by Liz Isaacson
“Well, I don’t know what kind of women you’ve dated….” And she looked at him, those beautiful dark hazel eyes full of questions.
“Oh, you want the run-down right now?” he asked, surprised.
She tipped her head back and laughed. It was one of the most glorious sights and sounds Austin had ever seen and heard. He reached out and ran his fingers through the ponytail spilling down her back, rendering her mute and still.
Their eyes locked, and the now-familiar electricity between them pulsed and leapt, almost desperate to be let out.
“Not so fun to be put on the spot, is it?”
“I can tell you.”
“Maybe later,” she said, setting aside her own plate and cuddling into his side. He lifted his arm to put around her, creating another moment he wanted to memorize, never let go of. “I was just saying, I don’t know what kind of women you’ve dated, but I don’t really consider myself someone’s girlfriend until certain…events have transpired.”
“Oh?” Austin liked this game they were playing, but he hoped it wouldn’t turn south on him in the blink of an eye, the way a few other things had. “What are these events?”
“You know, going out. Talking. Holding hands.”
“We’ve done those things.”
“Okay, let me clarify. Going out more than once. I mean, tons of people go on first dates and end things there.”
“Are you askin’ me on a date, sweetheart?” He pulled her closer, glad when she didn’t resist.
“Yep,” she said, no fear or shame in her voice.
“All right. I think we can do that.”
“Tonight?”
Austin had no idea what the evening would bring, or when his brothers would be home. “We’ll see if we can make tonight work.” He desperately wanted to go out with her again, maybe get that kiss he hadn’t gotten last time because she’d started out the date as his fun, flirty Shay and ended it a completely different woman.
“And, you know…girlfriends kiss their boyfriends.” Her words landed in his ears and sank in deep, deep, deep.
“Oh,” he said, his voice strangled and tight. “So you want to kiss me too, is that it?”
She straightened, removing herself from his embrace and leaving him cold and wanting. When she looked at him this time, there was no teasing sparkle, no depth of fear, no hint of sadness. She was perfectly serious when she said, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, I think kissing is required first.”
Austin’s mouth went dry, and his gaze dropped to her lips. He’d wanted to kiss her since the moment he met her, but he didn’t want to do it in the backyard of the homestead, with eight cowboys just on the other side of the glass.
“That’s comin’,” he promised, his voice more husky than choked now.
Her eyebrows went up. “Yeah? When?”
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingertips down the side of her face, leaned in closer, thrilled and satisfied when she stilled and closed her eyes. “But it’s comin’ soon.” It took every ounce of willpower he had not to kiss her right then, to straighten, to stand. “Come on. We’ve gotta get back to work.”
She glared as she stood and collected her plate. “You’re a tease.”
He chuckled, swept one arm around her, and pressed his lips to her temple. “There. There’s your kiss. Satisfied?”
“Not even close to it,” she said.
He paused and turned his back to the house, positioning her right in front of him, protected from all the prying eyes inside. “I want it to be…better than this,” he whispered. “Kissing you in the backyard wasn’t what I had in mind.” He curled the ends of her ponytail through his fingers, watched her until she softened under his gaze. “All right?”
“It had better be spectacular then,” she said, a spark entering her expression.
“Oh, it will be, sweetheart. It will be.” He turned and went into the house, hoping he could be a better kisser than the two military boys she’d dated. It had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman, and he’d never felt as strongly about any of them as he did about Shay.
He went to work in the fields, and it was a good thing the machines could practically steer themselves, because Austin lost himself and the whole afternoon to thoughts of kissing Shay later that night.
Chapter Twelve
Shay felt like she’d taken all the pieces of herself, mixed them up, and thrown them into the wind. She had no idea where they’d land, or which ones would break which would get lost, or which she wanted back.
She didn’t know much of anything anymore. Austin Royal had disrupted her life so fully that she was questioning everything she thought she knew.
Because maybe she was interested in falling in love.
Maybe she could give her heart to a man—the right man.
Maybe the outcome between them could be happy, not tragic.
Maybe she’d made a mistake by freaking out and shutting down over nothing.
Maybe, maybe.
May-be…may-be…
The word plagued her, pumped through her with her pulse, as she set the irrigation systems in the east sector of the ranch. It was long, hard work, but she didn’t mind it. As a teenager, she’d worn headphones to pass the time, but now, she walked in silence along the footpaths between the fields, the peace and comfort that only came when she let the quiet into her soul finally arriving after she’d gotten the sprinklers in the third field started.
By the time she returned to the crossroads on the ranch, dusk was settling. Her back hurt, and she wondered if she even had enough energy to go out with Austin that night. A figure sat on her front steps, and she paused. Both dogs continued forward, undaunted and unafraid, but Shay couldn’t quite tell who was waiting for her.
“Hey.” Austin’s voice reached her, and she moved forward again to join him.
She laced her fingers in his, beyond rational thought with the man. At some point after their argument and subsequent talk yesterday afternoon, she’d decided to be more reactionary with him. Less inside her head. More in the moment.
