by Kelly, Amber
“What do you want?” I interrupt her rant to ask.
She stops and looks at me. “I want to walk down the aisle in a pretty dress, meet Braxton at the end and promise to love him for the rest of my life. Then, I want to eat, drink, dance, and celebrate with our friends and family under twinkling stars. I don’t care if the food cost twenty-five dollars a plate or a hundred twenty-five dollars a plate. I don’t care if the champagne is twenty dollars a bottle or two hundred dollars a bottle. As long as everyone enjoys it and enjoys themselves, that’s all I care about,” she says in answer.
“Then, there you have it. Pig pickin’ it is. Walker’s uncle is a master at roasting hogs, and you cannot beat his aunt’s sweet potato casserole and pasta salad. Let Viv spring for the highfalutin bubbly if it will make her feel better. Brax won’t be drinking that anyway. Walker and the boys will make sure there’s plenty of iced-down beer and moonshine,” I offer.
“She’ll hate that, but I think it’s a great compromise,” she admits.
“Yeah, well, she got over the boys wearing jeans and boots. If she can survive that epic meltdown, then this one should be a breeze,” I remind her.
“And you gave in on having that fancy designer do all the girls’ dresses and having all the flowers flown in. Which I still don’t understand. You’re having farmhouse flower arrangements and centerpieces brought in from New York City instead of getting them from the local florist right down the road, who grows her flowers on her farm,” Aunt Ria declares, shaking her head.
“I know, but I had to give her something,” Sophie grumbles.
“I swear, if I ever get married again, we are going down to the courthouse and getting it over with. None of this madness,” I share.
“You are not!” Sophie exclaims.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I missed your first wedding. I won’t miss this one too. And what about Beau? Don’t you want him there?” she asks incredulously.
“Jeez, you could come too. I’d need a witness. Besides, it’s never going to happen anyway. Unless Keanu Reeves himself shows up and sweeps me off my feet, I’m pretty sure I’m done with the whole marriage thing,” I assure her.
“What? Are you serious? Dallas, you’re only thirty-two years old. You have a lot of life left to live. Don’t you want to fall in love again?” Aunt Doreen asks.
I look up, and all three of them are staring at me.
“Not really.” I shrug. “Beau is the only man I need in my life.”
“That’s nonsense and too much responsibility to put on that baby,” Aunt Ria says as she places a hand on my shoulder.
“That’s true. Your someone is out there too, Dallas. Don’t go giving up on love because of that no-good ex-husband of yours. You and Beau deserve better, and God has better out there for you both,” Aunt Doreen continues.
They’re sweet, and I know they mean well, but I’m not sure I believe someone else could love me or if I even want that anymore. I’d be happy with a friend with benefits to knock the cobwebs off my bedpost every now and again, but I’m not interested in anything more than that. It’s hard enough, just keeping my and Beau’s needs met. The last thing I want to have to worry about is a man’s need for time and attention.
I don’t say any of that out loud though. I just smile sweetly and agree. No one wins an argument with the Lancaster sisters. No one.
Dallas
Once Sophie and I finish with our workday, she drives me to the school to pick Beau up. His face lights up when he sees her truck waiting in the pickup line as his class files out.
He runs toward us with his white wings flapping behind him.
“Hi, Miss Sophie,” he greets as he wraps his arms around her legs and squeezes tight.
“Hey there. Don’t you make the handsomest little bug?” she says as she squats down to his eye-level and tugs at his suspenders.
“I didn’t win first prize, but I did get third.” He holds up the yellow ribbon for us to admire.
“Who won first place?” I ask, a little miffed that my creation only garnered a third-place win.
“Logan. She was Mary Poppins, and she looked just like the lady on the movies,” he explains as I bend down and help him remove his wings.
“I guess that deserved first place, then, huh?” I ask, trying to gauge his level of disappointment.
“It sure did,” he agrees as he plucks the eyeballs from his head and hands them off to me.
“Brock got second, and he was Ron from Harry Potter. His mommy bought it for him for Christmas at the park in Florida. Mrs. Perry said mine was the best homemade costume though, so we all three got ice cream at lunch,” he declares proudly while holding up three fingers and grinning big.
“That’s pretty awesome,” Sophie congratulates him, and he agrees enthusiastically.
He is such a great kid. He doesn’t get offended easily, and he is always happy for other people when something good happens for them. I don’t know how I got so lucky to end up as this human being’s mother, but I’m grateful.
I buckle him in the backseat and toss his backpack beside him.
Then, I shut the door and mumble to Sophie over the roof, “They aren’t even old enough to read Harry Potter yet. They were supposed to dress as characters from their favorite books. Brock’s momma is a cheater!”
She wholeheartedly agrees.
Beau was robbed.
When we pull up outside of our home, the hood of my truck is up, and Payne and Myer are elbows deep in my engine.
Hopefully, this means a trip to the garage won’t be necessary.
Sophie parks, and we all hop out and head to the boys.
“What’s the damage?” I ask as we approach.
