Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  Then, Daddy leans down and kisses her cheek. He whispers, “I’ll see you when I get to where I’m going, Momma.”

  “Are we ready to begin, Mr. Lancaster?” the funeral director asks Pop.

  A few minutes later, we are ushered out into the sanctuary with the others.

  After a beautiful service filled with uplifting music and the town reminiscing about how Gram helped and served her community, people filing up one by one to tell stories of how she touched them in some profound way, we make our way to the cemetery where one last hymnal is sung and one last prayer is prayed. Then, she is lowered to her final resting place, and everyone starts to disperse.

  I stay seated in the front row, and people start to mingle and offer condolences to the family. Several ladies head home to grab their prepared food, so they can beat us back to the ranch and set things up for the wake. As is customary, we will receive friends and family and every type of casserole known to man for the rest of the afternoon.

  “It’s what we do when people are hurting, and we have no idea what to say. We cook, and we feed them. It’s how we take care of each other and show our love in times of loss,” Dallas explains as my eyes grow bigger with each foil-wrapped porcelain dish that walks in the door.

  I watch as Aunt Doreen tries to stuff another pie into the refrigerator.

  “There’s a lot of love in there,” I muse.

  “Yep, that was Gram,” she agrees.

  I feel little arms wrap around my legs and look down to see Beau staring up at me.

  “You wanna play catch with me?” he asks sweetly.

  “No, Beau, Miss Sophie has to stay inside with her guests,” Dallas tells him as she tries to untangle us.

  “But everybody is loud in here,” he protests.

  “It is kind of loud,” I agree.

  I bend down on one knee, so I’m face-to-face with him. “You know what? I’d love to play catch with you. Can I play in my dress, or do I need to go change?”

  “You can play in your dress. The girls at school do it all the time.”

  “Well, okay. If they can do it, so can I.” I stand and take him by his hand.

  “Sophie, you don’t have to,” Dallas starts.

  “I know, but I want to, and I think Gram would have wanted to, too, if she were here right now.”

  She nods, and we head outside. She grabs a baseball and a couple of mitts from the back of the truck. Then, the three of us stand out in the driveway, away from the parked cars, and start playing catch.

  I keep pretending that every toss Beau sends my way is so fast that it actually hurts my gloved hand to catch it. I drop a few on purpose, and I miss a few. Beau giggles and runs after each attempt I make to throw it back at him while Dallas “coaches” me from the sideline.

  I watch as he trots after a runaway ball, and I think to myself, Gram would definitely be smiling at us playing catch at her wake.

  Braxton

  “Who is that?”

  I follow Myer’s line of sight to where Dallas and Sophie are tossing a baseball around with Dallas’s son, Beau.

  “That’s Sophia Lancaster,” I inform him as I twist off the top to the cold beer in my hand.

  Walker thought a wake was a good occasion to bring by a tub of iced-down beers and set up lawn chairs out by the barn. Which is where he, Silas, our buddy Myer, Payne—Dallas’s brother—and I are currently hiding out from the crowd.

  “No way. That is not the Sophia Lancaster I remember at all.”

  “Me neither,” Payne adds.

  “It’s her,” I confirm.

  “Damn, she grew up just right. Is she single?” Myer asks.

  I shrug. “She’s not wearing a ring, and I haven’t heard her mention a man. Not that I’ve been paying too much attention to anything she has to say.”

  “Why?” Myer turns his attention to me.

  “Not interested, I guess.”

  He turns back to watch just as Sophie misses an easy catch and starts running after the ball in those ridiculous heels of hers while Beau shrieks with laughter.

  “She could probably read me my rights, and I’d hang on every word,” he declares as he tracks her every move.

  “Stop ogling her like some creep,” I order as I chuck the bottle top at his head.

  “Ouch.” He reaches up and rubs his forehead but doesn’t take his eyes off Sophie’s ass as she retrieves the ball and jogs back to Beau. “There’s nothing wrong with looking.” He brushes off my reprimand.

  “Why do you care anyway? You got it for your sister?”

  I look up, and Payne is wagging his eyebrows at me.

  “First of all, she is not my sister, and secondly, Jefferson would rip my and either one of your dumbasses’ balls off if we so much as laid a finger on her.”

  “She’s what, thirty-one, thirty-two? It’s not like she’s a sixteen-year-old whose virginity he needs to protect.”

  I cut my eyes back to Payne. “You want to be the one to tell him that?”

  He grins. “Hell no.”

  “That’s what I thought. Besides, it might come in a pretty package, but that chick is one hundred percent high-maintenance headache. No, thank you.”

  Myer looks back at me.

