by Liz Isaacson
Probably should talk to Georgia about it, she thought. But she didn’t turn back, and Georgia was going through a tough time with Logan right now anyway. They weren’t exactly together anymore, and Betsy’s heart took courage.
If Georgia wasn’t dating Logan, she had no reason to object to Betsy starting something with Knox.
But every step Betsy took along the cleared path toward the blacksmith shop testified of something different. Pushing aside the doubts, she stuck her hands in her pockets, hoping for a bit of warmth. December in Idaho possessed a kind of icy brutality that pockets could not stave off.
The blacksmith shop will be warm. The thought drove her to move faster, and as she approached, she slowed. She felt like someone had tied her to a yo-yo in October, when Knox had shown up on the ranch wearing that delicious gray cowboy hat and saying he was their new farrier.
She’d texted him and asked him what he was doing for Christmas, and he’d said he had a ton of work to do for the new year since he was leaving town for a couple of weeks immediately following the holiday.
After that, he’d messaged. I’m going home for dinner.
He hadn’t asked her to come visit him. He never did, but Betsy felt fireworks between them every time they were in the same room together. And it was time to find out if Knox did too.
“If he doesn’t, fine,” she whispered to herself, her breath steaming into a thick cloud in front of her. “You’ll find someone else.” That statement was ridiculous, as Betsy rarely left the ranch and hadn’t dated in…she couldn’t even remember how long. She went to church with her family, and she’d met a man here and there over the years.
But nothing had ever sparked as hotly as the flame between her and Knox. As evidenced by what had happened in the kitchen, her excitement for him grew just by thinking about him.
Still, she stood at the door of the blacksmith shop without going in. Would he think her too forward?
Now or never, she thought, the cold pressing down on her now. The tips of her ears would be frostbitten if she didn’t either go into the shop or hurry back to the house. She checked her phone—only twelve minutes left before the timer on her ham went off, and someone would know she’d snuck out.
She raised her hand to knock, deciding to be brave and really pound on the door. Her fist swung down at the same time the door opened, and she ended up punching Knox in the face.
He grunted and groaned and fell back a couple of steps. Both of his hands went to his face, and horror struck Betsy behind the ribs.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” Blessed warmth emanated from the shop, and she rushed forward to help him. “I’m sorry, Knox. I was just knocking to see if you were here.”
“I’m here,” he said through his fingers. He touched his nose, and his fingers came away blood-free. He inhaled and sniffed and met her eye.
Those fireworks went off, and Betsy stilled. The man before her had never indicated that he liked her for more than the woman who fed him sometimes. Perhaps there had been a moment or two over the past two and a half months where his gaze had lingered on her. Maybe an extra smile. Some late-night texting.
Or maybe she’d hallucinated those instances because she’d been crushing on him since his arrival on the ranch.
“Ready for your trip?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for such a stupid conversation topic. She was thirty-four-years-old, and she should be better at flirting with a man. Letting him know that she was interested, so that the ball was in his court.
“Yep,” he said with a slow smile. “How’s the party prep coming?”
She glanced at her phone again. “I have about nine minutes before I have to be back.” She took a step closer to him. “I just thought….” She couldn’t finish, because she had no idea what to say. Or what she’d been thinking.
Foolishness raced through her, and Knox obviously had more experience with relationships than she did, because he said, “I was just heading out. Want to walk back up with me?”
“Yes,” she said, relief raging through her. She flashed him a tight smile and kept her hands clenched into fists in her pockets.
“What did you make for dinner?” he asked, following her out of the shop and turning back to lock it.
“Maple and brown sugar glazed ham,” she said. “We all make our own dishes, and they somehow come together into a meal.”
“Sounds nice,” he said.
“You could stay,” she said, immediately wanting to glue her lips together. She already knew he was going to his parents’ house. They’d already talked about this.
Knox looked at her, a curious edge in his eyes that could barely be seen through the thickening darkness. “I’m going to miss you while I’m gone.” He smiled at her, and the walk back to the house happened with clouds beneath her feet.
“Have fun on your cruise,” she said as she paused with her foot on the bottom step.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her chest in the best possible way. “Yeah, me, my brother, and my parents. Going to be a real riot.”
“Is Logan going?”
“He was,” Knox said. “But then a job came up. So no, not this time.”
Betsy nodded, her smile seemingly stuck in place. “See you when you get back.”
“I hope so,” Knox said, and Betsy seized onto that hope and took it with her back into the homestead.
She’d just hung her coat on the peg when the timer went off. She darted around the corner and pulled her ham out of the oven. She basted the meat and ran a knife along all the slices.
“Dinnertime!” she called, and people got up from the couches and came into the kitchen. While she’d been gone, Rhodes had gone down the road to the cabins near the entrance, and Granny and Gramps shuffled forward to survey the food spread on the counter.
Wheat bread, chicken noodle soup, scalloped potatoes, and ham. And of course, Rhodes’s corn and bacon dip. Betsy had given up the argument that an appetizer wasn’t really part of the meal, because Rhodes didn’t care what she thought—at least about this.
“Hey, Granny,” she said, linking her arm through her grandmother’s.
