by Liz Isaacson
“Good morning,” Walker said.
Blake grunted. He’d found very little to be good about the past twenty-seven mornings since he’d called Erin and ended things between them. He hated the way his phone sat silent most of the time now. Hated the way he hadn’t finished the job at the bakery the way he’d said he would. He’d told Doug that he’d be back to finish everything up once the harvest was over, but guilt still needled him whenever he thought about Erin—which was all the time.
He knew, though, that those thoughts would eventually be replaced with new ones. After all, he’d felt like this after Jessica had dated everyone but him, gone to college, had gotten engaged and then married. The thoughts always faded; the pain always hurt for a while and then got better; the memories always played in full color in his dreams and then dulled. He just needed more time.
Time.
Erin had wanted time.
Blake shook his head, realizing that Walker was watching him. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Wondered how Erin’s kids were liking school now that it’s started.”
“I don’t know.” Blake looked right at Walker, sure the foreman already knew they’d broken up. Ted hadn’t exactly been quiet about Blake not sitting on the back row during church while they loaded hay into the loft last week. And Tess had brought Blake a chocolate cake on Saturday night for no reason at all.
“What are you guys doing here so early?” Blake asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“I’m takin’ the boys down to school this morning, so I thought I’d get some things done before that.”
Blake nodded and walked over to the combine harvester that had made this fall one of the worst. He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out the owner’s manual. A few inches thick, the manual seemed daunting to Blake when it normally wouldn’t.
Everything had seemed harder since Erin’s departure from his life.
It was your choice, he told himself in the sternest thought possible. You chose to end things with her.
He leafed through the book, looking for the section on augers so he could find the part numbers he needed. Twenty minutes later, with the snapshot of it on his phone, he climbed down from the harvester to find the machinery shed empty. Relief flooded him. He didn’t want a lecture from Walker. Walker, who had more strength than anyone else on the ranch. Who had raised a son by himself for several years before remarrying. Who always gave advice Blake heeded.
He exited the shed only to find Walker leaning against it. “There you are.”
“Jeez.” Blake jumped away in surprise, his heart kicking into a new gear from the adrenaline. “You scared me.” He kept walking toward his cabin, but he knew he couldn’t out-stride Walker.
“I wanted to talk to you about Erin.”
“Not interested.”
“In her? Or in talking to me about her?”
Blake stopped on the cusp of the dirt road that led back to the lane and separated the homestead on the south from the fields on the north. “Both.” He daggered Walker with a look that said Drop it, and started walking again.
“Okay, don’t talk back then.” Walker matched him step for step. “Just listen.”
“I don’t want to be talked at either.”
“Well, someone has to tell you what you’re missin’.”
“What’s that?”
“You like Erin Shields, right?”
“I think it would be impossible not to like Erin Shields.”
“Yeah, but I like her in a different way than you do.”
“If you say so.” Blake’s cabin came into view, with Rosco waiting for him on the front porch.
“Can’t you see how miserable you are?” Walker darted in front of him, blocking Blake’s escape. “I can, and it’s makin’ everyone around here miserable.”
“Name one person.”
“Emmett. Ted. Me. Justin. Grant. Even Landon said you snapped at him a few days ago.”
“I did not.” At least Blake couldn’t think of when he’d have done that. Landon was his boss; Landon signed his paycheck. Blake had never had a problem with the man. Liked working for him. Found him to be a fair boss.
“He said you told him you needed more help for the harvest.” Ted’s right eyebrow cocked. “In no uncertain terms.”
“We do need more cowhands for the harvest. There are men who’ll come just for two weeks—or less, because with more help, the harvest wouldn’t take so long.”
“Yeah, but you can’t boss around the boss.”
“I didn’t. I was making a suggestion.”
“Didn’t sound like it.”
Blake spun toward the new voice, finding Landon standing there, his jeans, cowboy boots, and brown leather jacket standard ranch wear in the autumn. Between him and Walker, the only difference was the color of their cowboy hats. Blake sighed. “I’m sorry, Landon. I’ve been….”
“Moody,” Landon supplied at the same time Walker said, “Grouchy.”
“Am I not getting my work done?” Blake challenged.
“No, you’re doin’ just fine,” Landon said, gazing past him toward the fields. “Only a couple more days, from what Walker said.”
“Mowing the last fields today,” Blake confirmed. “It’s just slow.”
“Not everything has to be done quickly,” Landon said. “Maybe you just need to give yourself more time to figure things out with Erin.”
“It’s not Erin,” Blake said, wondering how they’d gone from mowing hay to women in less than a breath.
“No?” Walker asked, exchanging a glance with Landon that Blake didn’t like.
He shook his head, the fight in his body leaving. He’d told Erin it was him, that he wasn’t over Jessica. But that wasn’t true. It was him, but it had nothing to do with Erin or Jessica.
“It’s her kids,” he said, everything in him admitting defeat. He’d wanted to tell someone, but he didn’t want to come off as a selfish jerk.
“Her kids?” Walker asked, his eyes harboring a dark edge. “What about them?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to take on a family of five,” he said. “Three of which are under the age of eight.”
