by Tori Kayson
“Gran brought over some dinner.” Jayce looked at him funny.
Or maybe exhaustion blurred his vision. It certainly wasn’t because his soul ached for a beautiful woman who’d awakened the song in his heart. An oil executive?
No, definitely not.
“That’s great.” He rubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw, the heavy whiskers scraping his fingers. Shower. Food. Bed. In that order. “Did Uncle Chips leave already?”
Jayce nodded. “He came in around six. Finished up his chores and headed for the shed.”
The shed was an old hen house that Fargo’s father and Uncle Chips had converted into a tiny studio when Uncle Chips came to live with them. Uncle Chips hadn’t wanted to be a burden, but Fargo remembered his parents telling Uncle Chips that family was everything. They took care of each other.
Nothing had changed.
The ranch was a family affair. Everybody had a job, and they were each on the payroll. Uncle Chips was a great foreman, but he didn’t want the added responsibility of being in charge, and Slade was too young.
If he didn’t ranch, who would take over and provide for his mother, sister and younger brother? What about his uncle’s well-being? He’d been stable and sober since coming to the ranch. And Maverick would never quit his job as Deputy US Marshal to take over the ranch.
No. He couldn’t leave. Even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. “You almost finished here, Jayce?” he asked, bone-deep weary.
“Yes, sir.” Jayce flicked off the switch, draping darkness over the barn’s interior.
They walked outside together.
“Darby left to go back to Dallas today,” Jayce said, his tone laced with hurt. “She didn’t say goodbye.”
Fargo slung an arm around Jayce’s shoulder. “Yeah. I know.”
“Do you think she’ll come back?”
“I don’t know, son.” Fargo swallowed the heavy lump of emotion and forced his legs to carry him to the house. “I don’t know.”
~ CHAPTER 20 ~
Fargo swung the hammer back then brought it crashing against the nail. He repeated the process until his shoulder and arm muscles screamed and wood splinters flicked to the ground.
“Tarnation, son. What are you trying to prove? The building needs to be standing when we’re done with it.” Uncle Chips glared up at him.
“I’m not trying to prove anything.” Working the tension from his tightly strung limbs, yes. Trying to rid himself of any lingering bitterness and anger over Darby’s leaving, yes. But prove something? That he was an idiot? Maybe. He mashed the hammer in his tool belt and navigated his way down the ladder.
Two weeks. Darby had only been gone two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. She hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t—
What did he expect? He hadn’t really left the door open for communication.
His heart prompted him to call her, to give her the benefit of the doubt, to listen to her explanation, to give them a chance. His brain ticked off all the reasons he shouldn’t. Neither was winning the battle, and all he had to show for it was two weeks of thrashing between the sheets and a body that screamed for release. He’d worked harder and longer over the last two weeks than he had the entire three months after his father’s death.
He made it to the ground. When he turned around, his uncle stood so close that their boot tips almost touched. A mixture of coffee and smoke blasted from his uncle’s nostrils.
Fargo edged back until the hot metal rungs of the ladder seared through his cotton shirt.
“You sure?” His uncle’s wiry eyebrows scrunched together underneath the wide brim of his hat. The skin under his bottom lip puffed out. He whipped his head to the side and a stream of tobacco juice splattered the ground. “Because it sure looks that way. Haven’t seen you this worked up since…”
Uncle Chips left the rest of the words unsaid. Since Jennie’s suicide.
“Yeah. I know.” He took his hat off, mashed a hand through sweat-dampened hair, and glanced up at the darkening sky.
He missed spending time with Jayce in the evenings. Lately, he walked in the front door about the time Jayce came out of the shower, ready for bed. But that didn’t leave any time for Jayce to ask questions, right? No reminders of what was missing from his life. Who was missing.
He scowled. This was his problem, not Jayce’s. He shouldn’t take it out on his son.
“I’m done here. Let’s call it a day.” He unlatched the tool belt and slung it over his shoulder. Plopped the hat back on top of his head. Stalked to the barn.
