I melt into him, and the spoon clatters to the floor, reminding me of where we are.
“Oh, uhm . . . sorry, Mama Louise.”
My apology seems unneeded given the smile on her face, though. She looks at Luke and raises one eyebrow. “Two minutes to say hello properly . . . not in my busy kitchen. And not a second more, or I’ll send Brody out to hunt you down.”
Luke doesn’t waste a bit of our one hundred and twenty seconds, making a grab for my hand. Behind me, I hear Mama Louise laugh and say, “Katelyn, can you wash that spoon for me, please?”
On the back porch, Luke presses me up against the wall, just out of view of the prying eyes inside. I expect him to basically maul me for the short time we have, but his touch is gentle as he cups my face. His eyes search mine as he slips a lock of hair behind my ear. “You are a sight for sore eyes, honey. I’ve missed you so much, been so worried. Are you okay?”
He truly wants an answer, and that means more to me than he could possibly imagine. He’s not telling me what he thinks, not demanding anything from me. He simply wants to know what I’m feeling. Good, bad, or ugly, he’ll hear me out.
“I’m good. Even better now.”
His breath is jagged, like my words have relieved some wound inside him. “You okay?”
“I am now,” he says. The words are breathed against my lips as he finally kisses me.
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I can hear a ticking clock. Sixty seconds, Shayanne. Make them count.
I hook my fingers into his belt loops, pulling him to me and matching him move for move as we reacquaint ourselves with each other. He tastes like mint, smells like leather, and feels like home.
He must have an internal alarm, too, because all too soon, he pulls back and presses his forehead to mine. “Love you, honey.”
I smile, knowing he can see the lift of my cheeks even if he’s too close to see my mouth. “Love you too.”
“You ready for this? Eating dinner at my mama’s table is kind of a big deal. The holiday makes it even more so.”
He says it carefully, like he’s testing me out.
“You think I don’t know that? I changed clothes three times before I even went downstairs. But you know what?” I pause, and he waits for me to continue. “Inviting someone to dinner might be a major thing for you and me, but my whole family’s being here is a big deal too. It’s a step in the right direction, even if I had to kick ’em to get them out the door.”
He grins, pulling away so I can see the way it makes his eyes glitter. “I can’t wait to hear that story, but we’d better get inside before Mama sends Brody to find us and I’ve got his little sister pinned up against the wall, doing filthy things to her.”
I groan, his words making me want him to take me against this wall.
Okay, maybe not this one, and definitely not right now with our families ten feet away. But ooh, he knows how to light me up.
“That’s a dirty trick, Luke Bennett. I’ll remember that later,” I tease.
He laughs and then sobers. “You look beautiful, Shayanne. Happy Thanksgiving.”
* * *
Dinner’s actually not that bad, once we get rolling. I’d been afraid it’d be long stretches of silence and awkward get-to-know-you questions, but the food is the great denominator and brings everyone together.
We sit around the makeshift extra-long table, even having a few empty spaces with the two pushed together, and pass the platters around. There’s plenty of food, both Mama Louise and me outdoing ourselves if I do say so myself, and each dish is more delicious than the last.
“Mama Louise, you’ll have to give me the recipe for your green bean casserole. I’ve only ever made the one off the can of fried onions, and I can tell there’s something extra in your version,” I venture.
Sophie moans her appreciation over her second helping. “It’s the best, even better than turkey. Not that the turkey’s not delicious, but green beans are suddenly my new favorite food.” Her eyes roll back in her head and her lashes flutter as she takes another bite.
We all look at her, internally laughing at her exaggerated adoration over vegetables, of all things, but she’s got no shame as she digs in for another forkful. James looks at her tenderly as he spoons the ones from his plate onto Sophie’s. Her chipmunk-full cheeks lift and she points her fork at him. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“It’s not a big secret, I’m afraid,” Mama Louise admits. “I just add freshly fried bacon, onions, and mushrooms to the green bean mixture. I dice them all up and sauté them down so they’re invisible before adding them. Had a few picky eaters who wouldn’t eat it if there were ‘chunks’ in it.” She says it with a smile, like a selectively choosy kid is just one of those things.
