Promises Under the Peach Tree

by Joanne Rock

  “That’s just it.” He took a deep breath and released it on a slow huff. “Seeing Ally be...just the amazing kid that she is really started challenging my old ideas.”

  The tension in him relaxed, truly, genuinely eased, no flash of any reservations in his eyes. Her final fears slid away from her, and she allowed hope to swell again, filling every corner of her heart. She squeezed his hand.

  “Ally is pretty incredible,” she agreed, hoping the girl would find new peace in Heartache with a new support network around her and a better understanding of the challenges she faced.

  And wasn’t that an interesting notion to wrap her brain around? Home was where you faced your challenges. Ally had figured that out decades ahead of Nina. Everyone had challenges of their own, in different forms, sure, but what counted in the end was how they faced them—head-on.

  “Without question.” Mack nodded, turning to look over his shoulder as a loud bark of laughter came from the other side of the wall of pumpkins as a group of teens ran past on the fairway. Mack’s attention came back to Nina. “Ally might not have had the easiest path, but look at all she’s already accomplished without the help of any therapy. With help, that girl is going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Definitely.” Now, the hopefulness in Nina was too big to contain. Her heart expanded in her chest, and a fizzy sensation made her feel light as air.

  “Then my mother, of all people, stood next to me during the coronation and reminded me that the medicines today are better, and with all we know about the disease, my kids wouldn’t have the same uphill battles that my mother did. Mental health issues get recognized and treated earlier.”

  “Plus, you’d be more aware of the warning signs,” Nina reminded him gently, hoping she’d be a part of this picture he was drawing, but not wanting to rush this huge shift in Mack’s thinking.

  A shift she had his mother to thank for.

  Nina’s heart ached with gratitude. My God, how far they’d all come from that heartbreaking night eight years ago.

  “And so would you.” Mack’s hands went around her shoulders, a warm, wonderful weight. “You would be the best, most incredible mother any kid could ask for.”

  Her cheeks warmed. She had enough family issues of her own to really appreciate that compliment, but it made her happy all the same. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry our relationship has been so backward that we’re talking about kids first.” The corner of his lips hitched up in a smile she’d seen on his niece earlier in the night. A beautiful smile on both faces. “But to put the horse back in front of the cart, I need to tell you, again, and this time forever...I love you, Nina.”

  The words were a joy to hear. Not that she hadn’t known how he felt...she’d seen it in his eyes when they made love. Felt it in his touch. But the fact that he was comfortable enough to say it made all the difference.

  “I’ve loved you longer. From the very first moment I saw you,” she said simply. “And with all the fierceness of my heart.”

  A smile spread over his tanned, handsome face, lighting his eyes. His arms went around her and squeezed her tight, showing her a thing or two about the fierceness he felt, too. She settled in the broad familiarity of his chest and let herself savor dreams of leaning into that same embrace decades from now.

  “Nina, love,” he whispered against her hair, “while we’re figuring out this incredible future together, I’m hoping you can help me with one last detail.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m not sure where to live.”

  She eased back so she could hear him better. This part of the plan, she could handle. In fact, she could handle anything now. With Mack at her side, she could tackle the world.

  “Nashville is only an hour away. Why don’t you commute a few days a week and spend a few of the nights up there. We don’t need to figure out every detail right now. It’s enough that we are going to be together.”

  “We’re going to be together.” He repeated it, his eyes locked on hers with new determination.

  She couldn’t stop smiling. “We can house hunt midway in between Nashville and Heartache, if you want. Or keep splitting time with two smaller places. I can go up there on weekends and find some extra help for Gram when she needs it.”

  “I want to show you the bar.” He stroked his hand down her hair, sifting his fingers through the ends. “But I could start another one closer to Heartache.”

  She hadn’t considered he would actually put down roots here, too. But she had to admit, his idea had potential. The business side of her could see a market here. So many possibilities, amazing possibilities filled her mind.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she promised, arching up on her toes to kiss his lower lip and bite it softly. “Tonight is going to be the start of our forever.”

  His lips slanted over hers and he kissed her until her knees went weak and she tumbled into his arms. She wrapped hers around his neck and held on tight while the jack-o’-lanterns grinned their approval.

  “I love you so much, Nina.” Mack’s words were a promise that warmed her to her toes despite the fall chill.

  Inside, a break in the music made the night quiet for a moment before a slower tune began.

  “I love you, too.” Nina threaded her fingers through his and tugged him toward the dining hall, their family and friends. “And I’m going to have that dance from you, Mack Finley.”

  “We’ll show them the old Harvest king and queen still have their moves.” Mack followed her up the gravel fairway through the festival grounds, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “We’ll show them what a couple in love looks like. I want to dance until I’m dizzy under the yellow lights.” She spun in a happy circle as they reached the doors covered in fall leaves.

  “You’ll dance until it’s time to go home with me,” he clarified, his voice rough with desire.

