by Vivi Holt
“Disgusting – it smells like foot!”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t realize you’d be home so soon. How’d it go?” She threw the empty jug in the recycling bin and went to hug her friend.
Jen returned the embrace, then hurried to open every window she could find. “It was good. Everything went fine and Gus barely batted an eye when he saw me. I told him I’d been there the whole time, that you’d just ridden down with him to keep him company. I think he bought it. But I’m done with lying – it’s exhausting and twists my stomach into knots and makes me want to throw up.” She shivered and slumped down onto a kitchen chair.
“I’m with you on that. No more pretending. No more lies. Let me tell you, I’m a terrible actress. If you ever need someone to pretend to be you again, please don’t choose me. I’m really no good at it.” She groaned and slid into a chair beside Jen.
Jen pulled a packet of Starburst from her pocket and offered one to Hazel. “So how was rehearsal?”
Hazel took one, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. “Fine.”
“Fine? I thought this was it, the opportunity of a life time, blah blah blah.” Jen leaned her elbows on the table.
“Yeah, I thought so too. But I don’t know. I’m starting to wonder if it really is all I’ve ever wanted, or if I followed this path just to please my folks.” She leaned her cheek on the table and folded the empty candy wrapper into a tiny square.
Jen sat up straight and lifted her feet onto the lip of her chair, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Okay, tell me this – if you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”
Hazel chewed the candy. “I don’t know.”
“What would make you happy, make your heart sing, you know?” Jen frowned and rested her chin on top of her knees. “For me, it’s working with animals. I absolutely love it. And I thought it was the violin for you, but if it’s not, then what is it?”
Hazel lifted her head from the table and gazed into the distance. What did she love? What would make her happy? She’d enjoyed her time at the ranch – the relaxed atmosphere, clean air, beautiful scenery, and of course the company. And she loved working with the local Junior Orchestra. She’d helped children learn to play as part of an ensemble, their little faces lighting up when they got it right. That definitely made her heart sing. “Well, I love teaching kids …”
“Really?” Jen grimaced. “Ugh.”
With a laugh, Hazel cocked her head to one side. “No, it’s great. They’re sweet and they listen and try to do what I ask them. And they’re so happy when they get it. It’s adorable.”
“Well, I don’t understand it, but if that’s where your bliss is, why don’t you do that?”
“Do what?” asked Hazel. Working with the Junior Orchestra was a volunteer role – she couldn’t do it for a living.
“Teach!” cried Jen in frustration.
“Teach?”
“Yeah, become a teacher. People do it all the time.”
Hazel’s eyes widened and she sat up straight. She could teach music! Why hadn’t she ever thought of that before? She enjoyed performing, but after a while it felt hollow. However, every time she’d taught, she’d loved it. And teachers were needed everywhere there were schools, not just in Atlanta or other big cities. Even in small towns in south Georgia. “Huh. Do you really think I could?” She pursed her lips, considering the possibilities.
“You would kick so much butt at it,” Jen assured her.
* * *
I-75 stretched out wide and straight as it headed southeast. Hazel had secured the roof of the convertible to protect herself from the sun burning overhead. She turned the air conditioning up further, until it was blasting the damp curls off her neck. With a deep breath, she reached for the radio dial and turned up the music. Sibelius was playing, loud and dissonant – good preparation for facing her parents.
She was headed to Jekyll Island, and her nerves were already jangling. Her pulse raced every time she pictured the looks on their faces when she told them her decision. She was leaving the symphony to be a music teacher.
Ever since Jen had suggested the idea weeks earlier, she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. She’d researched it, obsessed over it, had every university she could think of in Georgia and north Florida send her an information packet about their teaching program. She was excited, nervous and happy all at once. For the first time in a long time she felt as though the future wasn’t written in stone but ripe with possibility.
An exit sign declared it was her turnoff. She checked her mirrors and merged into the far-right lane. State Highway 16 would take her most of the way there, while I-75 headed south toward, among other places, Tifton. If she just keep going and didn’t take the exit, she’d find herself back in Tifton before nightfall …
The heck with it.
She stepped on the gas and sailed past the exit. Her parents would be furious when she didn’t show up again, but she’d deal with that later – at a comfortable distance. What she really wanted to do right now was talk to Dalton about everything. It made little sense, since they hadn’t spent much time together, but it felt like she’d known him forever. She really wanted to hear what he thought of her plan.
That, and she missed him. Just the thought of his arms around her, his lips on hers, made her shiver in anticipation. They’d spoken on the phone almost every day in the weeks since she left the Cotton Tree, and she found herself waiting for his calls, even begging off social engagements to make sure she was home when he phoned. They’d spend hours talking about any and everything. But she still hadn’t talked to him about this, about leaving the orchestra to teach. She hadn’t been able to get the words out. It was something she wanted to discuss face to face.
She changed the radio station, scanning until she found some country music, then leaned back in her seat. She was going to see Dalton and she couldn’t get the grin off her face.