“I’m exhausted,” she admitted.
“Me too.” He squeezed her fingers. “And Shane is too, and he just got home, and he…I can’t go out tonight. I’m sorry.”
Relief rushed through Shay, and she laid her head against Austin’s upper arm. “It’s fine.”
“Maybe I can get on home and see what’s what, and then we can sneak away to look at the stars later.”
“Just here on the ranch?”
“Dylan says you only have to take the ATV about five minutes away, and the sky is spectacular. Says it opens right up and the whole of the heavens spills out.”
Shay nodded, her eyes drifting closed. “Sure. Text me.” Sneaking away with him to stargaze sounded dangerous and romantic—spontaneous, something Shay never was. No, she was disciplined. Regimented. Routined. She didn’t sneak away to kiss cowboys. Heck, she didn’t usually leave her cabin after dark.
“All right.” He exhaled, his exhaustion evident. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll be in touch.” He kept her hand in his as he went up the front steps with her. He opened the door and let it drift into the house. Lizzy scampered inside, but Molly waited with Shay the way she usually did.
“There you are, beautiful.” He smiled down on her, and Shay was sure he’d kiss her now.
Right now.
Now…. The moment lengthened, and still he didn’t make a move. “I left something for you inside,” he said.
“What is it?”
“A surprise.” He released her hand, gave her one final smile, and went down the steps and on down the road toward the homestead. Left her kissless and alone, standing in the doorway of her dark cabin.
Molly sat beside her, panting. Forever panting, while Shay watched Austin until the darkness swallowed him. “What’d he leave, huh?” She entered the house, her nose working like her dogs, sniffing, sniffing. She couldn’t smell anything.
She flipped
on lights, closed the door, and immediately saw the plastic container sitting on the kitchen counter. She smiled and joy zipped through her when she saw it was soup.
From Kurt and May, Austin had written. She studied his handwriting, this note something already worming it’s way into her heart. In a world with so many digital messages, having something so personal as a handwritten note made Shay feel warm.
It’s chicken and wild rice soup. You like soups!
She giggled and touched the lid of the container as she continued reading. I’ve had this one, and it’s really good. I hope you like it. Hey, at least you don’t have to make dinner now. ~Austin
She set the paper down, stuck the soup in the microwave to heat, and typed out a text to him. Thank you for the soup. <3 <3 <3
The heart emojis might have been too much, but Shay didn’t allow herself to give them a second thought. She was grateful he’d provided dinner for her on this tiring day. And she did love him for it.
So she sent the text, fed her dogs, and enjoyed the chicken and wild rice soup before falling asleep on the couch, her phone tucked against her collarbone so she wouldn’t miss a call from the man she hoped to call her boyfriend very, very soon.
A vibration in her chest woke her only a moment before the shrill sound of an old-fashioned telephone. Shay bolted upright, glancing around to find all the lights blazing in her cabin. A loud thunk! indicated that she’d dropped her phone. It continued to ring, and she scrambled to get to the call before it went to voicemail.
She swiped it on, her eyes catching on Austin’s handsome profile picture, and said, “Hey,” hoping she’d caught it in time.
“You were asleep,” he said.
“I dozed off a little,” she admitted. “I still want to go.”
“Do you? You sure?”
Shay stood, already too-warm and partially drunk just from the sound of his voice. “I’m sure.”
“All right. I’m at Dylan’s now, and he’s givin’ me a lesson on the headlamps on the ATV. So I’ll be a few minutes, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“I’ll walk down.”
“You sure?” he asked.
“It’s a hundred yards. I’ll see you in a minute.” She hung up and scanned herself. The day’s clothes would have to do because she didn’t have time to shower or change. She did hunt down the thickest sweatshirt she owned and a pair of gloves. She’d driven an ATV plenty of times, and it could get downright chilly with the wind whipping in your face.
With that thought, she grabbed a hat too, a gray one she’d crocheted herself during a class at the church. She carried it in her hand as she left the cabin, telling Lizzy and Molly to stay. Beyond the circle of yellow lights cast by the porch lamps on Cabin Lane, the night seemed huge and all-encompassing.
Shay liked it. Liked the way it made her feel small and insignificant. Liked how it reminded her that there was something—someone—out there in charge of the universe. She caught movement outside Dylan’s tiny house, with the headlights from the ATV pointed east. Their low voices drifted on the silent night, but Shay couldn’t make out any words.
“Hey,” she called as she approached, hoping she wouldn’t startle them.
They both turned toward her, and one—Austin—separated himself from the other and came over. “Hey, beautiful.” He looked like he hadn’t taken a nap, but he still seemed happy to see her.
When he turned back to the ATV, Dylan had disappeared. Shay saw the door close just a moment before the light was sealed inside the tiny house, and she laced her fingers through Austin’s as they approached the vehicle.
“You’ve ridden one of these before, I assume,” he said.