“Still swooning over that gal with the oil conglomerate?” Uncle Chips stumbled alongside, keeping pace.
Fargo heaved a sigh. “Swooning isn’t—”
“It is when she’s all you can think about. What’s keeping you from hopping in that truck and taking a drive into town?”
They reached the barn. Fargo put the tool belt away and turned to face his uncle, frustration leaking out in his voice. “What’s the point? I told you. She’s not ranch material.”
“I thought we went over that already. She seemed to enjoy herself here. What’s to say you can’t convince her?” Uncle Chips twisted his head and another stream hit the ground. “Or for that matter, there’s nothing wrong with just enjoying each other’s company every so often. Makes those Friday nights not so long and lonely. Dallas isn’t that far away.”
Fargo flicked off the light switch, bathing the barn with only the single florescent. They stepped outside and halted at the opening.
He snorted, disgusted by Uncle Chips’s idea of ‘enjoying each other’s company.’ He’d seen his uncle’s exaggerated swagger back to the shed on Saturday mornings after a Friday night stay in town. “Darby deserves more than occasional Friday night visits from a rancher who can’t see a future with her, and I refuse to use her just to satisfy a need.”
And especially not when he had an impressionable son at home. He wanted Jayce to grow up respecting women. Not viewing them as a means to an end or a possession to be used whenever the urge struck. And he surely wouldn’t allow some half-brained cowboy to treat his sister that way. No way. His sister deserved better.
Jennie had deserved better than him and their few stolen moments of white hot passion in a dusty hayloft. He should have been a better man, the man of honor his parents raised him to be. When he’d confessed that Jennie was pregnant, they’d stood by his decision to marry her. Even though they must have known that it was a mistake before the ink dried on their marriage license.
He should have allowed her the freedom she sought rather than tying her down to the ranch with a marriage proposal. But, he just couldn’t imagine creating something as sacred as a baby together and then not being around to watch that child grow.
He craved a weather-all-kinds-of-storms, forever love like his parents. A love based on mutual respect and admiration, a love that survived the tough times, a love that went the distance. Not something based on outer beauty that faded over time or a few moments of unrestrained passion. He refused to make that mistake again.
Uncle Chips’s leathery cheeks scrunched and he twisted to let loose another stream. His arm swiped his mouth. “Well, son, that wasn’t quite what I meant but you can take it however you like. I’m just sayin’ there’s no reason why, if the two of you feel the same way about each other that you can’t make something work. You might rack up a few miles on that truck of yours, but Dallas is totally doable.” Uncle Chips scowled and moved toward the shed, but as usual, had to get the last word in. He angled his head over a shoulder and muttered, “Dallas. Just Dallas. Not San Antonio for cryin’ out loud.” His uncle staggered toward the shed, hard living and long days in the saddle hunching the man’s shoulders and giving him a stiff gait.
In a few more years, Jayce would leave home to find his own way in the world. Maybe that would mean coming back home to the ranch. But maybe not. Would Fargo end up like Uncle Chips then? Alone and heading back to face an empty house every night
?
He turned and switched directions, heading to the big house instead, his boots picking up speed as a question nagged. He shoved open the back door and stomped into the kitchen.
Kierra hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table. His mother sat next to her, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a magazine. Both heads turned his way. Kierra smiled in acknowledgment then refocused on her laptop.
“Hey, Fargo. You look exhausted. Want a cup of coffee?” his mother asked, backing her chair away from the table.
His boots clunked through the quiet kitchen. He stilled her movement with a hand on her shoulder. “No, thanks, Mom. Don’t get up. I’m only staying a minute. Did Darby ever ask about using the ranch for drilling? Or mention signing a contract with Brewster Oil?”
“Only once, not long after she got here. And actually, I was the one to bring it up, but she accepted my answer gracefully.”
Only once? And he’d accused her of plotting? Of playing his family?