“I’ll definitely try that,” I tell her, wishing I had my notebook to jot down her tips. I left it at home today, a symbolic gesture that this is my day off. No lists, no diary entries, no reminders. Just living in the moment, thankful for the gifts of today.
Family.
Friends.
Love.
Another day on this Earth.
Because none of those things are a given.
At some point, conversation turns to cows, which is another surefire conversational safe zone with this crowd. Brody even joins in when Mark and Sophie talk about a trip to the winter auction to buy and sell a few more head of cattle.
I swear that pigs are flying when they joke about some big wannabe cowboy who showed up last year, not knowing a damn thing. Apparently, he bought all beef cattle thinking he was gonna raise them for milk.
The vibe around the table is relaxed, even friendly as Mama Louise serves up one of my smashed pumpkin pies for dessert. But I know it’s like getting comfortable on a tightrope. Just when you think everything is all good, that’s when you misstep and go tumbling down.
Baby steps, careful steps, slow and steady.
“Luke, when are you going out next? You’re not gonna miss the birth of your niece or nephew, are you?” James says, but there’s an undercurrent to the words I can’t figure out. He yelps, his eyes cutting to Mark. “Damn, just asking.”
I’ve seen that reaction at my own house. Mark just kicked James underneath the table, I’m sure of it. But why?
Luke takes a soft breath, his palm going to my thigh where he rubs a soothing pattern. Or it would be soothing if it wasn’t him and wasn’t my thigh. Or maybe if it hadn’t been days since I’d been under him or on top of him.
“I won’t miss it. I have to head out for a three-day weekend next week, but they’re well aware that if Sophie goes into labor early, I’m on the next plane out to get home. I always come back home.”
His last words are spoken to Brody, though James asked the question, and a ripple runs through the quiet air around the table. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, Luke, and Brody, ping-ponging between us.
“Actually, I wanted to ask . . .” Luke looks at me with those blue eyes that make me want to dive into them and backstroke for the rest of my life. “Shayanne, would you like to go with me? It’ll be a quick trip, and I’ll have to work, but you can see another working ranch and meet their horses.”
Erk, record scratch. What?
My jaw drops open in surprise as excitement bubbles up in my belly.
Brody pops the bubbles like they’re nothing, though, his voice deep and threatening. “That’s Shayanne’s birthday. No.” He says it like his word is law.
Luke licks his lips, trying to please Brody, I can see. “Her birthday is on Monday, and we’d be back Sunday night. Plenty of time to celebrate. I wouldn’t interfere with that, especially not a big birthday like twenty-one. The farmer’s market is that weekend, so you’ll probably be staying in town, anyway. And it’s karaoke open mic at Hank’s,” Luke says, turning to Bobby. “Could be fun?”
He’s thought of everything.
Except they’re talking about me like I’m not sitting right the fuck here.
�
�I would love to go,” I blurt out. Steadier, I declare, “Yes, I’ll go.”
Brody looks at me, flames rising in his eyes. He pushes back from the table, the chair legs making a screeching noise on the wooden patio floor, and walks to Mama Louise’s side, who looks up at him with some emotion running through her eyes. Disappointment, maybe?
He sticks out his hand. “Thank you for Thanksgiving dinner, ma’am.” She shakes his hand, looking like she’s biting her tongue to hold back whatever she wants to say. I imagine that’s not something she does particularly often.
Bobby stands next and does the same, a handshake and thank you before following Brody back into the house and toward the front door.
Bruce does it last, following suit, though I can tell he’s doing it reluctantly. Before he leaves, he looks back at me. “I’ll try to talk some sense into him. We’ll see you in the morning for breakfast?”
I nod glumly, all Thanksgiving progress having gone out the window into the cold fall night.
