by Liz Isaacson
All she had to do was look at a bowl of macaroni and cheese or a plate of ribs and she’d gain ten pounds. Since Blake had left, Whitney had been eating chips or chocolate and counting them as meals, so she did carry a few extra pounds.
Her mind didn’t seem to be able to settle onto any one thought, and she finally got to her feet. She moved her basket to the top of a filing cabinet, so Michael wouldn’t get irritated when he arrived in the morning.
Whitney herself needed to be here in less than twelve hours, so she checked her pockets for her keys and headed downstairs. She hadn’t parked out front, and she had to walk through the shadows to the back exit.
Her skin caught a chill as she hurried through the frozen section, and by the time she made it to the black, plastic door that led into the warehouse behind the storefront, she was almost running.
The exit lay direction in front of her, and Whitney exploded through it, though the darkness beyond wasn’t much more comforting.
She’d parked right beneath the bright outside light on the building, and relief spread through her as the heavy, metal door slammed behind her. Whatever phantoms that had been chasing her through the store had been sealed inside. She turned back to make sure that door was locked, because if she didn’t, and a robbery happened, she’d never be trusted in the store again. Her siblings already gave her sideways looks for how little she was involved in the family business, but Whitney had never minded.
With the door locked, Whitney turned back to her truck.
A man stood there.
Whitney sucked in a breath and screamed as loud as she could, spilling backward toward the door she’d just checked.
Her eyes didn’t leave the man standing next to her driver’s door, his cowboy hat bathing his face in darkness. He lifted both hands and said, “Whoa, it’s fine. It’s just me.”
Even through her distress and the echoes of the screams, Whitney’s brain connected the dots and “Jeremiah?” came out of her mouth.
“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.” A nervous chuckle came out of his mouth. “You have no idea how long I sat in my truck, trying to decide if I should go on home or wait to talk to you.”
She pressed her palm against her chest and sagged against the door behind her. “Jeremiah,” she said again as if she needed to convince herself that it was him and not someone else.
He hadn’t taken a single step away from her truck, and a healthy distance remained between them. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I….” He closed his mouth and ducked his head in that adorable way he had, and Whitney straightened as a smile touched her mouth. Maybe her first smile in a long time, actually.
“I’ll let you get on home,” he said. “I know you’re busy right now.”
“How do you know I’m busy right now?” She took a step closer to him, then another one. It wasn’t particularly cold outside, but she fought against a shiver.
“Uh, maybe I spend too much time on social media.” He raised his head and looked right at her.
A thrill shot through her bloodstream with the sight of those beautiful, intense, dark eyes holding onto hers. “You’re right. I’m shooting a lot right now.”
“So if I maybe called during the day, it would be better?”
“Did you circle the store and pull behind my truck to wait for me to ask me when you could call?” Whitney teased, glad when the ghost of a smile touched his lips. She’d never had the privilege of kissing that mouth, but oh, she wanted to.
Thank goodness it was dark and the light there threw shadows around, because her face heated to a dangerous level.
“You still stockin’ shelves here in the morning?”
“I do the produce section,” she said, stopping just out of reach from Jeremiah. Their whole relationship had been like that. He was always just out of her reach.
But closer than he’s been in a while, she thought.
“I’ve told you that so many times,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s what I meant,” he said. “What time do you finish filling up the produce section?”
“Before we open,” she said. “Daddy wants everything pristine for the very first customer. Michael has adopted that stance.” With only a couple of other grocery stores in town, Wilde & Organic didn’t have a lot of competition, but her family wanted to provide the best experience. “I usually have to work in the back a little bit before I’m really done.”
“So ten-thirty?”
“Closer to eleven before I leave here.”
Jeremiah leaned against her truck like he wasn’t going anywhere. “Do you always come tearing out the back door like the devil himself is chasing you?”
Whitney heard all the flirtation in his voice, and if she could see those eyes more clearly, they’d be sparkling like pure diamonds. “Yes,” she said simply.
“Mm hm,” Jeremiah said. “Well, maybe I’ll call tomorrow then.” He straightened and held her gaze for one more moment before circling toward the hood of her truck.
“Maybe?” she asked when he’d reached the far corner. She could barely see the light glinting off the chrome on his big, black truck. It seemed to melt right into the night, and Whitney promised herself in that moment that she’d never come to the store after dark and stay alone again.
Jeremiah looked over his shoulder at her. “You have my number, too, you know.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll use it tomorrow then.”
He grinned, tipped his hat, and continued to his truck. It purred as he started it, and he backed away from her vehicle. He didn’t leave though, and Whitney hurried to get behind her own steering wheel and get the engine turned over.
She preceded him out of the parking lot, warmth moving through her like her momma had just pulled her favorite blanket out of the dryer and draped it over her shoulders.
“Please let him call tomorrow,” she whispered to the sleepy town before her. She tilted her head back and added, “Please, Dear God. Give him the courage to me call tomorrow.”
And if the Good Lord could do that, then Whitney would somehow find the strength to answer the phone when Jeremiah called.