“There you are, dear,” she said. “I didn’t see you when I got here.”
Betsy’s whole body flushed. I’m going to miss you while I’m gone. “I ran outside to say good-bye to a friend,” she said just as a man moved in front of her.
“Logan,” Betsy said with a healthy dose of surprise in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh,” Georgia said, stepping out from behind the kitchen counter. “Everyone, Logan and I made up. He’s here for dinner.” She beamed at him, and Betsy welcomed him back even as her heart sank all the way to her toes. Maybe all the way into the floor.
They’d made up. She should be happy for her sister—and she was.
But it put her and Knox on fragile ground again. Thankfully, her mother engaged Logan in a conversation, sweeping him away from Betsy so she could allow the smile to slip from her face.
Everyone started serving themselves, and Betsy stood back the way she always did during mealtime. “Want me to get you something, Granny?”
“Soup and ham,” she said. “And that bread, and as much dip as will fit on the rest of the plate.”
Betsy giggled and picked up a plate and a bowl for her grandmother. “It’s no secret what you like,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well, some secrets are worth keeping,” Granny said. “And some aren’t.” She picked up a napkin and the silverware she needed.
Betsy looked at Granny and then focused on ladling some soup into her bowl. “What are you saying?”
“Was that Knox I saw leaving just before you came in?”
“I didn’t come in,” Betsy said, the lie bitter on her tongue. She glanced down the line, but Gramps was behind Granny, and he was still buttering a slice of Jessie’s honey whole wheat bread.
Her eyes met Granny’s again, and the older woman just smiled. “Oh,
okay. I see how it is.” She touched her lips in the universal sign of a secret. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“I appreciate that,” Betsy said, almost under her breath. “It’s just….”
“I know what it is,” Granny said after a few seconds of silence. “Like I said, some secrets are worth keeping, and some aren’t. Maybe this one is, at least for a little while.”
Betsy finished loading the plate with the food her grandmother wanted and took it the table for her. She returned to the line and got herself some food before sitting down. Logan, of all people, sat right beside her and picked up his fork.
“So are you and Knox dating?” he asked, point blank.
“What?” Betsy scoffed though a path of worry burned through her with the speed of a racecar. “No.” She laid her napkin on her lap. “He’s the farrier and I see all the cowboys when they come to the homestead for meals.”
She turned away from him, her heart hammering in her chest. Had he seen her and Knox outside too? Had Knox said something to him? Jessie sat on her other side, and she said, “Hey, Jess. How’s that new software working?” Her sister managed the herd, the pregnancies, and the sale of cattle, and she’d just gotten a new tracking system a few weeks ago.
Jessie answered, but Betsy honestly didn’t hear her. Granny’s words drifted through her mind. Some secrets are worth keeping.
So she’d keep her crush on the gorgeous Knox Locke a secret. No problem. She could do that.
Couldn’t she?
Chapter 2
Knox found it entirely unfair to go from Caribbean warmth to Idaho chill in the same day. His body was having a hard time acclimating and keeping up with the changes, and he held his hands in front of the fire in the blacksmith shop at Quinn Valley Ranch.
He’d been gone since Christmas Eve, and he’d missed the New Year’s celebration too. Honestly, he was fine with all of that. The Quinn’s were great people, but he sometimes got overwhelmed with the sheer number of them.
His mind focused on a particular Quinn he’d like to spend some alone-time with, but now that Logan was back with Georgia, Knox felt Betsy slipping further and further from his reach. Not that he’d ever reached out to her.
He sighed and turned away from the fire. He didn’t have a whole lot to do for Quinn Valley this afternoon, because he’d spent his last working hours before the cruise getting everything done. He’d spent the day at Granite Springs Ranch, but they didn’t even have a smithy, and he needed the one here to complete his jobs at the other ranch.
Behind him, the door opened, and he turned that way to see Newton Matthews enter. “Hey, Knox,” he said, adjusting his hat and pausing just inside the door. “I thought I saw smoke out here.”
“I’m sure you did.” Knox smiled at the other cowboy and crossed the small space to shake his hand. “And it’s about ten below freezing out there.”
“So cold,” Newt said, entering further and closing the door behind him. “I know you just got back, but I’m wondering if you want to step into my place for the poker game tonight.”
Knox’s eyebrows went up. He’d been working at Quinn Valley for about three months now, and because he wasn’t terribly outgoing and loud—and worked in the blacksmith shop alone most of the time—he was still getting to know everyone at the ranch.
He knew Newton from high school, and when Betsy made lunch for everyone, he usually sought out the dark-haired cowboy so he’d have someone he knew to sit by.
“Poker?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s casual,” he said with a shrug. “But we’re supposed to get a replacement if we can’t come, and I just got a date with Parvati.” He grinned like he’d figured out how to achieve world peace instead of getting a date with a woman. Of course, Knox hadn’t exactly been able to ask anyone out in a while either.
He only had one person he wanted to get to know better anyway, and his nose twitched a little with the memory of Betsy punching him in her attempt to knock on Christmas Eve. A smile curved his lips, and he wasn’t sure if it was for her or because Newt had gotten a date with the woman he liked.
