Birthday Boyfriend (Quinn Valley Ranch Book 21)

by Liz Isaacson

  Jessie felt like she had to ask Flynn if she could come see him in the evenings, and she invited him to the ranch for Sunday lunches and dinners, though those things would all change once Betsy wasn’t living in the homestead anymore.

  A couple of weeks before the first auction date, she climbed the steps to his homestead, feeling weary and worn out. She knocked, but he didn’t answer the door, and she sat on the top step in the shade, wondering what she was doing.

  In all honesty, she felt like she was pushing Flynn into a corner he didn’t want to be in. They did text a lot, but it was mostly about work, and he hadn’t asked her about the auction once. When he’d worked on the ranch, he stopped by every morning and talked to her about the calves, the bid sheets she was preparing, the weights of the cows she’d selected.

  Now he had his own animals to care for, and fences to fix, and crops to work on. Since the farm had sat without any human care for over a month, he did have a lot of work to do. She didn’t begrudge him that. Flynn had always worked long hours, and they’d found time to talk, go to dinner, and spend time together.

  But he’d stopped coming to church too, and Jessie actually felt lonely again.

  She scoffed at herself and watched as a line of dust lifted into the air to her right. Sally emerged around the corner, and Jessie clapped her hands as if the dog didn’t already know she was there.

  The cattle dog came right up to her and licked her face while Jessie patted her. “Where’s Flynn, huh? What’s he doing?”

  He’d said she could come that night, and she expected seven-thirty to be plenty late for him to come in from his chores. Maybe something had happened. Jessie knew the perils and unpredictability of a ranch better than anyone.

  Several minutes later, an unfamiliar truck came roaring down the road in the same direction Sally had come from. Jessie stared at it, blinking a couple of times before her mind accepted that it was painted a light pink.

  It came all the way to the homestead and parked next to her white one, and a curly-haired blonde jumped from behind the wheel. She was perky and petite, and everything Jessie could never be. She wore a pair of jeans that seemed welded to her legs, and a red shirt that actually had a knot tied on the side near her hip, the way women much younger than her did.

  She obviously didn’t see Jessie, because she emitted a high-pitched, girly giggle when Flynn got out of the truck too.

  “Contract’s inside,” he said, moving toward the house. “Come on in, Francine. You can sign it and come back tomorrow.”

  Jessie stood just as Flynn reached the shadows cast by the house, her heart thumping everywhere but in the right spot inside her body.

  “Jess,” Flynn said, surprise clear in his voice, as if he wasn’t expecting her.

  He forgot, she told herself as he climbed the steps. He didn’t touch her the way she expected him to. “I just hired Francine to be my mechanic.”

  “Oh,” Jessie said, sure the giggling woman had more on her mind that a tune-up of Flynn’s tractors, though he had mentioned that almost all of the equipment was old and in need of repair.

  Flynn smiled at her and went right past, opening the door and leaving it open for everyone to follow him inside. The dogs did, and Francine came leaping up the stairs like a little puppy dog herself.

  She didn’t even say hello to Jessie. She just went past her, the smile slipping a little bit. Jessie felt like she’d been wrapped in waxed paper. She could hear voices in Flynn’s house. See the landscape before her, including that ridiculous pink pickup.

  But nothing was all the way clear, nothing made enough sense. Her only thought screamed at her to get away from this blurred reality. Find some clarity. Figure things out.

  She heard her footsteps as she went down the wooden stairs to the packed earth. Heard the rumble of her engine as it started. Heard her heart cracking as she drove away from Flynn and Four Lanterns Farm.

  She’d eaten too much fried cheese, bacon-and-cheese potato skins, and brownie skillets by the time Flynn found her at the pub.

  “Hey,” he said, sliding into the booth across from her the way he had weeks ago. “Why’d you leave?”

  She lifted one shoulder into a shrug, because she didn’t want to tell him the truth. The skillet was empty, a pool of melted vanilla ice cream still there, so she didn’t have anything to distract her.