He cringed and waited for Kierra to look up. Stilled the impatient tap of his boot against the floor. His pulse whooshed through his head, muting the voices coming from the television in the family room. He counted off the ticks of the clock over the table. One. Two. Three.
Finally Kierra looked up, frowning. “Darby never mentioned anything like that to me. But she was here on vacation. I can’t imagine her…” Her words faded as she stared at him. Horror slackened her jaw while dark eyebrows jagged high on her forehead. “Fargo, you didn’t!”
He winced at the accusation in her tone. Guilty as charged.
“Oh, Fargo!” His mother echoed. Her shoulders slumped back against the chair, and her hand covered her mouth.
“Yeah. I blew it.” He scrubbed a palm over his cheek. He needed space to think, and his notebook and pencil. So his thoughts could spill out instead of clog his head like a dense fog. He plopped the hat back on and turned to leave.
“She’s not like Jennie.” The quiet force of Kierra’s well-aimed zinger stopped him in his tracks.
He sucked in a breath, paralyzed. Not willing to go back but not sure he had the strength to move forward.
“No. She’s not,” he said. The reassurance fluttered soul-deep. He knew that now. Darby was stronger and—
“She loves it here,” his mother said, her lips softening in understanding.
He nodded.
“What are you afraid of?” Kierra asked. Judging by the bull doggish look on her face, she wouldn’t relent until she’d taken a scalpel to his chest.
Afraid? Was he?
He huffed. Yeah. Maybe he was. Afraid that his love would strangle Darby and hold her back from being the strong, confident woman she was meant to be. Or that his love wouldn’t be enough to keep her here.
That he wouldn’t be enough.
So, yeah, he could admit it, if only to himself. But he also had regrets, enough that he didn’t need to stick around and allow Kierra to heap guilt on top.
Without answering, he spun around on his heel, a crazy bolt of hope striking a jagged chord in his wounded heart, but then just as quickly withered into dread. He’d made an awful mistake. Accused Darby of something she hadn’t done. Would she ever forgive him?
§
Darby rifled rapid-fire through the stack of messages her assistant had pressed into her hand.
Nothing. Not a text. Not a phone call. Not even an email from the only person she’d hoped to hear from during the last two weeks. What had she expected?
She sighed and slipped the laptop bag off her shoulder, and dropped it and her purse on the desk. She sank into the chair, the luxurious leather cooling the anxiety warming her skin, and wiggled her heels off under the desk. A dreadfully long week already, and it wasn’t over yet.
“Tough crowd?” An amused female voice came from the open doorway, startling her.
“Kate!” Darby squealed. She hoisted herself out of the chair and lunged around the desk to hug her friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Just stopped in to fill out all that exit paperwork.”
“Seriously? You couldn’t do that online?”
“I wanted to say goodbye to everybody.”
Darby wrinkled her nose. “Not to me, you’re not.”
“Of course not, silly. I specifically timed my visit to see you.”
Darby waved her in, then thought better of it. “Do you have time for coffee?” Really, besides a chance to catch up with her friend, she searched for any excuse to sit down for a few minutes. She’d been standing in these blasted heels all week.
“Coffee? Are you kidding? Motherhood is absolutely wonderful and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I need a break. I told Darren not to expect me home until the little one was bathed and in bed. A nice long chat over dinner at Beckett’s sounds much better than just a coffee break.”
“Dinner it is, then.” She cringed as she slid her heels back on for the three-block walk to their favorite local pub. She scooped her purse off the desk. Her laptop snagged her attention, but she refused to budge. She’d already logged in enough hours this week. Tonight, she’d spend much needed time with her friend.
They made the walk to Beckett’s and were seated with tall glasses of sweet tea on the table when Kate said, “So. Tell me about your trip.”
“California was…nice.”
“Not as nice as Texas, I’m guessing,” Kate said, a sly expression on her face, but she didn’t give Darby time to respond. “How come you didn’t tell me you were going to California?”
