Home on the Ranch

by Tanya Michaels

  Maybe one day, after enough time had passed, she and Jace could rebuild their friendship. In the meantime, it would have to be enough that Addie knew she had a father who loved her. And whatever hope Layla had held that he might love her, too? She would work hard to forget it.

  Moving on was the reasonable, adult thing to do, and Addie should have at least one sensible parent.

  * * *

  There’d been a time when the tantalizing smell of barbecue would have made Jace’s stomach growl loud enough for the cooks in the kitchen to hear. But as he stood in the carryout line of the Smoky Pig, all he wanted was to get the order and get to the solitude of his truck. He might scream if one more smiling person asked, “Hey, how’s it going?”

  So much for thinking that getting out of the store for a few minutes would improve his mood. Tonight was a special after-hours inventory, and Grayson’s girlfriend had joined them to help. Jace had volunteered to pick up dinner for the three of them as an excuse to get away from the happy couple. He liked Hadley just fine, but right now, watching their shared glances and casual touches made him want to put a fist through the wall.

  I wanted that. He’d shot for the same kind of happiness—and he’d been shot down.

  People in Cupid’s Bow thought of Jace as a perpetual bachelor, but when he’d found the person he could see himself sharing his life with, she’d bolted. Layla could have asked for more time to think it over; she could have said no, it’s too soon, ask again in three months. Or six. Instead, she’d yelled at him, told him he wasn’t romantic and accused him of not caring about what was best for Addie.

  Then she’d called him earlier this week to tell him she was leaving town even sooner than originally discussed. Their final conversation had held all the warmth and intimacy of making an appointment at the dentist’s office. Had he been mistaken all along about his feelings for her? Maybe his judgment had been clouded by the memory of the fearless, free-spirited girl he’d once known. People changed. He admired Layla, but she was skittish and rigid now.

  He sent a silent, wistful apology to seventeen-year-old Layla Dempsey. It seemed he finally loved her back, but he was nearly a decade too late.

  * * *

  “I’ve got her,” Martin offered as Layla reached for her sleeping daughter. “It’s been weeks since I tucked her in. Let me carry her to bed while I can still lift her. These old bones aren’t getting any younger, and she’s growing.”

  “Like a weed,” Layla agreed ruefully. Addie had left the house today in another pair of pants that looked like they’d suddenly shrunk two inches. Hopefully, people at school had mistaken them for capris. “Thanks, Dad.”

  As Martin took his snoring granddaughter down the hall, Layla turned off the television. This was the third night in a row Addie had fallen asleep while watching Twister. She found the action-packed “flying cow movie” paradoxically soothing. Layla, on the other hand, could barely get through it without crying. And she was afraid her dad had noticed.

  As owner of the modest brick duplex, Martin was technically Layla’s landlord and neighbor. He had his own adjacent residence, but he’d been spending almost all his time at Layla’s since her return. He said it was because he’d missed Addie so much and wanted to hear about her adventures at school, but Layla hadn’t missed her father’s concerned glances. He thought she was suffering from a broken heart.

  He’s right. Not that it mattered. Layla had gotten over Jace Trent before, and she could damn well do it again.

  Moments later, her dad padded back into the room. “How about I make us some hot cocoa?”

  She grinned. “Like when I was a little girl.”

  “I’m glad you remember. Truth is, I was such a crappy dad, I wasn’t sure how many good memories you had of me.”

  “Daddy, we do not need to go through this again. I don’t know how Addie and I would have survived without your help the first few years. Whatever came before that, I forgave you a long time ago.”

  “Which is more than I deserve,” her father said heavily, “but forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting. All the mistakes I made as a dad are still there somewhere, deep down, and the mistakes I made as a husband. I worry sometimes... You don’t date much.”

  “I’m a single mother and a small business owner.”

  “I know, honey. But it can’t be easy to commit when your own parents’ marriage was such a train wreck. I wasn’t sorry things with that Kyle fellow never got serious, but if there comes a day when a man wants to marry you, I—”

  The house was so quiet that her sob echoed all around them. She clapped a hand over her mouth as if she could somehow take it back.

  “Layla? What is it?”

  “Nothing. I...” Another sob. And another.

  Dammit, she’d tried so hard to stifle these unproductive feelings. There were better ways to spend her time than crying over a guy who’d hurt her and callously refused to see her point of view. But that didn’t stop the hot tears dripping off her cheeks and chin.

  Her father handed her a tissue box and left the room. Moments later, he returned with a mug of hot chocolate, no doubt half full of marshmallows. His cocoa-to-mallow ratio had always been a little skewed.

  She managed a watery smile. “Thanks. I’m better now.”

  “Was it something I said? Or was it Jace Trent?”

