by Liz Isaacson
She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. He’d asked her to come talk to him; he could start the discussion.
“Listen,” he said, but he didn’t follow it up with anything.
Simone lifted her eyes to his face and found him gazing across the porch to the oak tree. He wore one of Wyatt’s hats, as had many at the wedding. There were plenty of other cowboys to choose from. Simone didn’t know why she was so hung up on this one.
She remembered the time she and Micah had worked on painting her cabin, back behind the homestead at the Shining Star. They’d flirted shamelessly, and Simone had enjoyed herself so much. She hadn’t had that much fun since then, and she’d started a relationship with one of the cowboys on their ranch after Micah had left.
He hadn’t moved to Three Rivers permanently until last July, and by then, Simone had herself a boyfriend. That didn’t prevent them from texting and sharing funny videos and memes with one another. It hadn’t stopped him from coming to her workshop and showing her the piece he’d found on the side of the road. It hadn’t stopped the flirting or the way they circled each other.
“Will you go to dinner with me?” he asked, his voice soft and full of the tenderness Simone ached for.
Surprise flowed over her. “Dinner?”
“I know you broke up with Jarrod.”
Simone started nodding, but she didn’t know what to say.
“I like you, Simone,” Micah said, and blast him, he knew exactly what to say.
“When’s the last time you talked to Stephanie?”
A hiss leaked out of his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” She looked at him, but he only held her gaze for a moment before focusing on that stupid oak tree again.
Fine, it wasn’t stupid. Simone rather liked the oak at Seven Sons. She’d been jealous of the way the brothers dressed it up at Christmastime, because it made the whole lane look like a scene straight from a Hallmark movie.
Micah’s jaw jumped, and Simone’s heart fell to her shoes. “Does she still think she can win you back?”
“No,” he clipped out. “She knows that’s not going to happen.”
“So when’s the last time you talked to her?”
“She sends me stuff,” Micah said, his dark eyes flying back to Simone’s. They glittered with danger, but Simone knew he was all bark and no bite. All the Walkers were, though she had been quite careful around Jeremiah for a couple of years. That man had a loud bark—that Whitney had completely silenced.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said.
“And you send me stuff,” Simone said. “I know exactly what it’s like.”
“What do you think I’m doing when I send you stuff?” He stopped rocking in his chair, and Simone stilled hers too so the country silence wouldn’t be broken.
“Trying to win me back,” she said simply.
A quick smile crossed his face, making him devastatingly handsome instead of just drop-dead gorgeous. “Is it working?”
The grumble of a truck engine filled the air, and Wyatt and Marcy pulled into the driveway. Simone stood up, well-aware that she hadn’t said she’d go to dinner with Micah. “Maybe you better send me another cat video,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away from him.
When she reached the door, her phone chimed.
Her heart leapt, and she spun back to Micah, who wore a hopeful grin on his face. “Maybe you should check that,” he said, getting to his feet too.
Simone pulled her phone from her dress pocket and saw the message was from him. She shook her head, a smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth and she hadn’t even opened the text yet.
It was a cat video—one of her favorites. A gray cat stared at something intently, his fangs out. The caption said smile for the camera, and about six seconds in, his eye twitched. Simone’s funny bone got triggered, and she couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from her mouth.
“Please?” Micah whispered, his hand landing lightly on her elbow. “Just dinner. Two hours.”
Simone looked up, and he stood so close, the heat from his body mingled with hers. Her mind blanked, because if she just tipped up a little, she could kiss him. And oh, she wanted to kiss him.
The front door opened before she could move or speak, and she got jostled to the side as the whole crew spilled out onto the front porch to welcome the happy newlyweds. Wyatt led Marcy up the steps, his hand securely in his.
Simone had heard the rumor that Marcy had needed a groom, and fast, or she wouldn’t be able to keep her crop-dusting business. But anyone looking at Marcy and Wyatt wouldn’t think their marriage was a sham. They glowed like two people in love with one another, and an ache that Simone dulled with ice cream and her never-ending quest for the next amazing antique roared at her.
She wanted happiness like that. She wanted a loving husband who adored her. She wanted the big wedding, with the whole town, the tiny bundt cakes, the cowboy billionaire groom.
She only needed to look to her immediate right to find Micah, who wasn’t focused on his brother and Wyatt’s new wife.
Their eyes met. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Marcy sat at the computer in her office, piecing together the new video snippet she’d taken that morning with the others she’d been working on since last fall.
She wanted a year-long birds-eye view of Three Rivers for the new Payne’s Pest-free website, and with this morning’s flight, the video footage was finally all done.
She’d captured every season at Seven Sons Ranch, and she’d need to get Jeremiah to sign off on using his ranch in the footage. He’d won Ranch of the Year for this year, and Marcy really wanted to capitalize on that.
She could just heard the slogan now: Want Ranch of the Year? Hire Payne’s Pest-free to help get you there.
She’d been taking a video editing class for the past several months, and she hadn’t breathed a word of her project to anyone, not even Wyatt.