“Loads of times. My dad used to assign me to the herd. He said all ranch owners should understand their cattle, the fields they like best, their movement patterns, all of it.” She gazed into the distance, remembering the long hours on the ATV, just her and the wild grasses. The cattle never seemed to do anything interesting, no matter how many months she tracked them, made notes, or talked with her dad. He put them on the same field rotation he’d been using for a decade, and nothing changed. Nothing at Triple Towers ever did.
Until her mother had died.
Shay shelved the thoughts. “It wasn’t my favorite chore.”
“What was?” he asked.
“Taking care of the cow-calves,” she said. “I loved giving them bottles and listening to them bleat and then sending them out with the herd.”
Austin grinned at her and swung his leg over the seat. She hesitated for a moment, admiring the width of his shoulders, before she sat behind him. Her arms seemed to know exactly what to do, though it had been years since she’d ridden with another person on an ATV.
But she held onto him tight and pressed her cheek between his shoulder blades. He started out slow and soon enough revved the engine until they seemed to be flying through nothing but black silk.
Shay started laughing, slowly releasing her grip on Austin’s body. She flung her arms wide, keeping a grip on the vehicle with her thighs, her hair streaming behind her.
Austin slowed and parked and let her get off first. “You liked that, huh?” He cut the headlights and Shay’s eyes struggled to adjust to the deep darkness that could only exist out in the country.
“Yeah,” she said, almost breathlessly. “That was awesome.” She finally found the shape of him just a few feet away, and she fumbled her hand in his. “No moon tonight.”
He squeezed her fingers and lifted the seat where they’d just been riding. He pulled a blanket out and paced several feet away before spreading it on the ground. A great sigh came from him as he sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Shay joined him, both of them easing to the ground as he put his arm around her and drew her into his side.
“Ah,” he said. “This is beautiful.”
There was peace in the stars. Beauty in the heavens. Comfort in his strong, warm embrace.
All of Shay’s secrets threatened to flow from her lips, but she bit them back. She didn’t want to ruin this wonderful moment he’d clearly worked to create. They were getting along great, and he didn’t need to know about her issues. She didn’t want to think about them. Obsess over whether or not she could give her heart to this man and not expect it back in mangled pieces.
She just wanted to be.
To be with him.
“Shay?” he whispered.
“Yeah?” She kept her voice equally quiet as if they were hiding from monsters.
“Wondering if now might be a good time for that kiss.” His hand tightened on her elbow, and Shay twisted her face toward his.
Her eyes had adjusted enough to see the apprehension on his face, and a giggle slipped out of her mouth. She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d left town and joined the Army without telling her father.
“I certainly hope so.”
The witty, fun-loving Austin could’ve made a joke, but he simply reached up with his free hand and cupped her face, drawing her closer and closer. Closer still. She let her eyes drift closed, every cell and nerve and follicle tense, waiting.
“I haven’t kissed anyone in a while,” he admitted, his breath brushing her cheek he was so close. So close.
“Me either.” She wanted him to just do it already. Couldn’t he tell she was about to combust?
Finally his lips touched hers, a barely-there touch that made her shiver and shake. He formed his mouth to hers and kissed her like he meant it, and though all she could see was blackness, she felt like she was swimming in a sea of stars.
“I really like you,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her again.
“I like you too.” She kissed him back, her fingers slipping into his caramel-blond hair the way she’d dreamt of. She stroked his beard, and kissed him until she felt sure her lips would bruise. And she still couldn’t get enough.
She had no idea she could feel this way about a man. She’d never experienced anything like it
before, and when he finally broke their connection and tucked her back into his side, her heart was galloping like a herd of wild mustangs.
She closed her eyes again, reliving the gentle pressure of his mouth against hers.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m trying really hard to stay out of my head when I’m with you.”
Austin shifted so he was facing her, cradling her in his arms. He pushed her hair off her face. “Still scared?”
“Yes.”
He bumped his nose against hers. “Me too. But that was okay, right?”
She tried to search his eyes in the darkness, but they were just endless pools. “Austin,” she whispered, trailing her fingers along his earlobe. “That was way better than okay.”
“Mm.” He growled and kissed her again, and Shay gladly went along with every caress, thinking this was the absolute perfect night, with the absolute perfect man.
Chapter Thirteen
Austin’s headache ran deep, and the four painkillers he’d taken with breakfast hadn’t touched the pounding behind his temples. If it wasn’t for his scratchy throat, he’d just take more pills, drink more caffeine, and find some sugar and hope for the best.
But as he climbed up to the seat of the tractor, he knew he was getting sick. He hated getting sick more than anything else. He dashed off a quick text to his mother, who had a couple dozen home remedies for sore throats and headaches, and he waited for her response before rumbling out to the fields.
His phone vibrated, but it wasn’t Austin’s mother.
He hissed out a sigh, but his eyes had already caught on his father’s message. What about Christmas Eve here in San Antonio?
Austin wanted to throw his phone as far as his muscles could get it, and he stabbed at his phone as he formed his response.
No thanks.
He had a whole lot more to say, including how exhausted this game made him, but he hoped he could get his meaning across with fewer words.