  “Both?” She blew across the surface of steamy marshmallow froth. “He, uh, kind of proposed before I came back to Austin. But the timing was terrible and we’ve never even discussed the future—”

  “Some might assume raising a child together implies a future.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t. If I get married, I want it to be because someone loves me.” That stupid proposal. Jace hadn’t once claimed to love her. She wasn’t sure it was even possible to love someone you were so disdainful of—every time she needed to take a beat and distance herself from a situation, he basically called her a coward. Love meant respecting your partner’s needs and personality, even if it was different from yours.

  Oh, hell.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Did loving Jace mean that she should have shown more respect for his personality? Was it fair for her to criticize his tendency for showmanship and surprises when she’d so often benefited from them?

  She recalled Addie’s glowing expression when he’d first shown up with his handmade tornado machine. And what about the afternoon he’d abruptly announced to her family that he was Addie’s father? It hadn’t been his place to share that news. Yet, he’d done it out of concern for her, and it had been a welcome resolution to a situation so unpleasant she’d felt as if she were suffocating.

  “Why do you think he proposed?” her father asked gently. “Just for Addie’s sake?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But whatever his motivations, it was awful. Jace likes bold gestures. Sometimes, they’re nice, but other times they backfire. And if I always have to point those backfires out to him, I’m the bad guy.” He would always be the one telling Addie yes, she could have one more story or an additional dessert or watch a movie Layla vetoed, which relegated her to disciplinarian. Both her daughter and her lover would come to resent her.

  “You said yourself some of the gestures are nice,” her father pointed out. “Maybe the two of you can reach compromises over time.”

  “That’s what I thought! But he didn’t give me time.” No, he’d wanted to make a splashy statement in front of his family to prove he could be like his big brothers. “The thing is, Dad, Jace lives his life based on impulse. He blurts things out, he shows up out of the blue, he springs surprises on people. Whoever he does marry, she’s in for a lifetime of spontaneous celebrations and spur-of-the-moment romantic escapes. But what about when his impulse is to walk away? What about those day-to-day moments that aren’t fun? Is he going to stick by a woman he doesn’t understand, or get bored and wander off?”
>
  Her dad looked sheepish.

  “I’m not only worried because you left mom. It’s also because I know Jace. He doesn’t have a track record of sticking with things. What if he can’t change?”

  “Life doesn’t come with guarantees, honey. But ask yourself this—if he changed too much, would he still be the man you love? Nobody is perfect. If you can learn to accept occasional flaws, though, you might find more happiness than you thought possible.”

  * * *

  “GC Tack and Supply, Jace speaking.”

  “Just the man I was lookin’ for,” a female voice drawled. “This is Mona, callin’ to let you know your shipment of calendars is printed and ready to pick up.”

  Jace’s jaw clenched. Calendars. Layla. Pain flooded him. Every day, he woke up somewhat numb, convinced he was making progress in getting over her. And every single day, there was something that reminded him he was a liar. “Great. I’ll run over during lunch today and pick them up.” Might as well—with his recent lack of appetite, it wasn’t as if he actually needed a lunch break.

  A few minutes after twelve, he parked in the alley behind Mona’s store to load up his cargo. He and Grayson had committed to trying to sell half a dozen boxes. Frankly, Jace would rather never think about the calendars again—or about the sensual afternoon he and Layla had spent together when he’d hijacked his business partner’s scheduled photo shoot—but these were to help Chris. Jace still cared about his friend and knew the sales could make a big difference for Chris and Suzanne.

  “Thanks, Mona.”

  Her grin was openly appreciative. “Thank you. And all the other guys, too. These calendars are fantastic. I know Jarrett and Hugh are married, and Grayson is taken, but after women get a load of these pictures? You and Quincy will have ladies linin’ up at your doors to date you.”

  Yippee.

  Bad attitude, Trent. You should want to date again. Right. He just had to remember the goal—find someone who appreciated him. How hard could that be?

  When he got back to the store, Hadley had dropped by with lunch for Grayson. The two of them were talking in low voices in the management office. He could hear Grayson’s low, mischievous tone and Hadley’s occasional giggles through the wall. He hated to interrupt, but he needed a place to put the boxes. Leaving things lying around for customers to randomly trip over was, generally speaking, a bad idea.

  Hadley caught sight of him and did an excited double take at the boxes. “Are those the calendars? Oooh!” She reached to grab a pair of scissors from Grayson’s desk. “I cannot wait to see these.”

  Grayson shot a questioning glance at Jace. “Did they turn out okay? Do I look stupid? Am I going to regret this?”

  “Honestly? I haven’t seen them yet,” Jace said. “But Layla is pretty good at her job, so...” Even saying her name stung. He hated this. When was it going to get better?

  Hadley had ripped into a box and pulled out the top copy. “Ohmigosh. Y’all look like real models. I mean, these pictures are...” She flipped through the calendar, stopping a couple of pages in. “Would it be wrong to blow this up into a giant poster for my house?”

  Grayson laughed. “What do you need the poster for when you can have the real-life version any time you want?”