“Better than three under the age of four,” Landon grumbled.
Walker chuckled and Blake managed a smile. “Her oldest son doesn’t like me much.”
“You haven’t spent much time with him,” Walker said. “You’ve got to give it more than a month.”
“And not even a month,” Landon said. “A month of weekends.”
Blake’s lungs stormed, barely able to hold oxygen. He breathed, trying to make them function properly. They finally complied, right before he felt like passing out. “He said I’ll never be his father.”
“And you won’t,” Walker agreed. “It’s hard to build a new family from parts of an old one, but it can be done. Tess and I manage okay.”
“It’s different for you,” Blake said. “You had a kid, and so did Tess, and they’re both boys, and they get along great, and—”
“They don’t always get along great,” Walker said. “Trust me.”
“Nothing about having a family is easy,” Landon agreed.
“You’re not making a very strong case here, guys,” Blake said. “And I’ve got a phone call to make.”
He stepped past Walker, almost making it to the front door before his friend called out, “Give yourself more time, Blake!”
He raised his hand to indicate he’d heard, but he entered the cabin without looking back. As he made the phone call and ordered the part, as he grabbed his leather gloves and headed back across the street to get the operational harvester going, he couldn’t help thinking More time for what?
His phone showed one missed call when Blake made it in from the fields. Everything had gotten mowed, just as he’d said it would. Now the hay would dry for a couple of days, and he’d get out there and bale it. Then he’d go over the fields one more time to pick up the bales, and with a
few hours work, the hayloft would be full. The harvest would be over. Finally.
He dialed Doug back, his stomach growling for something more than a protein bar to eat. Problem was, he didn’t have much more available at home.
“Hey, Blake.”
“You called?”
“That refrigerator finally came in.” He let the sentence hang there, the unspoken part of it loud and clear.
“Great,” Blake said, his gut rebelling against the idea of stepping foot inside the bakery. “I’ll be down tomorrow to finish everything up.” He entered the cabin and gave Rosco a scrub behind his ears. “How’s everything else holding up at the bakery?”
“Just great,” Doug said.
“Great.” Blake sighed with relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He wished tomorrow wouldn’t come, but it did. It always did. He cleared it with Walker to go down to the bakery that morning, a wild idea that had struck Blake as he lay in bed the previous night. Maybe if he went in the morning, he wouldn’t see Erin.
He pulled into the parking lot, which seemed unusually busy for a Tuesday, and entered through the side door that allowed access to her apartment and the kitchen. His heart seized, thinking of the last time he’d used this door. He glanced left, up the stairs, his pulse beating against the back of his tongue.
“How long on the key lime tarts?” Erin’s voice floated to him from the kitchen, and Blake froze. He’d almost forgotten the sound of her voice, the smell of her skin, but it all rushed back at him now.
Move, he told himself as Shirley said something. He went upstairs, making his bootsteps as quiet as possible. Her apartment was surprisingly clean, and McKenzie sat on the couch, watching a cartoon. She glanced up at Blake and a smile burst onto her face.
“Blake,” she said in her simple voice.
“Hello, sweet girl.” He gave her a smile and tousled her hair as he moved past her and into the kitchen. His heart squeezed with the affection he felt for McKenzie. His life narrowed to just this apartment and the good times he’d had here. He set down his tool kit and headed back to the door.
“I’ve gotta grab my painting stuff,” he said to McKenzie. “Okay?”
“’Kay,” she said, her focus back on the TV.
Blake made another trip down the stairs and back up without hearing or seeing Erin. He allowed himself to breathe normally once he was in the apartment with McKenzie again, the door closed.
He assessed the work he’d done and what was left to finish. He’d hung the new sheetrock, but it hadn’t been sealed and patched to the old walls. He also needed to texture and then paint before installing the new refrigerator, which almost blocked the hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom.
He’d barely finished patching the wall into a seamless surface when the door opened behind him.
“Hey, Kenz, you doing okay?”
Blake turned toward the magical sound of Erin’s voice, and their eyes met. Hers widened and she lifted one hand to press it over her heart. “Blake.”
“Hello, Erin,” he forced out of his mouth. Every nerve ending in his body fired hot and fast. “Just finishing this up for you—for Doug—today. You’ll have your kitchen back in order by lunchtime.”
Her gaze flew to the computer desk, which held stacks of mail and a couple of notebooks, maybe some homework now that the kids were back in school. “I—I just came to check on Kenz.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Blake said, turning back to the project at hand. He simply stared at the wall, wondering how he could eliminate this awkwardness between him and Erin. He lived here; so did she. Would it be like this every time he saw her? At church, the bakery, the park, everywhere?
“Thanks,” Erin said.
Blake turned, hopeful that Erin hadn’t left yet. She hadn’t even moved. She blinked; so did he.
“Listen, Erin.” He swallowed. “I’m—”
“If you’re going to apologize again, please don’t.” Even from across the apartment, Blake saw the anger in her eyes.