Chapter Three
Jeremiah muttered to himself the entire way back to Seven Sons Ranch. There were plenty of names in there, like, “idiot,” and “stalker,” to name a few. He’d never tell anyone what he’d just done, as he could still hear the terror in Whitney’s scream when she’d turned around and found him standing between her and her truck.
Frustration built inside him, the same way it had while he’d loaded his recyclable bags into the backseat. Truth be told, he was irritated too. At himself. At her. At the world. At God.
And he hadn’t been able to drive away. He’d tried to talk himself out of waiting at least a dozen times before she’d come racing out the backdoor. She’d stopped as suddenly as she’d appeared, and by the time she’d checked the lock on the door, Jeremiah had slid from his truck and rounded hers.
“I didn’t even know she had a truck,” he said to himself as he turned off the main highway. Of course, he hadn’t spoken to the woman in almost four months, so there was probably a lot he didn’t know.
“Like why she cut you out of her life,” he said. “And then sort of talked to you in the store, and then flirted with you in the parking lot.”
At least Jeremiah had thought Whitney had been flirting with him. He hadn’t been in the dating pool for a while. In fact, he didn’t even own a pair of swimming trunks to get near the pool.
Whitney had been the only woman he’d even remotely felt anything for in years, and her disappearance from his life had set him all the way back to the day he’d been left at the altar. His thoughts had been circling so many damaging thoughts, and the stories he told himself about who he was and what he could be for someone else had turned dangerous.
He’d started driving to town to meet with Tug Wagstaff, a counselor who’d helped Jeremiah start to change some of his damaging thought patterns.
Broken ran through his mind as he eased his truck past Wyatt’s. At least his brother was home tonight. He had never said where he’d disappeared to earlier this year, and as far as Jeremiah knew, Wyatt wasn’t dating anyone.
And Jeremiah didn’t feel as broken as he had previously. He still wasn’t sure God cared all that much about him, but he and Tug didn’t base his mental health on his faith, something Jeremiah was actually grateful for.
He still went to church with his brothers and their wives—those that had them—but Jeremiah simply wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel the calming influence of the Lord in his life again.
Wyatt opened the garage door leading into the house before Jeremiah had even come out of the house. “There you are. I was just about to call the police.”
“You haven’t even called me,” Jeremiah said, grabbing his phone and glancing at it. Nope. No missed calls.
He wondered what his pulse would do if the screen lit up and Whitney’s name and picture sat there. He put the thoughts away, because Dr. Wagstaff had encourage him not to live inside of if’s.
It was good advice for Jeremiah, because then he wouldn’t have to think about what might happen if he allowed another woman into his life, into his heart, into his life. Onto his ranch, which had become Jeremiah’s sanctuary from the rest of the world.
“I was about to,” Wyatt said. “Liam called and said he’s making toasted marshmallow ice cream, and we should head next door whenever we want.”
“Help me with the groceries,” Jeremiah said. “And we’ll go.” He opened the back door and started handing his brother a couple of bags. Together, they took everything inside, and Jeremiah automatically looked for Penny to come greet him.
The cattle dog didn’t. Rhett brought her out to the ranch most days, but she didn’t live here anymore, and Jeremiah missed her. He’d known he missed the dog for months now, but he’d been so busy doing other things with his time and mental energy that he hadn’t done anything about it.
“I’m going to head into town and get a dog tomorrow,” Jeremiah said. “You want to come?”
“You want a dog tomorrow?”
“I think it’s time.” Jeremiah pulled out the milk he’d bought.
“Well, go to the animal shelter if you want. Boone’ll have something for you. But if you want, there’s a cowboy out at Three Rivers who has blue heeler puppies. He might have one or two left.”
“A blue heeler?” Jeremiah asked. “Don’t know anything about them.”
“They’re cattle dogs,” Wyatt said. “Love to run. Need to be working.”
“We do plenty of that here.”
“Yep. I’ll talk to Bennett if you want. I don’t know how much he’s charging.”
“Yeah, I might not be able to afford it,” Jeremiah joked, shaking his head. “Yeah, talk to him.”
“I’ll call him right now.” Wyatt probably just didn’t want to help put away the groceries. He got annoyed when Jeremiah moved where he put the pudding mix or when he put the cucumbers in the bottom drawer after Wyatt had put them in the top one. So, fair enough. Jeremiah liked things in a certain place, and he did do ninety-nine percent of the cooking in the homestead.
Wyatt stepped away while Jeremiah continued unpacking produce and meat.
“Heya, Bennett,” Wyatt said. “My brother wants one of your pups. Do you have any left?”
Jeremiah kept one ear on the conversation as Wyatt said, “A boy and a girl. I’ll ask him.”
“Both,” Jeremiah said without thinking.
“You want them both?” The surprise on Wyatt’s face wasn’t hard to find.
“Yes,” Jeremiah said. “If he’ll let me have both of them, I’ll take them.”
Wyatt went back to Bennett, and only two minutes later, he said, “Great, I’ll bring you the money tomorrow. When can he pick them up?” He gave Jeremiah a thumbs up. “End of the month. Right. Thanks, Ben.”
He hung up and said. “You got ‘em both.” He grinned at his brother. “Look at you, getting two dogs.” Wyatt chuckled and cocked his head. “What happened in town?”