When it’s just the Bennetts and me, Mark glares at James. “Seriously?”
He throws his hands out to the side. “What? I was trying to give him an opening to tell Brody about the Luke-Annes. He’s the one who botched it!” he accuses.
My brows furrow. “Luke-Annes? Is that like when you ‘ship’ something? Like Jennifer Anniston and Ben Affleck were Bennifer? So we’re Luke-Annes?”
Luke groans, putting his head in his hands. “Sort of, but no? I’ll explain later, ’kay? After I kick James’s ass.”
“Language. And no one is kicking anyone’s ass on Thanksgiving,” Mama Louise announces, still calmly eating her pie like World War III didn’t just start around her. I notice that no one mentions her slip of the tongue.
* * *
I swear I meant to have crazy I-missed-you sex with Luke the instant we walk into his house after the chilly ending to what had been a lovely dinner and significant progress. But the last thing I remember is lying down while he got ready for bed. Lying down in his soft, warm, fluffy bed. Vaguely, I remember snuggling into his arms, feeling his body conform to mine from behind. And then . . . darkness.
It’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.
Chapter 26
Luke
“You sure about this?” I ask, hoping down to my guts that she says yes but occasionally being a decent enough guy to give her an out if she needs it. But I want this. If she’s changed her mind, I might just throw her over my shoulder and make a run for it. I’m sure I could eventually make her see reason with my tongue between her legs.
Her eyes light up instead, her gray sweater somehow making them seem brighter. Relief washes through me, and her smile eliminates any further worries.
“Of course. I’ve been busting my ass all week to get the soaps ready for the market and stock the fridge with food and beer, and I told Brody to get over himself no fewer than ten times before I left. I both hugged and flipped him off. Balance, you know.”
She kicks at her small pink suitcase by my front door with her boot. “I’m ready, so ready. I’m doing this, so let’s get to it,” she says, snapping her fingers at me, or maybe it’s at the situation.
There’s my woman, sass and fire and a healthy dose of country crazy. Fuck, I love her.
I’ve been worried about how buried she’s been, burning the candle at both ends for weeks. I know this is usually a busy time of year for her, and she’s had record-setting sales for her pies, but I think she’s going a little harder than usual to stay distracted. It’s a valid coping mechanism for grief but probably not the best one.
“All right, then. Your chariot awaits, honey.”
Outside sits Mark’s truck. He offered to drive us so that I wouldn’t have to leave my truck at the airport, and to no one’s surprise, he’s already sitting in the driver’s seat. We climb in and Shayanne relaxes into the warm air of the cab.
The drive goes by quickly as Shayanne chatters on about the new scents she made for this month’s farmer’s market. She seems most proud of her holiday lines, having created a ‘Gingerbread Cookies and Ma-a-a-a-lk’ scent and one she laughingly calls ‘Jolly Old Man’, which she explains is a blend of peppermint and pipe smoke to make her version of what Santa smells like.
Though she’s being funny, I can tell she’s nervous, filling the moments with her rambles to keep from focusing on the short flight we have in front of us. If Sophie weren’t pregnant, I would’ve driven for this visit, but with time being of the essence, the flight seemed the best bet. Plus, I know Shayanne hasn’t flown before and this is a small taste of the adventures I want to take her on. She deserves this type of thing.
Before I know it, we’re telling Mark goodbye with him promising to call me if anything happens with Sophie. He pulls away and I grab our bags. “Ready?”
Her smile is soft, in contrast to her furrowed brows. She takes a steadying breath and the tilt of her lips lifts a bit more. “Ready.”
* * *
The flight is uneventful, save for Shayanne’s squeal of jumpy delight when we take off and her excited applause when we land, but I love the feel of her hand in mine for the duration of our time thirty thousand feet above the Earth and the look on her face as she points out the window.
A stable hand from the facility I’m here to visit meets us at their airport. “Hey, J.R. How’s it going, man?” I say, shaking his hand. He’s got on the requisite boots, jeans, and dirt-smeared T-shirt, likely having left the stables just in time to make it to the airport.