  Nothing but the dreamy man in front of her. And she wasn’t blind to his charms—every woman in the pub had looked his way when he’d come in.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching across the table to cover her hands with his.

  “You hired Francine,” Jessie said.

  “I needed a mechanic,” he said, confusion furrowing his brow. “We talked about it earlier this week.”

  “Yeah, when we talked about me bringing you dinner tonight so we could spend some time together.”

  Understanding filled his eyes, and he ducked his head. His sudden realization didn’t make anything better. In fact, the fact that he’d forgotten she was coming made everything worse.

  “It’s fine.” Jessie sighed the words out and slid out of the booth. “I have to get home.”

  “Jess,” he said, following her, though he was obviously annoyed with her.

  She stalled at the end of the table, not wanting to cause a scene in her cousin’s pub. Too many eyes here. Too many people who knew every member of her family and would be talking before she got to her truck.

  “I feel like I’m forcing you to see me,” she said. “And I hate that.” She threw some money on the table and left the pub, desperate to get away from everyone and everything. She hadn’t thought about leaving the ranch since poker night months ago, but now anywhere felt better than staying here.

  “Jess, you’re not forcing me to do anything,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “And I hate that too.”

  “You hate that you’re not forcing me to do things?” Flynn caught up to her a few steps from her truck and touched her arm. “Can you wait, please?”

  She turned toward him, feeling two seconds away from exploding. “I don’t see you anymore,” she said. “Not at the ranch, which is fine. But I beg you to come to your place, and then when you finally say yes, you’re there with another woman.”

  “She’s a mechanic,” Flynn said.

  “Right,” Jessie said. “Did she actually fix anything? Because I have my doubts about Francine.” Her chest heaved, and she suddenly had so many reservations about everything. “And you don’t come to church anymore. And you don’t come to lunch at the homestead, and I don’t know, Flynn. Maybe this just isn’t going to work.”

  “Because I’m trying to put my farm together?”

  “Maybe we should just take a break for a while, until your life is more settled. Until you know what you want to commit to.”

  “Oh, I see.” He chuckled, but the sound didn’t hold much happiness. “You think I can’t commit to you.”

  “To anything,” Jessie said.

  “You’re so wrong,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “I’m committed to my farm.”

  Jessie waited for him to say more. She couldn’t blame him for making a living. She knew the pressures of running a ranch.

  “I have to go,” Jessie said. “The auction is tomorrow, and I’m tired already.” She got behind the wheel and gave Flynn an extra second to stop her. Lean into the window and tell her he was committed to her. To them.

  Heck, she’d take a good luck about the auction.

  She got nothing.

  Chapter 12

  Flynn surveyed the line of tractors parked in the equipment shed, none of which would start. He had no idea what to do about any of them, and Francine had been there all morning, and she didn’t either.

  He now had his doubts about Francine, who lounged in the back of his truck like she was a model waiting for the photographer to show up.

  So Jessie had been right.

  Flynn sighed and turned around. �
��All right, Francine,” he said. “Who do you know that’s a real mechanic?”

  “I think you just need new tractors,” she said, hopping down from the pickup.

  “No.” Flynn shook his head. “Let’s get you back to your car, and you can go on back to the nail salon or wherever you came from.” Then he’d escape to the air conditioned homestead and try to figure out how to hire good help.

  Rhodes managed to do it, and Flynn needed to call his best friend. Maybe Jonas Penshaw could work at Quinn Valley and here at Four Lanterns.

  He loathed the idea of getting in the cab with Francine, but he couldn’t leave her out here by herself. The drive back to the dirt in front of the house happened quickly, and Flynn practically flew from the truck, the image of Joseph fleeing from Potiphar’s wife in his mind.

  “Thanks so much,” he said, nodding at Francine as he hurried toward the front door.

  “You’re going?” she asked, darting in front of him.