  “For good,” she added.

  “Forever.” He kissed her lips once more before opening the door to a life she couldn’t wait to begin.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MORE THAN A RANCHER by Claire McEwen.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  WHEN JENNA’S BEST friend described the scenery in the Eastern Sierra, she’d called it soothing and peaceful. But as Jenna stood on a dirt road next to a barren pasture, staring at the pancaked tire on her beloved Mini Cooper, those were not the words that came to mind. She muttered a few of the four-letter variety instead and looked around, wondering what to do next.

  Sagebrush, punctuated by beige grass, rolled along for miles eastward. To the west, beyond the highway she’d left behind a few bumpy miles ago, the Sierra Nevada sheered upward in an empty, vast wilderness of gray granite. The mountains rolled on, peak after peak, as far as she could see. Jenna and Samantha agreed on most things, but today Jenna would have to take issue with her best friend’s feelings about this place. There was nothing soothing here. Intimidating was a far better word.

  Sighing, Jenna walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, taking her cell phone out of her purse. No reception, of course. Not when she needed it most.

  This was crazy. She should have called off the tri
p when her blender exploded this morning. Jenna wasn’t completely superstitious, but the smoothie spattered all over her kitchen walls had felt like a sign. As if the universe was telling her to crawl back in bed, pull up the covers and stay safely home in San Francisco.

  While she’d wiped up the smoothie bits, Jenna had fought the temptation to call Samantha and cancel their plans. She’d been up late last night, hosting a Latin dance party at the ballroom where she worked, and her warm bed had looked incredibly inviting. But her friend was planning her wedding and wanted help. Plus, Jenna felt guilty that she’d never even seen the ranch that Samantha lived on with her fiancé. So she’d dismissed her premonition and forced herself to load up her car and get on the road. And that was when everything started going wrong.

  First was the phone call from Jeff. During that disastrous conversation, Jenna learned that there was nothing like an ex-boyfriend confessing to numerous infidelities to make a girl wish she’d stayed hidden beneath her covers all day. Jenna had pulled over, thrown up, cried, then driven to the nearest convenience store for the most massive soda she could find.

  Sugar, bubbles and caffeine had worked their magic and she’d managed to continue her calamitous journey. And now here she was, with a flat tire, stuck beyond nowhere. The smoothie volcano had been a sign. And she’d been a fool not to pay attention.

  Jenna opened the glove compartment and rummaged around for the owner’s manual. Next time she would listen to her instincts when her kitchen appliances started erupting. This was crazy—she had no idea how to change a tire. Opening the booklet, she started reading. She hated diagrams and instructions of all kinds, but maybe if she stared at them long enough, a miracle would occur and she’d figure them out.

  For an instant she was back in school, trying to focus on the textbooks while her teachers looked on in disappointment. Panic fluttered. One step at a time, she told herself. That was the way to get through anything complicated, whether it was a dance routine at the ballroom or a flat tire on a wrong-turn dirt road.

  The manual said there should be a jack in the back of the car, so Jenna set the little book on the roof, opened the hatchback and pulled out her bags to uncover the compartment where the tool was allegedly hidden. As she moved her duffel bag, her iPod slid out and dropped to the ground. She picked it up and automatically put the earbuds in. Music was a huge part of her life. It soothed her, helped her think—and she needed all the help she could get right now.

  The iPod was set to the song that she and Brent, her dance partner, were using for their upcoming competition. Jenna touched the arrow to play it. At least she could get more familiar with the rhythms while she tried her hand at auto repair.

  Jenna walked over to the offending wheel, clutching the object she hoped was the jack. She set it gingerly on the ground and began reading the manual again. The words still weren’t sinking in. Instead the upbeat tune vibrated through her body, and her mind drifted from the dry instructions on the page to the cha-cha routine she and Brent were choreographing.

  Maybe if she just focused on dancing for a moment, it would clear her head and she’d be able to figure out how to remove this pathetic tire.

  Jenna tapped her toe in time with the verse. When the chorus came around again, she launched into the spiral turns that Brent had suggested. It was fast-paced, but Brent was right. The turns fit beautifully.

  Jenna did a few basic steps through the next verse and tried the turns again. Still perfect. She closed her eyes and pictured what came next. Oh, yes, a shimmy, then a body roll down...and then she heard a cough and whirled around in horror, yanking the earbuds out.

  A man on horseback was watching her from a small rise several yards away. Wariness flooded Jenna as her urban instincts set in. She inched a little closer to the jack and casually picked up the handle. Weapon in hand, she felt embarrassment follow. Why had she decided to dance here, of all places?

  The man walked his horse closer and she waited, shoving her iPod into the back pocket of her jeans. Then she saw a huge smile emerge from under the wide brim of the man’s cowboy hat. He was laughing. Relief seeped in when she saw that he wasn’t a man at all but a teenage boy with a wide, goofy grin. She set the jack handle down.

