by Vivian Arend
Laurel stopped in often. She and Rafe ate dinner with his mom at least once a week, and he’d drop by the ranch house at other times between chores to discover his girlfriend’s car in the yard, cups of tea between her and his mom as they chatted. Or Laurel holding knitting needles awkwardly as Dana tried to teach her.
Rafe teased as he drove her home after supper one night. “I swear you’re going out with me because you like my mom.”
“And your point is?” she asked in a completely serious tone.
He laughed. “Brat.”
She curled up a little tighter to his side. “Your mom’s happy. You’ve done good things for her, and you should be proud.”
“There’s a long ways to go to get the ranch the way we want it, but yes, the house is looking much better, and I’m glad Mom is comfortable. Still think it’s a big place for her to take care of on her own.” Which gave him ideas and made him want to have a certain discussion with Laurel, but the timing sucked to rush into things. “This spring we’re going to be extra busy,” he warned, wishing it wasn’t true.
“Maybe you’ll be busy enough to stay out of mischief, then.”
“Look who’s talking about mischief? I’m not the one who stole the cookies out of the staff room.”
She gasped in mock horror. “Seriously? You’re willing to go that far back to find the one bad thing I did on my own?”
“You still did it.”
“Never got caught,” Laurel pointed out. “Therefore, it never happened.”
He laughed, walking her to the door and dropping her off with a kiss. Long, slow and tender, pulsing heat there between them, under the surface. The temptation to stay with her for the night, every night, was strong, but she’d made it clear she didn’t want them to push too fast.
Only the rental was getting lonely to ramble around in on his own, and crawling into bed without her in his arms was nearly unbearable.
By the time the winter weather broke, it was the tail end of March, the month going out like a lamb for the first time in years. It made him think ahead to springtime flowers and green growing grass.
New starts. New beginnings.
It was time to make the next move.
Rafe marched into the barn, eager to track down Gabe. Instead he bumped into another Coleman meeting, this time just breaking up.
His Uncle Mike was the last to leave, stopping to offer Rafe a solid man-hug-slash-pat-on-the-back. “I was telling Gabe I think you two have done a fine job taking care of your mom over the past while. I’m glad she’s got you.”
Mike looked older than Rafe remembered, his smile slower to come. “Thanks. You doing okay?”
His uncle shrugged. “Feeling my age, I guess.” He glanced at Gabe. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Yes, sir. Try not to worry,” Gabe added. “I’m sure he’s doing all right.”
Uncle Mike tipped his hat then left without a word as Rafe watched him go, heaviness in his soul. “Jesse?”
Gabe sighed. “Yeah, partly. Still can’t believe he up and left like that.”
“You did,” Rafe said bluntly. “Oh, sorry. You waited until after the funeral to leave. That made it so much better.”
His brother gave him a dirty look.
“And if you spout some bullshit about how it’s not the same thing, I’ll prove that you’re my big brother in age only these days,” Rafe warned.
“You’re right, I was an idiot, like Jesse is being now.” Gabe slapped him on the shoulder. “Did you need something? Or did you stop in to be annoying?”
Rafe pushed aside the other issue for a minute. “When are you going to tell me what’s happening with all the sneaking around? You starting a secret Coleman society? Because I’m getting paranoid that I wasn’t asked to join.”
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you this long, but then life got pretty chaotic.”
Rafe shrugged. “It’s never going to be calm around here, so spill.”
“We’re working on getting the ranches together more. It was a fine idea they had to split things up back in the day, but the families didn’t really turn out even, did we? If we split the Angel ranch between us, and the Six Pack clan divvies theirs up—you can see it’s not going to work. But there should be room for all our family as far as I’m concerned.”
Not what Rafe had expected. “What brought this on?”
Gabe leaned back on the wall and folded his arms. “We started talking a year or so ago when Uncle Randy got sick and Steve didn’t know if they could keep things going at the Moonshine ranch. We’d been struggling over here, hoping the choice to go organic would work. And Karen—well, that woman can ranch circles around us, and Uncle George will never see it. It seemed like we needed to find a way to put on paper what we know already—it’s Coleman land. It doesn’t matter if it was given to Randy or Mike or Ben, it belongs to all of us, or it should.”
“You think that will make a difference down the road?”
“You tell me. What if Uncle George thinks it’s Blake calling the shots on Whiskey Creek land? Making decisions about breeding animals and crop rotations? Would he let him?”
Sadly, the answer was too clear. “In a second.”
“So if Karen actually makes the decisions for Whiskey Creek, but it’s down in the books as Coleman planning, the best decisions can be made without a fight. Although—we’re thinking more of everyone using what they’re best at. So Karen works with the breeding animals, and Joel helps us use those crazy computer programs of his for crop rotations, and we share what we know about going organic.”
It was actually rather brilliant. “I could see this working. It’s a good thing this isn’t like Downton Abbey with those third cousins inheriting,” Rafe said.
Gabe laughed. “God, Allison and Laurel are crazy about that show, and every time they put it on that’s the first thing I think of. Inheritances are crazy, bro.”