“I didn’t know until the day I got back from the ranch.”
Kate shook her head, disbelief stretching her dark brows high on her forehead. “Big Daddy didn’t warn you that you were to be a faculty advisor for the conference?”
“No. Thank heaven for Melissa. She forwarded all the details, including the conference schedule and my plane reservation. She just assumed that Dad had already talked to me about it.”
“Darby, honestly. Sometimes I don’t understand how you and your father are even related.”
“I’ve wondered that myself.” She sipped, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.
“So how was it?” Kate asked.
“Long.”
“Long? That’s all you got for me?” Kate teased.
“Long as in…I’m not sure my heart’s in it anymore.” Surrounded by suits and academia, she’d indulged in heavy conversations and power lunches. But the whole time she’d yearned for a quiet evening at the ranch. To reach down and ruffle the soft fur on Hope and Charity’s backs. To wake up to cattle lows and horses whinnies. To run her gaze up an incredibly tall pair of denims, linger over a muscular chest, and drown in those lion eyes. To hear Fargo’s deep rumble against her ear, the way he leaned in to her, his mouth grazing her neck. To savor the cowboy’s raw expressions. The slight hike of his chin. The flare of his eyes as they morphed from vulnerable to passionate.
The server appeared with their dinners, and she stole a glance at the time on her phone. Eight o’clock. What were they doing right now? Just finishing dinner? Playing a game? Was Fargo working on a new poem? Would his words be dark and gloomy with regret? Or relieved that he was rid of her?
Kate picked up her fork, shoveled in a bite of the chicken and moaned. “Mmm. This is so good. I’ve missed it.” She took a long sip of her iced tea before pinning Darby with a meaningful glance. “So what happened?”
Darby twirled her fork around the pasta on her plate, playing with it. She wasn’t really hungry. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, yes you do.” Kate snorted, her ivory smooth forehead bunching. “It’s me you’re talking to, Darby. I’m not letting you off that easily.”
Darby swallowed. Sighed. “It’s not enough anymore.”
“The job? Or this obsessive need of yours to please your father?”
Apparently, the gloves were off. “All of the above, I guess. I want more.”
“Like?”
“Like…” What
did she want? She hadn’t really put a name to it, hadn’t really pinned down all the reasons why she tossed and turned, an actual ache for something more keeping her awake every night. “What you have with Darren and Braxton. I want a life outside of work. I want—”
“Love.” Kate said the one word, more statement than question.
“Yeah. Love.”
“Is it the cowboy?”
“Fargo?” Just saying his name aloud kick started Darby’s heart. She finally gave up playing with the pasta. The fork clattered against the plate. “He hasn’t called or texted. But I didn’t expect him to.”
“Why not?”
“Because he thinks all I wanted was a contract to use their land.” Hot salty tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks, unbidden, unwelcome. “Accused me of cozying up to him and his family to get it. But, he didn’t give me a chance to tell him that all I really want is him. I love him and his family.”
“Oh, honey.” Kate’s hand landed on hers. “I’m sorry.”
She flicked the moisture away with a palm. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“What can I do? I can’t just quit my job and move to the ranch.”
Kate chewed and swallowed, a thoughtful look on her face. She took a swig of iced tea and swiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. Her face split with a grin. “Why not? The only thing standing between you and him right now is your job, right?”
~ CHAPTER 21 ~
Fargo swung the truck back into the long driveway. The tree limbs danced with the light from the full moon, casting a shadowy glow across the lane.
Home. Finally. Relief just about buckled his shoulders.
He hadn’t swung this far out on a limb in a long time. He’d showered, tugged on his newest pair of jeans and walked with Jayce over to his mom’s house. Then he’d made the long drive into Dallas and waited outside Darby’s empty condo for sixty minutes.
And look where it had gotten him. Nothing accomplished but time wasted on a Friday night. Time he usually spent with Jayce.