“Nothing,” Jeremiah said quickly. “I went grocery shopping.”
Wyatt picked up a container of organic chicken stock Jeremiah bought from the butcher. It really was so much better than anything put in a can. “Wilde & Organic. Interesting.”
“I shop there every week,” Jeremiah said, practically ripping the box of chicken stock from Wyatt’s hands.
“Did you see anyone there tonight?”
“It was late,” he said. “I was practically the only one in the store.”
“I see.”
Jeremiah sucked in everything he wanted to say. He didn’t want to argue with Wyatt, and he didn’t want to extend the conversation. “Skyler’s leaving Amarillo about ten on Wednesday,” he said, clearly changing the topic.
“Which means it’ll be closer to noon,” Wyatt said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, probably.” Even Jeremiah could laugh about his younger brother’s tardiness. “But I’m pretty sure he said he had to be out of his apartment by ten.”
“Oh, he’ll charm the check-out student and maybe give her fifty bucks and then start throwing everything he owns in boxes.”
The two of them laughed heartily after that, and Jeremiah finished putting everything away. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet, but it was already late, and he went with Wyatt over to the Shining Star Ranch, where Liam lived with Callie now.
The scent of fiery, toasty marshmallows filled the house, and Jeremiah took a deep breath as he walked through the front door. “We’re here,” Wyatt called, and Jeremiah needed to remember to do that.
He loved Callie and Liam, but he didn’t need to walk in on them making out again. The first time had been enough, and he’d done it a few more times since.
“In the kitchen,” Liam called, and Wyatt and Jeremiah walked past the office and formal living room at the front of the house.
Happiness spread through Jeremiah when he arrived in the kitchen. The whole house had been remodeled only a few months ago, and Jeremiah had done a lot of the work. Rather, he’d overseen the work, which was just as hard as lifting a hammer.
The island in the kitchen was covered with treats, from shredded coconut to hot fudge to graham cracker crumbles. Liam really was a genius with desserts. He didn’t cook much, but he made a killer last course.
“I love you,” Jeremiah said.
“Rough day?” Callie stepped next to him, and he put his arm around her easily.
“A little,” he said, because he was really trying to be truthful about how he felt. Another tactic from his therapist. He was also supposed to record how many hours he slept each night, and it was depressing to see the low numbers. “Just tired.”
She leaned into and stepped away. Jeremiah didn’t blame her—she was married to his brother, after all. He harbored absolutely zero romantic feelings toward the woman, and he never had. But she had been his first friend in Three Rivers, and they’d had a special friendship.
But he would never do anything to hurt one of his brothers, or Callie. So if she had to be a little more distant than she’d been in the past, he could shoulder it.
He was tired, and he didn’t feel like talking, so gratitude streamed through him as Wyatt started up a story about something one of the Ackerman kids had done out at Three Rivers Ranch that day. Jeremiah could laugh as he ate a delicious bowl of ice cream that tasted just like the s’mores he’d enjoyed as a kid.
By the time he got home, he was ready for the solace of the master suite in the homestead. It was a huge room—way more room than one man needed. But Jeremiah never felt like the room was too big for him.
He had a desk in the corner where he kept his crossword puzzles and other books he might read when he woke early in the morning. He didn’t allow a scrap of ranch business in his bedroom, as he had an office out in the stables.
Recently, he’d brought in a yoga mat so instead of lying in
bed, wishing he could go back to sleep, or solving another puzzle, he could meditate. At first, he’d had no idea what to do. He didn’t know what to think about, and even a minute had felt like an hour.
He was getting better and better at it, and he’d reported to Dr. Wagstaff last week that he’d made it to thirty minutes per day for his meditation. He wasn’t as tired as he used to be, he knew that. He wasn’t as broken, no matter what Wyatt said.
Dr. Wagstaff said he wasn’t broken at all, but Jeremiah still had his doubts. As he laid down and immediately started to doze off, he supposed he’d find out tomorrow…if he could work up the gumption to call Whitney Wilde.
Chapter Four
Whitney flew through her morning produce replenishment, mostly to prove to Michael and Patsy that she could come in a few minutes late and it wasn’t a national event. She didn’t clock in and out like a normal employee, and she didn’t need to be glared at by her brother, who was twelve years older than her, because she was fifteen minutes late.
Patsy had given her a look and said, “If you were Dalton….”
“Well, I’m not,” Whitney said as she pulled on her gloves. She didn’t need her sister to treat her like she was a fifteen-year-old. Besides, Dalton was a good kid. He got good grades and he was kind. So what if he didn’t want to work from dawn until dusk? Who did?
Maybe Michael.
Whitney smiled at her own internal joke. She also finished laying out the organic eggplants with lightning fast precision, quickly moving onto the apples that had just come in from Mountainland Fruit Farms.
She finished right on time, despite being a few minutes late, and she hurried through her paperwork in the back room that had held demons last night. She left Wilde & Organic by ten-forty-five, and eleven came and went while she drove through a coffee shack to get her energy for the day.
With a shoot at six, Whitney had the day to edit the senior from earlier that week and maybe catch a nap.