* * *
The sign for Cotton Tree Ranch swayed in the breeze over the gate as Hazel climbed out of her convertible to open it. She drove through, closed it behind her and saw Rocket Peak prancing along the fence line, his nostrils flared. Another mare, a palomino, grazed nearby in his pasture. “Hey, Rocket, you stud,” she quipped. “I’ll bring you a carrot later, boy.”
She was glad she’d decided to wear her cowgirl boots that morning. She’d been feeling nostalgic, and now it was a necessary touch – no tromping through fields in pumps. Denim shorts and a black tank top completed the ensemble, with her chestnut curls pulled back into a messy ponytail. She ran a hand over her hair, wishing she’d made more of an effort.
She reached the house and saw Eamon, Parker and little Harley by the barn. The dog came bounding toward her, still awkward in his gait. His little paws tripped over a tuft of grass and sent him nose-first into a puddle lined with red clay, but he stood up, shook his head and continued toward her.
She climbed from the car with a laugh and caught him in her arms. “Hello there, little one,” she crooned, rubbing his tummy with her fingertips. His tail wagged madly and he licked her fingers in excitement.
Eamon and Parker regarded them from a distance, then walked over to greet her. “Hey, Hazel. We weren’t expecting to see you again so soon,” said Eamon, tipping his hat.
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on coming back so soon. But I needed to talk to Dalton about something. Is he around?”
She noticed the strained look that passed between the brothers. “Ah, no. He’s in town for a bit. He’ll be back soon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he has a meeting,” offered Parker, adjusting his hat.
“Okay. Well, do you mind if I hang out for a while and wait for him?”
Eamon grinned. “Sure, come on in. I’ll make you a cup of coffee. Or if that’s too hot for you, we’ve got lemonade.”
“Lemonade sounds wonderful.” Hazel opened the passenger door, retrieved her purse and followed Eamon inside.
In the kitchen, she pulled a st
ool up to the counter and watched him pour her an ice-cold glass of lemonade, salivating in anticipation. It wasn’t often she let herself drink anything sugary, but being back on the ranch made her feel almost carefree. Eamon had removed his hat and set it on the counter, and a lock of blonde hair hung over his forehead and obscured his eyes. He looked like Dalton, only fairer – same mischievous dimples and confident air.
He handed her the drink and she took a sip. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Dalton wasn’t even here – how long should she wait for him? Why had she come? What did she think would happen – he’d fall into her arms, beg her to stay, confess his undying love? Of course not. She was being ridiculous – they barely knew each other, yet here she was, imagining how their lives might come together.
She’d made a big decision about her future, and now she was trying to fit Dalton into it. But she wasn’t entirely sure he’d want her to. He’d said he did, but perhaps things had changed since the last time she saw him.
Eamon watched her in curiosity. “Everything all right there, Slick?”
She ducked her head and her cheeks warmed. “Yeah, fine. How about you? How’s ranch life treating you, cowboy?”
He grinned. “It’s hard work. But … you know what? I’m loving it. Back home I’m an accountant.”
“An accountant?” she spluttered, spraying lemonade across the counter.
Eamon slapped her on the back as she coughed. “Don’t sound so surprised, Slick. Yes, I was a bean counter – still am.”
She recovered her composure and took a long, slow breath. “Don’t take this personally, Eamon, but you don’t seem like one.”
He chuckled. “Don’t let the boots and hat fool you. I dress in a suit everyday and drive my BMW to work in an office on the sixteenth floor of a high-rise in the heart of Chattanooga.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, you learn something new every day.”
He smiled and poured himself a glass, took a sip and leaned his elbows on the counter between them. “So, Slick, what’s the deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you doing back here so soon? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sweet on my big brother.” He winked and set his glass down.
Her face burned and she twisted the glass in a circle on the tile countertop. “Well, I’m trying to figure some things out.”
“Like …?”
“Like what to do with my life.” The words echoed in the room as she spoke them, coming back to her and making her gut lurch. She’d had her life all planned out – every piece in place – but in the space of a few days, a cowboy from south Georgia had her questioning everything. Or maybe it wasn’t just him – maybe she’d known for a while that something had to change. Maybe she’d be wrong all along about what she wanted, what she needed, and Dalton had just brought her some clarity.
Eamon pursed his lips. “Well, that isn’t a small thing. Have you got it figured out yet?”
She shook her head and took another gulp of lemonade. “Not quite. But I think I know what I want, so I suppose that’s a start.”
“Yeah.” He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers in salute. “Cheers to that.”
“Cheers,” she agreed with a shy smile. They both sipped their drinks, then set them back down on the counter. “So where did you say Dalton was?”
Eamon’s cheeks colored and he combed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t suppose he’d mind me telling you … he’s at the bank, asking for a line of credit. He can’t afford to keep the ranch going more than another two months. But if he’s to inherit the place, he has to make it four more months. It’s obvious to me that running this place is too much for him to do on his own, but he’s stubborn. I worry if he gets this line of credit and keeps going the way he has, he’ll lose everything and kill himself in the process. It’s a big ranch and it needs a lot of work – and to make it profitable might take more than he’s got.”
