Hyacinth

  “Hank called. He’s bringing lunch.”

  In the distance, the dust kicked up. The ranch suburban came to a stop and Hank, the senior foreman who had been with the ranch since Logan was tall enough to mount his own horse, climbed out and walked over. His gait was that of a man who had spent more time on a horse than behind the wheel of a motor vehicle. “Maggie made her peach cobbler for dessert.”

  Whistles, hoots, and wide grins broke out. Logan had to admit, the woman made a mean cobbler. The hatch open and the tailgate down, the back of the suburban hosted a buffet spread fit for a king, or a hardworking cowboy.

  “I hear you’re heading up north?” Hank asked, filling up his own plate.

  “Yeah. Gramps and I are going to help out a buddy of his throwing his first fishing tournament.”

  Hank shook his head. “I can understand an afternoon at the creek, but I want to eat my catch not weigh it.”

  Funny how he’d felt the same way until he’d done his first tourney with his grandfather.

  “Boy, what are you doing?” Hank frowned at Cal.

  A biscuit in one hand, chomping away, the kid was playing a game on his phone with his other hand. “Bait and Fish.”

  Hank’s brow rose high on his forehead. “What?”

  “It’s a game,” one of the hands answered. “Everyone’s playing it. It’s bigger than Angry Birds.”

  “Angry what?” This time Hank’s brows buckled in confusion. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

  Suddenly Logan felt much younger. Though he had to admit, it wasn’t often anyone found a cowhand using his lunch break to play games on his phone. At least the kid had good taste.

  Hank’s head snapped around to Logan. “And what are you grinning at?”

  “Me?” He bit back a smile. “Nothing.”

  “God…” Cal started, frowning down at his phone.

  “You’d better not be thinking of taking the lord’s name in vain,” Hank snapped.

  “I can’t get past level five. I’ve been at this forever. Keep falling out of the canoe.”

  “Let me see what you’re doing.” Logan leaned to one side for a better view of the kid’s screen.

  “You play?” Cal asked.

  “Some.” He shrugged. “Don’t go so fast. That’s the mistake everyone makes. This isn’t speed, it’s endurance. And don’t waste your bait.”

  Cal frowned and shoving the last morsel of biscuit in his mouth, used two hands to tackle the game. Five minutes later the kid threw his arms into the air and sprang to his feet. “Level six, here I come!”

  “Yeah, well.” Hank pushed to his feet. “Level six will have to wait till after you finish working this fence line.”

  “Yes, sir.” Without hesitation, Cal slid the phone into his pocket, placed his hat on his head, and just like that, the kid gave way to a hard working cowboy.

  There was something to be said for slowing down. His grandfather was probably right. A little time up north would be really good for him. A few hundred fishermen aside, just him, his gramps, and the fish. What more could a man ask for?

  ***

  Some days the idea of returning to horses for transportation held enormous appeal for Rose. Even if the beautiful animals couldn’t travel at sixty miles an hour, a good horse could probably get her across Boston in less time than a fast car stuck in rush hour traffic. Which brought a whole other problem to light. Why did they still call it rush hour when the business commute time had become more like rush four-hours. At times like Fridays and holiday weekends—or like today, when there’s an accident—rush half-a-day was more appropriate. It had taken most of what should have been the almost three-hour drive to get to the lake just to get out of the Boston area limits.

  Now she’d turned off the main highway and onto the country roads that would take her to Hart Land. Already her blood pressure was dropping and she could feel the tension that had taken residence in her shoulders easing away. So many shades of green hung over the drive; she loved Mother Nature’s canopy. This was the way traveling should be. Not even a bumpy ride in a hundred year old carriage would have mucked it up—or the ringing of her cell phone. Hitting accept call on her steering wheel, she smiled at the General’s name on her dashboard. “I’m almost there.”

  “And good afternoon to you too. The least you can do is wait for me to ask the question before answering.”

  “And why would I want to do that when I already know the question? Cutting to the chase saves time.”

  “Young lady, this is not Boston. Life on the mountain is not about saving time.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. She sucked in a long deep breath of fresh mountain air. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now.” She could hear his hands clap together enthusiastically.