  “Morning.” The boy stopped laughing and rode his horse a few steps closer. The big chestnut almost dwarfed his slight frame. “You’re a good dancer.”

  Jenna looked up at him, shading her eyes against the sun to better see his face. He had olive skin and black hair under his straw hat. His eyes were wide and dark, framed in thick lashes. His grin was friendly, not sarcastic or self-conscious like some of the more surly teens who showed up at her youth dance classes.

  “Thank you,” she said. “And that’s a lovely horse.” She stepped forward and held out her hand, the horse’s silky nose brushing gently over her knuckles. Looking down its flank, she saw the big hindquarters. “A quarter horse?”

  “You know horses?” The boy seemed genuinely surprised and Jenna smiled for the first time that day.

  “They do have them in other places,” she teased gently. “I grew up riding.” The scent from the horse’s strong, sun-warmed neck took her back in time to long adolescent afternoons at the stable in rural Marin County, north of San Francisco. She’d loved horses then. She’d even abandoned dance for a few years to ride as much as possible.

  “Do you always dance outside?”

  It was an innocent question but Jenna blushed. “My tire’s flat. I was trying to figure out how to fix it, but I got a bit distracted.”

  “That happens to me all the time! It makes my dad crazy. My brothers, too. Well, everyone, really.”

  “You mean you get distracted? Or get distracted and start dancing?”

  His laugh was genuinely merry. “Both.” He swung a leg over the horse’s back and dismounted gracefully. “You look like you could use a rescue.”

  She did need rescuing, but usually the damsel in distress had a handsome prince coming to her aid, not a kid. Just her luck. “I could absolutely use a rescue. I must’ve turned the wrong way off the highway. Is this your land? I’m sorry if I’m trespassing.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He waved his arm around in a vague gesture that encompassed the gigantic landscape around them. “It’s my family’s ranch.”

  “Really?” Jenna asked. “Does that make you a cowboy?”

  The boy grinned and pointed to his hat. “Well, I’ve got the gear. But we mainly have sheep. Shepherd doesn’t sound quite so good, though.” He walked his horse a little ways off the road to where a patch of weathered brown grass grew between the sagebrush. He left it to nibble and came back toward her, his eyes on the Mini. “That’s an awesome car.”

  “It’s great for San Francisco—that’s where I live,” she told him. “It fits into the tiniest parking spaces.”

  “Not so great for out here, though.” His smile was infectious and softened his words.

  “Obviously not! I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I do, actually. I was lost.” Distracted first, then lost. Distracted by a phone call from her traitorous, cheating boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself with a twisting feeling in her heart.

  “Where were you headed?”

  “My friend’s ranch. I think I turned off too soon. Or maybe in the wrong direction.”

  “Well, I can help you get going again. But you need to be careful out here. No more off-roading.”

  “Point taken.” Jenna smiled. She liked his teasing—he seemed like a sweet kid.

  The “kid” didn’t even look at her manual. He just grabbed the jack and started cranking up the car. Jenna felt silly. He changed the tire as if it were the easiest chore in the world, and she hadn’t even been able to figure out if the jack was a jack.

  In no time, he had the flattened tire off and was pulling her spare out of the trunk.
“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly looked shy, more of an awkward teenager than he’d seemed before.

  “Of course,” Jenna answered.

  “Are you a dancer? A real dancer?”

  Jenna looked at the boy in surprise. “Well, I’m not sure what you mean. I dance, I teach, I compete—does that make me a real dancer?”

  He grinned. “Yes!” he answered emphatically as he set the spare tire in place and picked up a bolt.

  “Well, this might make you change your mind about that—I’m a ballroom dancer,” she said.

  The boy’s eyes widened. “You mean like on TV, on that celebrity dance show?”

  Jenna couldn’t help it. His words were so unexpected she started to laugh. “I’m sorry.... It’s just not what I expected! You watch dancing? Ballroom dancing?”

  “Yeah! I watch all the shows. I try to learn stuff off of the internet, too.”

  The excitement in his voice was palpable and Jenna was amazed. She would never have pegged this boy, who looked so at home in this rugged country, to be a fan of television dance programs. “Do you study dance?” she asked.

  He shook his head regretfully. “We have line dancing, Western dancing, that kind of stuff. But no dance school around here.” He glanced around as if worried someone might hear him. “Even if there was, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to take classes.”

  “Why not?”

  “My family doesn’t exactly approve of boys—” he made quotation marks in the air in front of him “—waltzing around in tights.”

  “Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Jenna asked softly, studying the teen’s profile. His focus was back on the tire but his mouth was a grim, frustrated line. “If it’s any consolation, my family’s still trying to get me to go to law school.” She truly felt for him.

  “Really?” His expression brightened at that. “Are you gonna go?”

  “No,” she answered. “I’m a dancer, even if they don’t see it.”