“Okay,” he said stupidly. He didn’t know what to say now, but he did want to make her life easier not harder. Maybe he did need more time with her, with Cole, before he could decide if this relationship was going to work or not.
“Are you headed back up to the ranch after you finish here?” she asked, her voice back to normal.
“Yeah. I have to settle up with Doug, and then yeah. I have work to do on the ranch.”
“Do you have time for dinner this week?”
Shock traveled through Blake. “I—I suppose.”
“Which night?” she pressed.
His mind had blanked the moment he’d seen her. He still held the scraper he’d been using, and it hung at his side uselessly. “I don’t know.”
“Tonight?”
He couldn’t think of a reason why not. He couldn’t think of anything. “I guess.”
A smile touched her lips, and Blake’s attention fell there. All the emotions he’d felt for Erin broke through the layer of plastic wrap he’d been using to keep them at bay.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll bring some pizza. We can talk.” She nodded once as if to say that was that and left the apartment.
Chapter Fourteen
When Erin arrived at Blake’s cabin, she thought her heart would fly right out of her chest. Another man opened the front door and led Rosco outside on a leash. She didn’t recognize the other cowboy, but he went next door to the cabin on the end, taking the dog with him.
Erin grabbed the pot of spaghetti she’d made, along with a grocery sack containing a bagged salad and some garlic breadsticks from the bakery. She marched right up to the cabin door and knocked.
Blake opened it, his bright blue eyes assessing her from head to toe. “Hey. That doesn’t look like pizza.” The half smirk on his face touched her heart. How she’d missed that look that he seemed to reserve only for her.
“I had to feed the kids, so I made spaghetti.”
He glanced behind her. “You didn’t bring them?”
“Aunt Shirley is watching them.” She nodded toward the interior of the house. “Can I come in?”
He stepped back and reached for the grocery sack. “You didn’t have to feed me.”
“I didn’t think you’d come down the canyon for a second time in one day.” She entered his cabin and took a deep breath. She’d always loved the smell of him—musky and woody and warm, with a hint of mint.
He closed the door behind her, his tall frame making her feel small and claustrophobic in the cabin. She moved away from him and set the spaghetti on the kitchen counter. “Let’s eat first.”
“What are we going to do second?” He set the rest of the groceries on the counter.
She pulled the salad and breadsticks out of the bag before pinning him with a look. “We’re going to talk.”
He swallowed visibly, and while she felt the same fear tugging through her, she didn’t think she could survive without him for much longer. She had the facts she needed. She just needed to lay them out and see what he said.
He got down two plates and she filled them with food. He asked her about the kids, and school, and the bakery. She filled the silence with pleasantries and updates, dancing around the harder topics until he was well-fed.
Finally, he sat back from his plate. “You do make a great batch of spaghetti and meatballs.” His warm smile gave her hope. He may have broken up with her, but the flame between them burned as hot as ever.
She got up from the table and retrieved her purse from where she’d dropped it next to the front door. She withdrew the folder she needed and sat on the couch, giving him a pointed look.
He joined her but sat on the opposite end from her when she wanted him right next to her. “I looked up Jessica Charles,” she said.
He sucked in a breath with a sharp hiss. “You did what?”
“She’s married, Blake. She lives in California, and she’s due with her first baby—a son—in
only nine weeks.”
A range of emotions crossed his face, from anger to fear to defiance to acceptance, all in a single heartbeat.
Erin lifted her chin and looked straight into those blue eyes she loved. “She says you two haven’t spoken in years. I think you lied to me.” She cocked her head to the side and asked, “Have you lied to me, Blake?”
To his credit, he didn’t even try to deny it. He nodded and said, “Yeah.”
Her pulse pinched. “Why?”
“I didn’t lie when I said I wasn’t ready. Just the reason why.”
“I know you love me,” she said next. She didn’t know but the way he sighed and softened testified that he did.
“I’m sorry, Erin. I tried not to fall so fast. You said you needed time, and then things went bad between me and Cole….” He shrugged and studied his hands.
“Things didn’t go bad at all,” she said, opening the folder. “I asked him to write you a note.” She passed over the single sheet of paper, which Blake took with an edge of curiosity on his face.
He didn’t look at it. “He told me I’d never be his father. He’s right.”
“I don’t need you to be his father,” Erin said, suddenly regretting her idea to eat before talking as her stomach revolted against the spaghetti she’d consumed. “I need you to be my husband.”
Blake blinked once, twice. “I’m sorry. What?”
Erin slid down the couch until her knee almost touched Blake’s. “This folder has my chats with Jessica, confirming you went out with her once, almost ten years ago. I believe you liked her, but I don’t believe for a single second she’s the reason we can’t be together.”
“She’s not,” Blake whispered. “I’m over her. I got over her the moment I met you.”
Erin’s heart bumped irregularly in her chest. “I have some pictures Davy and McKenzie drew for you. Davy asks about you everyday, and I’m tired of making up excuses for why you stopped coming around.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Blake said. “I’m sorry he feels bad.” He ducked his head, and Erin reached up and removed his cowboy hat, everything almost laid out. Good thing, too, because she was dying to kiss him.