  No doubt he’d used his laptop to call her. Ever since his Annapolis reunion last year, the old guy had become practically addicted to his computer. Few things in life were as entertaining as catching him doing screen time with another old military man and reliving the antics of their college years. Tough old dogs.

  “I know how hard it is for you to let go of control,” the General said.

  Pot calling the kettle black. “I like things in order. There’s a difference.”

  “Yes, there is.” She could hear his smile.

  Of all the grandchildren she was the most military in her thoroughness. If not for the need to rise before the sun and wear the most ghastly shades of khaki, she might have entertained a military career. Then again, there was no way she’d be the one doing the commanding at her age if she had.

  “As I was saying,” her grandfather continued, “I expect you to take it easy for at least a couple of days. Relax. Refresh your card playing skills.”

  She almost laughed at that one. There was no refreshing. She could annihilate the competition at cards since long before high school. That thoroughness allowed for an almost computer-like accounting of cards played. She didn’t even need a color-coded system to keep track. “Don’t you worry about my skill set.”

  “No. I suppose not.” He chuckled. That sound was music to her ears. The gruff old man would always hide his tender heart behind his crusty Marine exterior. Whenever the shields came down was always extra special for any of his granddaughters. She was no exception. “I also thought it would be a good time for you to learn a bit more about—”

  No, don’t say it.

  “Fishing.” He’d said it.

  At the ripe old age of six, she’d been bamboozled into doing something fun with her grandfather. Catching and handling slippery, slimy, wiggling, soon-to-be dead fish had not been fun. And she’d not been cajoled, coerced, or convinced to try it again since.

  “We’ll see.” That response had worked about as well on her grandfather as it would on a six year old when her parents were actually saying not-likely-in-my-lifetime, but it was safer than outright digging her heels in the dirt.

  “I bought you a fishing pole. It’s pink.”

  “General,” she bit back a laugh, “that hasn’t been my favorite color since I was seven.”

  “Hm. Purple?”

  “That’s Poppy.” Or maybe it was Callie. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter if it’s fourteen karat gold. I can run a successful art world fundraiser without learning to paint. I’m sure an auction at a fishing tournament will work the same way.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Two words that made her cringe. When voiced by a retired US Marine Corps general, the words held a completely different meaning than when uttered by young parents. Already she was considering what outfit had she brought that would match a pink fishing pole.

  Read more of ROSE, available now on Kobo!

  ***

  MEET CHRIS

  Author of dozens of contemporary novels, including the award winning Aloha Series, Chris Keniston lives in suburban Dallas with her husband, two human children, and two canine children. Though she loves her puppies equally, she admits being especially attached to he
r German Shepherd rescue. After all, even dogs deserve a happily ever after.

  More on Chris and her books can be found at www.chriskeniston.com

  Follow Chris on Facebook at ChrisKenistonAuthor or on Twitter @ckenistonauthor

  ***

  Books by Chris Keniston

  Available on Kobo

  Hart Land

  Heather

  Lily

  Violet

  Iris

  Hyacinth

  Rose

  Farraday Country

  Adam

  Brooks

  Connor

  Declan

  Ethan

  Finn

  Grace

  Hannah

  Ian

  Jamison

  Keeping Eileen

  Aloha Series Closed Door Edition:

  Aloha Texas

  Almost Paradise

  Mai Tai Marriage

  Dive Into You

  Look of Love

  Love by Design

  Love Walks In

  Flirting with Paradise

  Surf's Up Flirts:

  (Aloha Series Companions)

  Shall We Dance

  Love on Tap

  Head Over Heels

  Perfect Match

  Just One Kiss

  It Had to Be You

  Other Books

  By Chris Keniston

  Honeymoon Series

  Honeymoon for One

  Honeymoon for Three

  Family Secrets Novels:

  Champagne Sisterhood

  The Homecoming

  Hope's Corner

  Original Aloha Series

  Waikiki Wedding

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen - Epilogue

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  Recipe for Apfel Kuchen