He smiles in return, crinkles popping at the corners of his brown eyes. He’s not that old, mid-forties, maybe, but the long days in the sun take their toll. “Can’t complain. Don’t think I’m doing as well as you are, though.” His eyes turn to Shayanne and he offers her a nod. “Ma’am.”
I make introductions and we head for his truck. He raises his eyebrow in approval as we climb in, likely wondering how an asshole like me landed a woman as stunning as Shay. I just grin back like the cat that got the cream.
“How’s Bonnie doing?” I ask.
“She’s all right,” he hums, “but I think she needs you to work your magic.”
Shayanne stiffens next to me, almost imperceptibly, and I can’t help but smirk. “Bonnie’s their quarter horse, a successful breeding from a couple of seasons ago. Good and agile, but she’s not a track horse.”
J.R. laughs, sounding every bit the pack a day smoker he’s been for as long as I’ve known him. “Hell, you sound sad about that. The boss loves that little mistake, considering the others from that visit. We both know you ain’t here to train her, though. You’re here to train me on that rodeo stuff, and I’m a good enough horseman to admit it. Boss’s daughter wants to barrel race her when she’s old enough.”
I already knew that and made the plan accordingly, but Shay seems interested. She asks a few questions, and I sit back, letting her and J.R. talk. I watch her instead, mesmerized as she slips right into my world with ease.
She must feel my gaze because she pushes her hair behind her ear, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. Her small smile lets me know that she likes my eyes on her. As if they’d be anywhere else.
When we arrive at the ranch, J.R. grabs our bags from the back of the truck. “Boss said to put you in the apartment over the barn instead of the ranch house, seeing as you brought a friend.”
Shayanne balks, looking shocked. “Oh, please don’t go through any trouble for us. I’m sure we’d be just fine in the ranch house, if that’s easier.” Her eyes order me to tell J.R. that too.
“Thank you, man. Appreciate it,” I tell J.R. instead.
Some ranches have rules against females in their ranch house, and honestly, I haven’t seen their living arrangements here. For all I know, it’s bunk beds, a feed-trough urinal, and an outhouse bathroom. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen that. So I’ll happily take a barn apartment and cross my fingers and toes for heating and plumbing like the pansy ass I am. Plus, a bit of priva
cy with Shay can only be a good thing.
For one, I’m ready to hold her in my arms and really make sure she’s doing okay. And two, if she is all right, I want to spend the night buried inside her.
“You wanna go relax for a bit, or would you rather meet Bonnie?” I ask Shayanne, changing the subject.
“Bonnie,” she says definitively. The wry twist of her lip tells me she noticed I didn’t do as she said, but the smile she’s fighting says she knows why too.
We spend the whole afternoon in the chill of the late fall air, sunshine sparkling against the field of winter rye in the distance as I watch Bonnie and J.R. work their way around the dirt. I can do all the research, ask all the right questions, watch videos of my equine client, and make all the plans, but nothing is as useful as watching the horse in person. Their personality, their strengths, and their limits all play a major part. Bonnie is a fine animal and will do well with barrels if her rider is good too.
That’s where the training comes in. I have to get Bonnie ready to learn with her rider because eventually, they’ll be a close-knit team if everything goes as it should.
I lose track of time as J.R. and I work with Bonnie, gauging her responsiveness to things as mundane as a stranger’s touch to her willingness to follow a lead. A loud round of laughter breaks my concentration and draws my attention. When I look over, I see Shayanne sitting on the fence with a gaggle of cowboys surrounding her. She’s damn near holding court like a fucking queen as she listens raptly to some story an old guy is telling is her. Everyone laughs again at whatever he’s saying, his hands waving animatedly through the air.
She’s absolutely fucking stunning. And she’s mine.
She looks back to me and waves. I can see the older guys around her looking on knowingly, likely recognizing our love and feeling sentimental, though they’re too rough to ever admit it.
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 26