“They’re not watching it for that part,” Rafe pointed out. “Be glad neither of them have asked us to start dressing in suits.”
His brother shuddered.
Rafe got back to the point. “So this land business. Everyone in the family needs to approve?”
“Legally it has to start with the stakeholders—which means all three uncles—Mike, George and Randy. They needed to know we wanted this, without any of them knowing the parts about them—I mean, Uncle George thinks we’re doing this because the families didn’t breed evenly.”
Rafe snickered. “Yeah, he’d think in those terms.”
Gabe grinned in return. “We’re getting closer, but there’s a lot to figure out, including if Uncle Mark wants to be a part of the final agreement.”
Their mysterious uncle who’d never returned after dropping off Becky at his house and basically giving it to her. “The whole thing sounds pretty twisted, even for the Coleman clan.”
“You cannot believe the paperwork,” Gabe complained. “Anyway, when Ben died, one problem vanished—I can decide for Angel without it causing a rift like it could have. I won’t do it if you tell me not to, but I sure hope you can see farther than our own pocketbooks.”
“You don’t want Micah and your future kids to inherit?”
Gabe’s face twisted slightly, and Rafe felt like a shit for reminding his brother of sad memories. “He will, or they will, but if we do this right, all the family who want to work the land will be able to, for generations to come. Even the kids like Lance and Nathan who don’t have rights anymore because Daniel did a buy out.”
“And those that don’t want to ranch, like Daniel?”
“They won’t be tied up in the finances the same way.”
It was brilliant, and twisted, and if he’d known about this before shouting at his father—
Rafe’s gut rolled, but he took a deep breath and thought of Laurel. Thought of her promise that things would work out in the end, but it would take time.
Reminded himself all over that she believed in him.
He
was still thinking about it that night as they sat together on the porch of the rental, both of them wrapped up against the cold, but it was too pretty an evening to spend indoors. Laurel swung her feet back and forth as she leafed through a seed catalog, her fuzzy topped boots looking as if she had strange animals hugging her shins.
She was popping sticky notes on the pages, so focused and intent on her task she didn’t notice he was staring at her, the warm sensation in his heart washing over him familiar and—
Shocking as he recognized it for what it was.
How had he not seen it earlier? Or more to the point, why had it not registered in him? They’d been friends forever…and maybe that was part of the problem. This thing he felt inside wasn’t brand new. It was the same sweet sensation he’d always felt when he thought about her. Only now he had a name for it.
Stubborn, stupid-ass cowboy that he was to not notice he’d fallen in love.
Thinking of stubborn, stupid-ass cowboys…
He hauled out his phone and texted his cousin like he did at least once a week, the opening message the same as always.
Rafe: Come home, you jerk
Jesse: Back off, cuz, or I will hurt you
Rafe: You need your head examined. Your dad is a mess, dude. Call him, FFS.
Jesse: Fuck, I’m sorry. Tell everyone I’m fine. I emailed you my contact info in case of an emergency, but I’d appreciate if you keep where I’m at quiet. This is best for everyone.
Rafe: When you get your head out of your ass, we’ll be waiting
Jesse: jerk
Rafe: butthead
He caught himself smiling at the stupid banter even as he wished Jesse had made a different choice.
It was strange. Years ago he’d always wondered how everyone in the family seemed to gravitate toward Gabe, asking for advice and sharing their troubles.
He’d never dreamed that he’d end up in the same type of situation. Rafe considered all the secrets he’d learned over the past while. It was a privilege to know people trusted him.
It was a privileged burden to bear—
He glanced over at Laurel. This time she looked up and caught him watching her, and her slow smile made his insides melt. Burdens were easier to carry when there was someone he loved at his side.
Now to make sure that she stayed there.
He pulled out his phone and made a few plans…
Sweet, springtime air flowed through the open windows at the library, and Laurel took a deep, appreciative breath. The change in seasons made her glad, and not only because they were finally able to put away the thick winter coats.
Time was passing, and time brought healing. She knew Rafe worried off and on. She figured he would for a long time, but he was happier now. He’d joined her family for dinner a few times, and even gone ice fishing with her dad before the melt set in.
She’d teased him about trying too hard to impress her father. “You don’t have to haul him into the wilderness. Just go out for a coffee or something if you want to talk.”
Rafe had laughed. “You’re right about that. Know what he said when I kept trying to make conversation out on the ice?”
She waited.
“He was polite and all for a bit then finally told me to shut up and fish.”
Laughter came quickly again, returning from wherever it had vanished to for that brief time—or maybe it had never really left. It was a part of them, and always had been. It had just gotten a little dusty for a while, in both their souls.
Laurel was determined to keep joy close to the surface from here on. Close to her heart.
She was already in her car before she noticed the note tucked under the windshield wiper. She popped out and grabbed it, letting her grin break loose at the oh-so-familiar message.
Do you want to build a racetrack?
They were going back in time, and while she wondered what Rafe was up to, she drove slowly to let the happiness soak in hard.
He was where she’d found him nearly ten months earlier, arms stretched on the picnic table, his legs out in front of him. She admired the view as she strolled up, stealing his cowboy hat and plopping it on her head. “Hey, stranger.”