Myer’s head pops up. “Alternator is bad. I called and had Payne and your dad pick one up from down at the parts store on their way home. Once we get it on and charge the battery, you should be good to go,” he says as he wipes a bead of sweat from his face and leaves a streak of grease across his nose and cheek.
“How much was the part?” I ask my brother, who is loosening a bolt with a ratchet.
Thank goodness these boys grew up tinkering with tractor and truck engines.
“It was about a hundred dollars. Dad charged it to the farm’s account,” Payne answers.
“Great. He can add it to the outrageous sum I already owe him and Mom,” I state as Beau pulls an old milk crate up beside Myer and climbs up to look under the hood.
“Beau, be careful. Don’t get in Myer’s and Uncle Payne’s way,” I scold.
“He’s fine. We need an extra helper anyway, don’t we, Payne?” Myer asks as he looks down at Beau’s excited face.
“We sure do. Think you can hold on to this for me while I remove this bad part?” Payne asks as he hands the ratchet over to Beau.
“Yep. I got it,” Beau says proudly as his uncle removes the bad alternator and chucks it to the side.
Sophie walks up beside me. “Look at his face. He sure loves helping the boys work, doesn’t he?” she asks as we both watch Beau beam with pride as he holds the tool.
Myer and Payne are both patient and explain every step to him as he eagerly watches and listens.
“Yeah, he definitely has a little rancher in him,” I agree.
I thank her for the ride, and she heads home to Braxton while I go inside and start cooking. The least I can do is feed the two and a half men out there, spending their evening working on my old truck.
“Thanks for supper. It was delicious,” Myer says as he brings his plate over to the sink, where I’m running the water to do the dishes.
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do since you spent most of your day helping me,” I reply without meeting his eyes.
He gently elbows me in the side. “You know I don’t mind,” he says earnestly.
I look up at his handsome face and giggle. The smudge of grease is still there, so I wet a dish towel, add a little dish soap, and turn to him.
<
br /> “What?” he asks as I stand on my tiptoes and reach up.
“You have grease on your nose. Hold still,” I command as I start to gingerly swipe at his face with my cloth.
He places his hands on either side of my waist to steady me, closes his eyes, and bows his head closer to me, so I can reach him easier.
I notice the way his long eyelashes fan out on his cheeks and the smattering of dark stubble that frames his strong jaw. He has a nice face—a really nice face. I involuntarily trace his jaw with my fingertip as I admire it.
His breath stutters for a brief moment, and his fingers grip tighter on my hips.
His eyes open, and they meet mine for a split second before a throat clears. We both turn to see Payne holding Beau wrapped in a towel.
I step back and drop the cloth into the sink before walking to them with my arms open. “Thanks for giving him a bath for me,” I say as I take my sleepy boy into my arms.
“Are we going to have a sleepover?” he asks as I start to walk him toward his room.
“Not tonight, baby. It’s a school night, and Uncle Payne and Myer have to get home and get some sleep because they have to be up early for work tomorrow.”
“But they can sleep in my room,” he offers as a big yawn escapes.
“Maybe this weekend, buddy,” Payne calls over my shoulder.
“Promise?” Beau asks as we reach his door.
He knows that we don’t make promises in this house unless we intend to keep them.
I turn and raise an eyebrow at my brother. He walked right into that one.
“Yeah, I promise.”
He won’t be able to get out of that, which means that I’ll get a night to myself. It’s perfect timing, too, with Sophie’s friend Charlotte coming into town this weekend. I won’t have to ask Momma to babysit or pay Sonia.
“Tell Uncle Payne and Myer good night.”
“Good night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he singsongs as he waves at them, and I carry him to his bed.
We recite his bedtime prayers, but he is fast asleep before I retrieve the book from his shelf to read his bedtime story, so I tuck him in tight and kiss his forehead. I pull his door almost shut, and I tiptoe back into the living room.
Then, I whisper to Myer, who is standing by the door, “You heading out?”
“Yeah, Payne just took off, but I wanted to make sure you locked up when I left,” he whispers back.
I look over to the kitchen, and the dishes are on the drying rack, the table has been wiped down, and everything is put away.
“Thank you again, Myer. I don’t know what we would have done without you today,” I say as I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze.
“Anytime, Dal,” he answers as he lays a kiss on the top of my head.
Then, he walks out on the porch, and I shut the door.
I sigh. It’s been a long day. I want to take a hot shower, get in my pajamas, and watch some trashy reality TV for a while.
“Locks!” I hear the command yelled from the driveway.
I quickly turn the dead bolt and slide the chain in place.
I don’t know why he’s so demanding. I live on my family’s twenty-acre farm, practically in my parents’ backyard, and Payne’s house is so close that I could throw a rock and hit it. It’s not like we’re in any danger out here.
Still, that warm feeling slides over me again because he stayed to make sure we were secure before he headed home. We sure are blessed to have a friend like him.
Dallas
“Order’s up, Dallas,” Andy bellows as he bangs on the silver bell in the window.
“Yell or bell, Andy. This place is twelve hundred square feet. Choose one,” I call out to him as I wipe down the cracked red pleather seat of one of the recently emptied booths.