Her husband.
In the quiet moments of her life—now that she had quiet moments again—she couldn’t believe she was married.
Four months had passed since she’d said I-do, and Marcy could admit she was blissfully happy. The kind of happy she thought only women in cheesy romance movies got to experience. In fact, that was why she’d stopped watching them during the year of her father’s sickness.
She couldn’t find anyone like her, and she’d needed to see someone in a tough situation come out the victor.
But there were no heroines with fathers dying from cancer. No women dealing with running their own business, working on airplanes, or trying to juggle five thousand balls, one of which was actually the heart of a very handsome cowboy.
The women in the movies didn’t have any true decisions to make. They could go back to the city and live their life as a fancy doctor and be happy. Or stay in the small town and marry the guy and be happy.
Either way, they ended up happy.
And Marcy, at the time, had not been able to see a path toward happiness for herself.
The rumbling of the garage opening gently vibrated the house, and she thought again of Wyatt’s idea to find and buy a house of their own. She hadn’t been able to move into her father’s place, and they’d just gone over there at night for another month to finish clearing it out. She owned it, and she didn’t need to sell it, so she hadn’t put it on the market yet.
Wyatt had moved in with her, and Marcy sure did like having his big, broad shoulders in her bed, his cowboy boots by her back door, and his aftershave in her bathroom.
And suddenly, she knew why he wanted them to buy a house together. She was still thinking of everything in this house as hers.
“Hey, sugar,” he called.
“In the office,” Marcy said over her shoulder. The video wasn’t quite ready yet, and she’d be surprised if he came into the office without asking her if he could. She’d banished h
im from the room altogether, claiming she was working on something she wanted to have perfect before she showed it to anyone.
“Hey,” he said again, his voice much closer now. “Can I come in?”
She turned around in her desk chair, and smiled at him. “I think I’m ready to show you, so yes. Come in.”
“Ooh,” he said. “Intriguing.” He grabbed a folding chair and swung it around so it faced the computer. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“I need to adjust the music,” she said. “I just shot this this morning, and the colors might need some fixing too.” She clicked once, twice, and the video popped up.
“It’s a video?”
“A promotional video,” she said. “I’ve been taking a class on video editing.”
“You have?” Wyatt’s eyebrows practically disappeared under his cowboy hat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just something for me, I guess.” She clicked to start the video, and she knew the first seventy-five percent of the video was flawless.
“Hey, that’s Seven Sons,” he said.
Marcy just smiled, admiring the work she’d put into this video.
“Oh, I see what’s happening here,” he said. “You’re going through all the seasons.”
“In less than a minute,” she said, as winter faded into spring. Finally, the summer shots she’d been taking for the past few mornings filled the screen, and yes, the music was too loud. It needed to taper at the end. And she needed to make the sky bluer, as sometimes she lost color while up in the blueness of the atmosphere.
“I need to put the title on the end here,” she said.
“I loved the beginning,” he said. “Want an award-winning ranch? Genius.” His hand found hers and squeezed.
“Do you think Jeremiah will sign off on letting me use the footage of the ranch?” She’d gotten shots of several other ranches too, but Seven Sons was special to her. And it was the only award-winning ranch she currently dusted.
“If he won’t, I will,” Wyatt said. “Remember how I signed the original contract with Payne’s?”
“We should still talk to him about it.”
“I’ll call him right now.” Wyatt pulled out his phone, but Marcy put her hand on his. He looked into her eyes, and she shook her head.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said, her nerves firing. “You really think it’s okay?”
“Sweetheart,” he said. “It’s perfect. What are you going to do with it?”
“Advertising,” she said. “On my website, maybe some through Facebook. That kind of thing.”
“I thought your schedule was full.”
“Barely,” she said. “And if I get more customers, I can hire another pilot. Daddy and I used to both fly before he got sick.” Her throat narrowed, but only for a moment. She painted a smile on her face and said, “Should I heat up some of that meatloaf from the other night?”
“I brought home sandwiches,” he said, standing up.
She joined him, but he turned back into the doorway of the office, easily taking her into his arms. “I think you’re pretty incredible, Marce.”
She grinned easily now. “Thanks, Wyatt. I think you’re great too.”
He touched his mouth to hers in a tender, loving kiss. Oh, how Marcy loved kissing him. And instead of going down the hall to eat dinner, Wyatt led her into her bedroom.
Their bedroom.
Later that night, she lay in his arms while his chest rose and fell in an even pattern. “Wyatt?”
“Hmm?”
“I think we should look at buying a new house.”
His muscles tensed for a moment. “Really?”
“Yes,” she said, sliding her hand across his chest. “Really.”
He twisted to reach for his phone on the nightstand. “I’ll call Rhett right now and find out who he used to buy Momma’s place.”
Marcy should’ve known Wyatt would take action immediately. That’s what Wyatt did. If there was a problem, he solved it. If he had something on his mind, he talked about it. If he got the green light to buy a house, he called a real estate agent.