Rafe rose and kissed her. He curled one hand possessively around her to hold them tightly together. Sweet, passionate heat rising.
Her heart was pumping hard when he finally let her go.
“Good day?”
“Great day,” she said. “Want to hear a secret?”
“I’d love to.”
“Someone is transferring to a different church.”
He blinked then grinned. “Okay, for a second I thought you were talking about your parents, and I couldn’t figure out why you were smiling. But this? Great news.”
“Don’t say anything to anyone. I might have been eavesdropping.” Her cheeks instantly heated up. “Fine, I was eavesdropping,” she hurried as he waved a finger in her face. “But it’s still good news.”
Rafe tugged her with him into the playground. “I wish him well, wherever Jeff lands.”
She snorted—couldn’t help it. “So now that he’s leaving he’s Jeff again instead of you calling him Pastor Ass?”
“I’m forgiving that way,” he deadpanned. “Although you have to admit it had kind of a ring to it.”
He dropped to the ground beside the sandbox and Laurel gasped as he pulled her into his lap. “Rafe.”
“Can’t build a racetrack from way up there,” he admonished her. “Oh, look, there’s already one here.”
The sand was pushed into piles and dips, a far fancier setup than they’d managed years earlier. She curled an arm around his neck and leaned forward to admire his work. “You’ve improved your technique. I like the corners—much smoother than I remember.”
He stole a kiss. “I’ve gotten more experience dealing with curves,” he whispered, his hands brushing over her body.
Hmmm. “Naughty sandbox time. You’re going to get us in trouble, Coleman.”
“I certainly hope so.” He nipped at her lips. “Want to race?”
She ignored the playground and focused on him, straddling his legs and easing her body against him as she offered up a word of thanks there were no kids around. “I don’t have any cars with me.”
“You can share one of mine.”
The soft texture of his hair teased her fingers as she stroked him, soaking in his kiss. He tugged at her elbow, and she slid her hand down until their fingers met, confused when he pressed something cold and hard against her palm.
Laurel pulled back, concentrating as hard as she could with her senses still reeling. “What’s this?”
“Can’t race without a truck,” Rafe said, a lilt in his voice, and something else.
She glanced into his eyes, seeing—nervousness?
“Baby? What’s up?”
“It’s my favourite truck, and I want you to have it.”
He lifted her hand between them, and she finally looked down.
It was an old battered Hot Wheels truck. Black, vaguely familiar. It could have been the same one she’d given him all those years ago. Only in the tiny truck bed, something sparkled, and Laurel caught her breath.
A bit of twine held the ring in place, but it was clear this wasn’t a childish trinket.
She held the truck tight and lifted her eyes to his.
“I love you,” he admitted. “I think I always have, but now I love you so much I can barely breathe without you.”
“I love you too.”
His eyes shone with hope. “Then say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll stick beside me for the rest of our lives. You can kick my ass when I step over the line, and kiss me when I’m good, and all the while remind me to get in the right kind of trouble.”
She laughed through happy tears. “What’s the right kind of trouble?”
Rafe got the ring free and held up her hand so he could slip it on her finger. “Any trouble I get into with you—that’s the perfect kind.”
; Laurel paused for a second. “I’ll marry you, but I have one condition.”
He grinned even as he pressed kisses to her fingers. “What?”
She put on the most serious expression she could manage. “You’ve got to figure out a better pet name for me than Sitko. Deal?”
“For you, anything.”
Then she wasn’t worried about pet names or the fact the school bell had just rung, and there was about to be a mess of children running into the schoolyard wondering why the pastor’s daughter was kissing her cowboy in the middle of the playground.
Although if anyone did ask, she’d say they were celebrating building a racetrack.
Epilogue
Epilogue
Early summer
“I thought you’d like this.”
Laurel smiled as she let Rafe lead her along the river’s path—the same one they’d walked so many years before on the night of Grad. Giddy with excitement, buzzing with lust…
Okay, so things hadn’t changed that much in the years between. She still quivered at the thought of being with him. The fact she now got to touch him any time she wanted—that she got to be with him for the rest of their lives—made it so much better. There was something more in everything they did these days.
A connection beyond friendship. Far far beyond, but she was so grateful it had started there.
“You sure I’m dressed for this?” she asked, holding her pretty dress shoes in one, the fingers of the other hand linked with his strong grip.
“Yup. Although you might…” His words faded away.
She laughed. “I heard that. So I’m not going to be wearing anything for long?”
“Not if I have my way.”
The look in his eyes was familiar, and so was the picnic blanket he’d laid on the ground near the tree where she’d sat so long ago.
“Why, Coleman. You got something dirty on your mind?”
“Not dirty at all,” he protested. He tugged her into his arms and held her close as he smiled down on her. “Making love to my bride is the nearest thing to heaven there is on earth.”
“Smooth talker,” she teased.
“Come here.” He brought her to the blanket, lying beside her. The sun filtered through the trees, dappling the ground in a moving kaleidoscope of gold and tan.