“I can do it,” he said.
“Great,” Newt said. “Everyone brings something to eat. It’s casual, like I said. No real money changes hands.”
“Good,” Knox said. “Because I can’t remember the last time I played poker.”
“Probably at scout camp when we were fifteen.” Newt laughed, and Knox joined him.
“Probably.”
“Starts at seven. It’s out in the east stables.” He turned to go. “I’ll tell Clay you’re stepping in for me.”
“Sounds good.” Knox held the door for Newt as he left, and when he turned back to the blacksmith shop, all he could think about was what snack he should bring to poker night with the other cowboys that night.
Clay Martin ran the veterinary care at the ranch, and while Knox didn’t know him well, he’d seen the man eat eight chocolate chip cookies at the Harvest Festival last fall. There was only one bakery in town, and surely Knox could get a bunch of cookies.
He immediately started to worry if cookies were too simple, and he ended up completing his work for the other ranch and zipping into town, dozens of ideas for food coursing through his mind.
Skipping the bakery, he went to the grocery store instead. When his own mouth watered at the sight of the seven-layer dip, he knew he’d found his snack. Two containers of that and three bags of chips later, and he was on his way back to the ranch.
The east stables sat pretty far east on the ranch, and he wondered why the men set the game up out there. Maybe Rhodes didn’t know about it. Newt had said that money didn’t exchange hands, but that didn’t mean the foreman would approve of poker on his property.
Nerves danced through Knox as he pulled up to the stables. Bright, cheery light leaked out from underneath the door, and he could hear people laughing inside. For some reason, his steps slowed.
He’d always felt like the tarnished version of his brother Logan. Where he had bright green eyes, Knox’s were muted. Logan could grow a healthy beard in a week while Knox struggled to even have his look good after a couple of months. Logan had charisma; Knox knew how to hide in the shadows.
The scent of barbecue met his nose, and he suddenly wondered if he’d brought the right food. Why hadn’t Newt told him what to bring?
He reached the door and couldn’t prolong entering unless he was willing to go on home by himself. He didn’t want to do that either, as Logan let his dogs outside and then back in, so they tracked snow and mud all over the kitchen.
Nudging the door with his foot, it swung open easily to reveal a round card table had been set up in the middle of the open area before the stalls took over. A separate table held the food, and a few other people stood there, eating and laughing while a radio warbled country music from a higher shelf.
“Oh, hey,” Clay said, separating from the group and coming over to Knox. “Newton said you’d be taking his place.” He looked down at the seven-layer dip in Knox’s hands. “Oh, stars alive. Flynn is going to love you.” He grinned and took a couple bags of chips from Knox. “Guys, Knox is here. He’s playing for Newton tonight.”
Knox said hello to Flynn Hollister, who took the seven-layer dip and said it was all for him. At least Knox knew he’d earned one friend.
Another cowboy—still dressed in his jeans, boots, hat, and belt buckle—Wyatt Barlow grinned and stepped out of the way so Knox could see the last man.
Except it wasn’t a man at all.
Betsy stood there, stirring something in a Crock pot that wasn’t plugged in anymore. She tucked her gorgeous red-tinted blonde hair behind her ear before she looked up at him. “Hey, Knox.”
He could’ve fallen over with the level of flirtatiousness in her voice. Instead, he simply stared. If anyone else noticed the exchange, they didn’t say anything.
Clay clapped him on the back and said, “We start in five minutes. So everyone get your food, and let
’s get this game going.”
“I hope you boys are ready to lose tonight,” Betsy said without taking her eyes off of Knox. “I’m feeling real lucky.”
The other cowboys laughed, and Knox startled when he realized he’d fallen into a trance. He joined his half-hearted laughter to theirs, loaded up his plate, and took the last seat at the table.
It happened to be directly across from Betsy, and he wondered if he was torturing himself on purpose. She felt so out of his league. Completely off-limits, as she was his boss’s sister and his brother’s girlfriend’s sister.
But, oh, how his heart ricocheted around in his chest at the very sight of her. Tonight, she wore a blouse the color of blueberries, and it went so well with her hair. He rarely saw her wear it down, and as she scraped it together into a ponytail, he mourned the loss of it.
She cracked her knuckles and picked up her barbecue pork sandwich. “All right. Let’s play.” She shuffled the cards like a pro, and that made Knox’s pulse accelerate even more.
He managed to eat while keeping one eye on her while she dealt, all the while wondering how he could be the one to take her back to the homestead when the game ended.
Chapter 3
Betsy contained the excitement at seeing Knox by shuffling extra hard and then practically throwing the cards around the table as she dealt. Knox Locke, sitting right in front of her. It was like God had heard her thoughts and listened to her prayers, and then answered them.
Thank you, Lord, she thought as she finished dealing and picked up her own hand. She was exceptionally skilled at poker, and everyone but Knox knew it. She felt them all watching her, but she pretended like she didn’t.
She moved one card over, and then another one to the front before looking up. “Bets in.” She reached for the bowl of peanut M&Ms in the middle of the table and took a handful for her own betting bowl. Everyone else did too, Knox the slowest and last to figure out that they used the candy to play.