She rubbed her chin and studied Eamon’s face. She’d had no idea things were that dire. Dalton always made it seem like he had everything under control – he was so self-assured, so confident. She’d never have guessed the pressure he was under. “Have you talked to him about your concerns?”
Eamon shook his head and scratched his shoulder. “For all the good it’s done. He wants it to work out so badly and he’s sunk everything into this place.”
She nodded. “You’re an accountant – this is what you do for a living. Treat him like a client – run the numbers, then sit down and present him with options.”
With a sigh, he chewed his bottom lip. “You know, I haven’t done that.” The sound of a truck in the drive caught his attention, and he stood straight, his eyebrows lowered. “That must be Dalton now. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”
She nodded her thanks and waited at the counter, slowly drinking the refreshing liquid. Her purse was still looped over her shoulder, so she set it on the floor, her hand shaking. What was wrong with her? It was just Dalton – the same man she’d shared a tornado shelter with. The same man that had kissed her until her heart felt like it might leap from her chest.
The front door banged, boots slapped across the living room floor … and there he was, grinning, his eyes gleaming. “Hazel! I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He crossed the kitchen, pulled her in his arms and kissed her passionately on the lips. Her heart pounded, and she closed her eyes and wrapped her hands around his neck, threading her fingers into his thick hair.
She leaned back, opened her eyes and found his gaze fixed firmly on her. She smiled, her entire body trembling. He didn’t release his grip on her and she felt whole in his arms.
“Whatcha doing here?” He grinned and ran a finger down the side of her face, sending a tingle over her skin.
“I came to see you.”
“Oh?” There was a glint in his eyes.
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Well, that sounds serious. Can it wait until after dinner?” He released her and sat on a stool.
She returned to her seat and took his hands in hers, massaging his scarred knuckles, her body trembling. “Yes, I suppose it can.”
He studied her face. “You are staying, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course. Though I can’t promise anything extravagant, like you big-city folks are used to.” He winked.
“Sounds perfect,” she sighed.
Chapter 12
“I’ll buy Vermont Avenue.” Hazel now had the whole set of light blue properties – next she’d start building houses on them.
The Williams boys groaned. Dalton ran a hand over his forehead and Eamon slapped his thigh. “You’re cutthroat!” exclaimed Parker, passing her the card for Vermont.
She grinned. She loved to play Monopoly, and she didn’t mess around, buying property as fast as she could. Anyone she played against usually regretted their own reticence. She’d discovered the beat-up old board game in the back of the linen closet a few hours earlier when searching for sheets for the guest bed, since Dalton had convinced her to spend the night. She couldn’t remember an evening where she’d been so relaxed and happy – they all laughed over the game more than she’d laughed about anything in years.
“I love that you’re a heartless tycoon,” said Dalton, his eyes flashing. “Even if you are bleeding me dry with your rent.”
Hazel laughed an evil laugh and rubbed her hands together. Dalton’s eyebrows arched high and he pounced on her, tickling her sides until she squealed for mercy.
Eamon rolled his eyes and stood, stretching his hands over his head. “That’s it, I’m out.”
Fighting for breath, Hazel tried to push Dalton away. “No! We’re not finished yet …”
“How about some ice cream?” suggested Parker as he followed Eamon into the kitchen.
“Sounds good,” Eamon told him. “With chocolate sauce.”
&
nbsp; As soon as his brothers disappeared, Dalton turned serious and lowered his lips toward hers, his breath quickening, his gaze intense.
“But the game’s not done,” Hazel pouted.
“I think it is, sweetheart. Enjoy your victory.” He laughed softly and kissed her, then righted himself and settled beside her on the couch. “So what did you want to talk about?”
She sat up to face him, tucked her hair behind her ears and gathered her thoughts. “You know, when I was here last, I talked about how I wasn’t sure the orchestra was my dream?”
“Yeah …”
“Well, I’ve had time to really think about it. Jen suggested I consider what I wanted out of life, instead of just taking the path Mom and Dad planned for me to. So I did – I thought about it.”
She could see she’d piqued his interest. She paused for a breath, her heart pounding. Would it sound ridiculous? She was a musician performing at the highest level. The world was laid out before her with opportunities galore, and she was about to turn away from it all. Her father used to tell her, those who can, do; those who can’t, teach. She could just imagine what he’d say when she informed him of her plan. And yet her only worry was, what would Dalton think?
“And?” he prompted her.
“And I think … no, I know what I truly want to do is to teach. I want to teach music.”
“Oh. Wow.”
Was that a “good” wow, or a “you’re crazy” wow? She tensed and waited.
“Do you mean you want to teach school? Or private lessons?”
“School,” she replied firmly. “Maybe private lessons too, but mainly school.”
“Okay.”
She frowned. “You know, you could give me a little more enthusiasm. I’ve just told you something that’s really important to me and I’m dying to know what you think.”
“Well, I don’t want to sway you one way or the other. It’s not really my place …”
She grabbed his shoulders in frustration. “Yes, it is your place. I’m asking what you think.”
“If you really want my opinion … I think it’s fantastic!” He smiled and placed his hands over hers, squeezing them gently.