  “Yes,” he said, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s not going to work out, Francine. You have a great day.”

  She put one hand on his chest, and Flynn’s skin crawled. “Are you sure?”

  “So very sure.” He stepped back, out of her reach, and added, “I have a girlfriend.”

  She giggled. “Okay. So do lots of my boyfriends. And your ranch is so far away, and….”

  “Nope,” he said.

  Anger flashed across her face. “Fine. But you’re not fooling anyone, Flynn Hollister. Everyone in town knows you don’t actually keep girlfriends.” She stomped over to her car and drove away.

  Everything pinched inside Flynn, but he managed to make it up the stairs and inside the house. Safely behind the closed and locked front door, he exhaled.

  “I do too keep girlfriends,” he said to the empty house, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Jessie’s line rang and rang, and sharp disappointment cut through him when he got her voicemail instead of her.

  She was probably screening, and that thought poisoned his mind.

  “Wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tonight,” he said. “After the auction. Call me.” He hung up quickly, because duh. She was at the auction today. No wonder she hadn’t answered.

  “And you were going to go,” he reminded himself. A glance at the clock told him if he wanted to be at the cattle auction in time to bid on the Quinn Valley cows, he had to leave right that minute.

  His stomach protested against the idea, but he grabbed his wallet and headed back out the front door. The cattle auction took place at the fairgrounds, and while Four Lanterns wasn’t so far away, as Francine had said, it still took ten minutes to get back to civilization. And another ten to get to the auction.

  When he walked in, the auctioneers voice ran ten miles a minute, and it took Flynn a few extra seconds to comprehend what the man was saying.

  He caught “Quinn Valley” and slaughterhouse, and hoped he hadn’t missed the calves Jessie always brought to increase herd size and ensure genetic lines didn’t die out.

  The auction ended as he took a seat, his paddle in his hand.

  “Up next, we have three hundred head of yearlings from Quinn Valley Ranch. These can be used to increase population or you can bring ‘em back next year and sell ‘em for slaughter.”

  Flynn perked up. These were the cows he wanted. The starting price was high, but Quinn Valley was well-known for their quality stock. A couple of other people bid before Flynn threw his number into the running.

  One person dropped out, and he caught sight of Jessie’s reddish-blonde ponytail swing to try to catch a glimpse of him. He ducked behind the tall cowboy in front of him and bid again, finally winning the three hundred calves.

  He’d have to talk to her eventually, and she’d know he’d just bought her cows the moment she checked out. But for now, he dashed out of the room the moment the auction ended, handed in his paddle, and hurried outside.

  Adrenaline rushed through him, as did a measure of sadness. He should’ve been here all day with Jessie. Asked her what she needed help with, and how he could support her.

  The work on his own farm had stolen his attention. It wasn’t a bad thing to be focused on, he knew that. He just didn’t want it to be the only thing—and the farm had become the only thing.

  I’m sorry, he tapped out to Jessie, right as a text from her came in. I can’t go to dinner tonight. I’ll be at the auction house all night.

  She might as well have added a, Just like I told you, Flynn, to the sentence. Foolishness filled him, and he stalled in his apology to her. If she was texting him, she’d listened to her message. Her auctions were over.

  He’d never paid much attention to the auctions, but he knew she prepped for them for weeks and months. She’d be tired tonight, and he should have dinner ready for her.

  He looked at the apology he’d been about to send, quickly changing it to, Okay. What time will you be done tonight?

  I don’t know.

  Maybe I could bring you dinner whenever you’re done.

  It took several minutes for her next text to come in. I don’t think so, Flynn.

  The breath left his body, and he hated texting out important conversations. He tapped the phone icon and listened to her line ring and ring and ring.

  I’m busy, she texted. I don’t think you need to worry about us anymore, Flynn. I told you that yesterday. We need a break.

