested by the intensity of his gaze. “I think you’re so much more than that, Dink Redfern.”

  Her mouth opened to reply—probably something flippant—but then she slowly closed it, remembering the way his arms felt around her that morning. Remembering the desperate sweetness of his lips. Remembering him.

  So she squeezed his ha
nd back. “I think you’re pretty awesome too, Jace Cunningham.”

  He nodded once, but didn’t drop her hand.

  “So, would you consider it?”

  “Consider what?” She was still thinking about that kiss.

  “Consider staying here at the ranch. Working on the camp. Being with—”

  Being with him. The idea made her stomach all squiggly. Stay here? Stay in Idaho?

  Well, why not? Her trusty Wanda was no more, which meant that it was going to be a pain to move Hagrid and her machine and bin of material—plus her clothes!—anywhere anyhow. Ellie was here in Idaho, and it wasn’t like Dink had a home to go back to in Texas. All of her stuff was crammed into the tiny house already, minus whatever Muz and Dad were storing for her back in South Carolina. They actually had a ‘Dink Annex’ in their attic for everything she hadn’t been able to fit into her car when she’d moved out of Magnus’ place.

  “I…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I like it here.” I like you. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “Well. I mean.” She tried for a little grin, but failed. “Deciding to move to Idaho on the spur of the moment? Sounds pretty…impulsive, you know?”

  “Yes, I do.” He looked serious when he nodded. “And here I am, advocating it. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

  “You really want me to stay?”

  He squeezed her hand once more, then let it go. As he picked up his fork, he flashed her a quick grin. “I’m becoming pretty used to you, Dink. I like having you around.”

  It wasn’t exactly an I like you, but it would do. Dink nodded and poked at her noodles again. “Then I guess I’ll have to think about sticking around, won’t I?”

  “Good.”

  “In the meantime, let’s figure out how to convince Wade to restart those summer camps.” She took a big bite, then fumbled for her bag, and dug out the sketchpad and pencil she always carried. “Here,” she said through the food in her mouth. “Make a list.”

  “A list?”

  Dink swallowed as she nodded. “Of ideas. Stuff we have to do to convince Wade that the camps would be good for the ranch. Good for the kids around here. And profitable!” She was already scribbling. “That’s important. He’s got all the resources here already, after all. We’re only talking about hiring a few more staff, right? And if the kids all camp, it wouldn’t even cut into his bottom line for the summer, because guests could still rent all the cabins and rooms like normal.” She was writing as fast as she could. “Maybe we should just start with the older kids—the teens—for next summer, to ease ourselves back into the program?”