  Jace slipped out of the office, taking one of the calendars with him. Go ahead and look. It wasn’t as if Layla was in the pictures. He should just get this over with so he didn’t react when customers asked questions, fanned through the images or even good-naturedly ribbed him about his participation. The cover was a picture of a few shirts draped over a fence on a sunny day; Jace’s hat topped the fence post. He remembered that day at the Twisted R. It had been right after Layla said they shouldn’t kiss again, yet she hadn’t been able to keep from blushing every time she’d looked in his direction.

  The first photo was a group shot. She’d done a good job. Objectively speaking, they looked like an attractive bunch of guys without it being too cheesy or risqué. They looked like exactly what they were—Texas cowboys with their shirts off, not male strippers. Then there were individual shots, black-and-white portraits interspersed with color. His black-and-white photo was a profile shot, and it was artistic, the kind of thing his parents could show their friends with pride. When he reached the other picture of himself, he stopped cold, struck by the image. It was like looking at a stranger who wore his face.

  The man in the photo was staring straight into the camera, and his grin was startling. It was so personal. Jace hadn’t been smiling for the camera, he’d been smiling at her. And he knew in his gut, he hadn’t smiled like that since the night she’d turned down his proposal. He’d once jokingly thought about going to the top of the Cupid’s Bow water tower and announcing to the entire town how he felt about Layla Dempsey. When people started buying copies of this calendar, he wouldn’t have to—they’d all know just from his expression.

  You love her.

  So what was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  Even with the calendar project that had put her behind a camera, Layla had missed working in her studio while she was away. She loved it here. It wasn’t just where she performed her job; it was physical proof of her hard-won professional success. Except, on this particular Friday, the studio was also the site of engagement photos for a happy couple. There had been a split second during their session when Layla had ever-so-briefly fantasized about bashing the next person who said “love you more” with a tripod.

  Thank goodness they’d been her last appointment of the day. She was too cranky to do her job well. Not because you miss Jace! You’re cranky because you didn’t get enough sleep. Chris has called her last night, calendar in hand. He’d been both touched by everyone’s efforts on his behalf and amused by his friends’ attempts at modeling. “Think any of them will remember me when they all go off and become famous?” he’d teased.

  After she’d hung up with her grateful brother, she’d pulled up the calendar proofs on her laptop. Even knowing it was a bad idea, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d stared long and hard at the pictures of Jace as if she could use his image to practice what she wanted to say next time she saw him in person.

  I’m sorry. I love you. You’re a self-centered dummy who should have more empathy for how I felt.

  I miss you so much.

  The studio phone rang, and Layla dropped into her desk chair to answer, grateful for the distraction even though she should have let the machine get it. She was headed out any minute for afternoon carpool at the elementary school. Checking the lone-star clock that hung over the reception area, she rattled off her usual greeting automatically, ending with, “How may I help you?”

  “Knock-knock.”

  She almost dropped the phone. “Jace?”

  “I told you once that I’d learn some knock-knock jokes for you, remember?”

  “I... What are you talking about?” Her mind couldn’t process that he had called her. On her business line, no less. He had her cell number.

  “I want to start over.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” She rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry—Maybe it’s just because I didn’t get much sleep, but I’m having a little trouble following this conversation.”

  “No, I mean, I want us to start over. I miss you, Layla. So much it hurts.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Me, too. She tried to say the words, but it was hard to get them past the lump of emotion in her throat.

  “Opening with the knock-knock joke was a lame idea,” he said, “but it would have worked better if you’d responded, Who’s there? Still, I told you once that I’d learn some for you, and that’s my point. I can learn, beautiful. The old Jace would have stormed up to your house and announced his feelings for the entire neighborhood to hear, but I wanted to show restraint. I didn’t ambush you, didn’t call your personal number. If you want to tak
e it slow, or if you don’t want to see me...” He stumbled a bit over that, but regained his composure. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I can’t respect your wishes. I’ll work on it, Layla. I—”

  “I love you,” she blurted. “Please don’t change too much, because I love you. I’ve been trying not to, trying to move past it, but—”

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” His laugh was rusty. “I tried, too. It’s freaking impossible.”

  In what was beginning to feel like a daily occurrence, her face was once again damp with tears. But for the first time since she’d left Cupid’s Bow, they were happy tears. She sniffed. “I’m so glad you called. I was already trying to figure out what to say to you, and—”

  “Really?”

  “I practiced with your picture. How’s that for lame?”

  “I love you, too.”

  She rocked back in the chair, overcome with joy. Her dad had been right—if you wanted the rewards, you had to be willing to take the risks. Jace was more than worth it. They might not always agree on everything, but she didn’t have one single doubt in her mind that she loved him. The rest of it, they could work on together. “I miss you. What’s your weekend like? It’s kind of a long drive, but maybe—”

  Click.

  “Jace? You still there?” When there was no answer, she glanced at the digital readout on her receiver. Call Ended.

  There was a chime as the door of her studio opened, and she was about to announce that they were closed when Jace strode inside.

  “Knock-knock,” he said hoarsely. He was unshaven and he’d lost about ten pounds and no man on the planet had ever looked better.