Naturally.
Marcy smiled to herself as he talked to his brother on the phone, and when the call ended, he said, “Jim texted.”
“He’s just going to ask you to do that tour again.”
“Maybe I should think more about it,” he said, keeping his back to her as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, we’re settled now. You’re flying every day. I’m just working at Bowman’s.”
“Uh, we have a dinner with your mom every other day.”
He chuckled, his thumbs obviously moving across his screen. “He said I can call.”
“All right,” she said, laying back onto her pillow. “Call him then.”
Wyatt stood up and left the bedroom, the words, “Hey, Jim,” coming from his mouth before he made it to the hall.
Marcy sighed, because she did not want Wyatt to go on the road to promote his western wear line. The last time Jim had called, he’d proposed a six-week tour all over the South, leaving Marcy in Three Rivers to fly over the same fields day after day.
She didn’t like the bitterness in her thoughts, because she loved those fields. She loved flying. Heck, she’d gone straight to Wyatt to ask him to marry her so she could keep flying over the same fields day after day.
Last time Jim had asked, Marcy had said they’d just gotten home from their honeymoon, and they needed some time to settle in. But Wyatt was right. They were settled now.
She sighed up at the ceiling, as if it would have any sway over what Wyatt did. But Marcy knew it wouldn’t. She barely had any sway over him, and she got up and padded across the hall to the computer.
She’d never come back to finish the music or the titles, and she clicked and dragged and got everything where it needed to be. She saved her project, pushed play to watch it one more time, and clung to the happiness streaming through her the same way the plane flew effortlessly over the fields, maintaining them with precision to make Seven Sons the amazing ranch it was.
Because she had a very real feeling that things were about to change.
“Marce?” Wyatt asked from behind her. “Come listen to what Jim has to say, would you?”
No, she did not want to. She thought she’d dodged this bullet.
You should’ve known better, she told herself as she got up and followed Wyatt into the kitchen. After all, her husband was a celebrity. A minor one, to a very niche group of people, but still a celebrity.
She’d never have him all to herself.
“She’s here, Jim.” Wyatt leaned his elbows on the counter as he hovered over the phone, which was on speaker.
Marcy got a bottle of water out of the fridge, though she’d probably only take a sip. She should’ve been asleep thirty minutes ago, as she had early mornings during the week. The best time to fly was as the sun warmed the earth in the morning, and every sunrise soothed her soul.
“Okay, hey, Marcy,” Jim said.
“Hi, Jim,” she said. She’d met him in Dallas, at the wedding, and another time when he’d been in the area with one of his cowboys. She liked the man; she did. He was about ten years older than Wyatt, and he possessed a kind face and a warm spirit.
Marcy just didn’t want him to take Wyatt from her.
She wasn’t sure why. She’d spent many years alone, and she valued her independence. She didn’t need a man to keep her warm at night, and she wasn’t afraid of the dark. But somehow, over the course of the last six months, she’d gotten very comfortable with Wyatt, and she liked having him around.
“Wrangler would like to do a joint promotion with Wyatt.”
Marcy watched Wyatt, and she saw something come alive inside him. He loved being the spotlight, and Marcy didn’t want to deny him that.
“The tour is eight weeks, and we’ll be going around Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Alabama, Kentucky, and up to Montana.”
&
nbsp; “Wow,” Marcy said.
“Wyatt would be on the road during that time, but he doesn’t have something every day.”
“What would be the schedule?” he asked.
“Nothing’s set,” Jim said. “Wrangler just called last week, and they have to know you’re in before they can put anything together.”
“Who will they send?” Wyatt asked.
“Jake Burrows,” Jim said.
Wyatt nodded, so Jake Burrows must be someone he could stand traveling around with for eight weeks. “He’s the rookie of the year.”
“That’s right,” Jim said. “And it would be from Labor Day to Thanksgiving.”
Marcy pulled in a breath. “But he’ll be home for the holidays, right?”
“Yes,” Jim said. “I can guarantee that, Marcy.”
She looked at Wyatt, who gazed steadily back at her. “We need to talk about it,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “When do you need to know?”
“End of the month,” Jim said. “Take your time.”
“Thanks, Jim.” Wyatt hung up and straightened, and Marcy knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“It’s just eight weeks,” they said together. “And I’ll be home for the holidays,” he added.
Marcy nodded, but she was somewhat desperate to find a reason he should stay with her. She wasn’t sure why. “Let’s think about it this week,” she said. “And pray about it, and talk on Sunday, after church?”
“Sure, okay.” Wyatt couldn’t argue with taking time to pray about the decision, but Marcy only felt guilt as she went back down the hallway and into her office.
There was that darn her again, and she twisted into Wyatt when he joined her. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, and she murmured, “What about the house?”
“I’ll get us something lined up in the morning,” he said.
“They’re going to ask us what we want.”
“They are?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile, glad their tiny disagreement over his tour hadn’t put too much distance between them. “So you better start thinking about that too, cowboy.”