I quickly rinse my hands, and then I load the hot plates on a tray and deliver them to the waiting table as the door chime rings to let us know another customer has entered the diner.
“Here you go, Joe. Be careful; these plates are extra steamy today. I can’t have my favorite customer getting blistered.”
I wink at the kind, elderly gentleman who comes in every single morning for scrambled eggs, jelly toast, and coffee and always leaves a tip equal to the bill.
I grab two menus and head over to the table where the new arrivals have just seated themselves.
“Welcome to Faye’s,” I greet as I place menus in front of them. “You guys must be new in town,” I add as I turn over their coffee cups.
“Is it that obvious?” the good-looking, dark-haired stranger answers in a sexy-as-hell baritone.
“Not really. I just know all the comings and goings here in Poplar Falls, and I never forget a face, especially a handsome one. You guys just passing through?” I flirt as I retrieve a carafe, raise it in question, and begin to fill their mugs when they both nod.
He moves his green eyes from the menu, and a dimple peeks out on one side as his mouth lifts in a bashful grin. Then, he extends his arm. “Brandt Haralson,” he offers as I take his hand.
“Dallas Stovall. So, you’re our new vet,” I say as the name registers.
He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “You really do know all, huh?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Sure do. Plus, I work in the office over at Rustic Peak Ranch, and my parents and brother own Hendersons’ Farm and Apple Orchard. This is just my side hustle.”
I sit down beside him, and he does a surprised scoot across the bench.
“Dr. Sherrill retiring is big news around here. Your name has been on everyone’s curious lips since he announced it last year. We weren’t expecting you until the end of summer though,” I continue.
“My house in Oregon sold quicker than I expected, so we decided to head this way and look at properties. Dr. Sherrill offered his guesthouse while we choose, and I offered to help with the branding season. Figured it was a good way to get out and meet everyone and get acquainted with the town before I take over the practice,” he explains.
“Good call. People will be more accepting of you if Doc brings you around and introduces you.”
“I take it, I have big shoes to fill?” he asks.
“Yeah, he’s well-loved, but don’t worry; we’re a very welcoming town once we get to know you. Might work you to the bone, but we’ll feed you and treat you kind. And just who is this beauty you have here?” I look to the older woman seated across from us.
“I’m sorry. How rude of me. This is my mother, Elaine,” he introduces.
“It’s nice to meet you, Momma Haralson,” I say with a smile.
“The pleasure is mine,” she offers in return.
I stand as I hear Andy’s bell go off again.
“I’ll give you two a chance to decide. Everything is good, except for that egg-white veggie scramble thingy Faye added last week. Yuck. But you can’t go wrong with the home fries, and the pies are made by hand and to die for. A secret family recipe. Dessert’s on me, by the way,” I say as I walk off.
“Dessert? At breakfast?” I hear Mrs. Haralson whisper to Brandt.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s never too early for pie!” I call back over my shoulder, and I hear a rich laugh ring out around me.
After my shift, I drive out to the house to deliver sandwiches to Daddy and Payne before picking Beau up from school.
It’s my favorite time of year. The weather is just starting to warm up from the blistering winter freeze, so you can open your windows and let the fresh air in, but the nights are still cold enough to require a fire to keep you cozy.
As I pull up to the farm’s gate, I’m greeted by the scent of hollyhocks blowing on the breeze. All of Momma’s flowers are starting to spring up in a stunning array of colors, and the trees are beginning to prick back to life. Early spring in the Colorado Mountains is hard to beat.
I find Daddy and Payne in the backyard, tinkering with an old lawnmower.
Daddy retired from the day-to-day running o
f the farm and orchard last year after his knee replacement surgery. His heart still very much wants him to be out there, working in the fields full-time, but his body has had enough. It hasn’t been easy for him. Marvin Henderson is not a man comfortable with idle hands. So, he sleeps in a little more than he used to and then spends his days piddling around and tending to Momma’s flowers. He rides the orchard and fields on the Gator with Payne sometimes. He still feeds the livestock and, much to our dismay, saddles and rides his horse from time to time.
Payne and I used to fuss at him for it, but Momma sat us down one afternoon and told us that if we put him out to pasture, he will wither away. Men like Daddy are not built to sit and drink tea and watch grass grow. They need to be useful. So, Payne lets him come and go as he pleases and do what he feels up to doing, and he accommodates and respects Daddy’s input and help.
“Hey, Daddy,” I greet as I walk up with the bags of food.
“Hey, baby. Did you have a good shift today?”
“All right. It wasn’t too busy, but I made decent tips. Speaking of which”—I pull the bills folded together from my back pocket—“this should cover the cost of the alternator.”
I hand the cash out to him, and he eyes it for a minute and then focuses back on the mower chain he is cleaning.
“Keep it. You can pay me back later.”
I walk over to him and stuff the money into the front pocket of his flannel shirt. I kiss him on the cheek. “No, Daddy. I appreciate it, but you can’t keep me up forever. I really did make decent tips today.”
He sighs but doesn’t argue with me.
“Come on, Dad. Let’s get cleaned up. I’m starving,” Payne says as he tosses a wrench into the toolbox at his feet.