  Humiliation hit him hard in the chest. “A break?” Sure, she’d said that last night, but he’d told her he was committed to his farm. He could commit to things. People. He could.

  Are you breaking up with me over a text?

  He wished he could recall the message the moment he touched his thumb to the green arrow to send it.

  Yes, her message said. I have to go. Sorry, Flynn.

  “Sorry, Flynn,” he repeated. Was she really sorry?

  He looked up, his eyes finding the door to the auction house easily. No one went in or out, and when his phone chimed again, he really didn’t want to look at it.

  In the end, he did, because how did someone ignore a text when they knew they had one? Thankfully, or maybe not, it wasn’t from Jessie. The text had a link where he could pay for his cattle, and he tapped on it, about to spend thousands of dollars just to get Jessie to talk to him again.

  She couldn’t break up with him over a text. Not with their history. Not only had he been with her longer than any other woman in the past five years, they were friends.

  Weren’t they?

  He typed in all the right numbers and sent the money flying through cyberspace from his account to hers. She arranged all the transport of cattle, and she’d be busy with that until next week’s auction.

  But at least he’d get to see her. If he could just tell her what he’d been so desperate to do at Four Lanterns. If she could just accept his apology.

  With the payment made, surely Jess would find out who had won the auction any minute now. And then she’d text him back, and everything would be fine between them.

  No texts came in. His heart beat louder and louder, quicker and quicker, and still she didn’t call or text.

  In the end, he had work to do, and he couldn’t sit in his truck forever. So he backed out and called Rhodes.

  “Hey,” his friend said, pure cheer in his voice. “How are things going?”

  “Not great,” Flynn said. “What are the chances I could borrow Jonas for a few days?”

  “Trouble with your machinery?”

  “All of it,” Flynn said, a sigh accompanying the words. He drove by the little church he’d gone to with all the Quinns, pulling off quick enough to give himself mild whiplash.

  “I’ll send you his number,” Rhodes said. “And Clay can come help too. He’s not bad with a wrench.”

  “Great,” Flynn said, trying not to be too excited to see other people he knew and cared about. “Thanks, Rhodes.”

  The call ended, and Flynn peered out the windshield at the spire on top of
the church. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot, but Flynn got out of the idling truck and walked down the sidewalk to try the door.

  Locked. Back in the cool, air-conditioned interior, he simply sat in the parking lot. “Sorry I haven’t been to church,” he said, his voice somewhat foreign in all this silence. “I’ve been real busy at the farm. There’s so much that needs to be done.”

  A general sense of drowning overtook him, and he’d learned to breathe through that in the past month or so since moving onto the ranch. It seemed to take longer than usual to find his center, but he eventually did.

  “Help me,” he said. “I want the farm to be a family legacy again. But I’ve just lost the only woman I’ve seriously considered having a family with.”

  The heavens didn’t open, and God didn’t speak to him. But Flynn felt a sense of peace way down in the tips of his boots. “We’re okay, right, Lord?” he asked.

  Flynn hadn’t been to church in a while, but he didn’t go to church to snuggle with Jessie. He went to feel the Lord’s hand in his life. He had missed it these past few weeks, but he still felt close enough to God to know he was loved.

  And that yes, he and the Lord were okay.

  Now, he just had to figure out how to make things okay with Jess.

  Chapter 13

  Jessie held everything together until the end of the auction. She’d brought seven lots of cattle on Quinn Valley’s first appearance at the weekly auction, and she’d done very well. Bidding wars in all the auctions, with half a dozen people chatting her up before the round with her cattle in it.

  Rhodes would be thrilled, and her father would be proud.

  Jessie should be happy, but she felt like throwing up. And crying.

  Instead, she put a smile on her face, ignored the rolling in her stomach, and focused on the winners of the auction. The auction house made it easy to collect the money and communicate with the winner.

  She knew most of them anyway. She’d been present in the auction, and there was only one where she hadn’t caught a glimpse of the winning bidder.