  “Pretty? Son, that woman”—Walker points in her direction just as she reaches down again to snatch up the ball, her firm breasts peeking from the top of the plunging neckline of her dress—“is sexy as hell and would be worth every bit of trouble.”

  “I said, stop ogling her,” I demand with a little more force this time.

  He throws his hands in the air. “Yes, sir. Eyes off your girl. Got it.”

  “She’s not my girl,” I growl.

  Walker and Payne burst into laughter just as Dallas gallops up to our group.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks.

  “Oh, we’re just ribbing Braxton here over his fascination with—”

  “Nothing,” I cut Payne off with a hard look, which starts the laughter back up.

  Dallas turns to me with a suspicious look.

  “We’re just making fun of Sophie trying to play ball in a dress and heels, is all.”

  She glances back toward her son and her friend and smiles. “Yeah, I guess it does look ridiculous, but isn’t she sweet to play with him and get him out of that house full of somber adults?”

  “I guess.”

  She looks up at me. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

  “I don’t really have an opinion of her either way, to tell you the truth.”

  Walker coughs.

  She cuts her eyes to him and then quickly back to me. “You know, I never considered you a snob before, Braxton Young.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You had your mind made up about her before she ever got off that plane. She walked onto this ranch with her head held high, and yes, maybe her defenses were up, but damn, she was an army of one, facing down a whole troop of people she barely remembered or didn’t know at all. I’d think you would be a little more compassionate.”

  Her comment hits its mark, and she knows it because she gives me a victorious purse of her lips.

  Then, she pulls up one of the chairs and parks herself next to Myer.

  “Hey,” he says as he smiles at her and offers her a frosty bottle from the tub.

  She nods, and he pops the top off before handing it to her. She accepts, oblivious to his attention.

  We all sit in the sun and watch as Sophie completely wears Beau out—or he wears her out.

  He comes and hops up on Payne’s lap before falling sound asleep.

  Sophie timidly walks over and joins us.

  “Hey, guys,” she says, and Walker opens another lawn chair for her.

  Myer stands, leans in, and offers her his hand. “Hey, Sophie. Remember me?”

  She wrinkles her forehead in concentration and tries to place him.

  “Myer Wilson.” He quickly lets her off the hook.

  Her eyes widen i
n surprise and then light up. “Myer? Oh my goodness. How are you?”

  She lets go of his hand and wraps her arms around his neck. He hesitates for just a second as his eyes come to me, and then he hugs her right back.

  “I’m good. How about you?” he asks as she lets him go and looks up at him.

  “I’m shocked; that’s how I am. You’re a man now.”

  He flushes slightly at her announcement. “Yep.”

  “I mean, of course you’re a man now. I just … it’s strange. I have all these memories, and in them, everyone is stuck at twelve years old. It’s startling to see how much everyone has changed.”

  He smiles at her. “I bet it is. We all grew up and changed together, so we didn’t really notice. However, we’ve all definitely noticed how well you grew up.”

  She blushes at his statement.

  “I mean, that you’ve grown up,” he sputters.

  Her red deepens.

  “You know what I mean, right?” He looks around to us for help.

  “I do,” she murmurs.

  I find that I’m not enjoying this little exchange in the least. So, I clear my throat.

  “You want a beer?” I ask her.

  “I’m not a fan of beer,” she replies.

  Walker fake gasps.

  She grins at him. “Got any more moonshine?”

  He hops up to his feet. “Now, there’s a girl after my own heart,” he says as he heads over to the cooler on his tailgate and grabs a jar.

  A few hours later, the driveway is empty as everyone packs up and starts making their way back home.

  “Thank you, Soph,” Dallas says as she wraps her in a hug. “I think you’re officially his new favorite person.”

  “He’s pretty high up on my list too. Hopefully, he’ll sleep well for you tonight,” she replies.

  “Speaking of which, I’d better get him home and in his pajamas.”

  “I’ll load him in the truck.” Payne stands and starts walking with his nephew in his arms.

  “You want me to drive you guys home?” Myer offers.

  “Why?” Dallas asks him.

  “I haven’t had anything to drink.” He shrugs.

  “Um, I only had one beer, but I guess so,” she replies, puzzled.

  “You can never be too careful. Payne can follow us in my truck,” he says as he gets to his feet and rushes to open the passenger door for her.

  Dallas waves as she hops in. Myer scurries over to the driver’s side, and they drive away.

  “Looks like I have to go too,” Payne says as he grabs Myer’s keys and follows.

  Sophie looks over at me with her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I thought Payne lived beside Dallas and his parents?” she asks.

  “He does.”

  “Then, why didn’t he drive them home?”

  I chuckle. “I guess because he had a beer. Safer to let Myer drive them.”

  “But he’s okay to drive Myer’s truck?”

  “It appears so.”

  She looks at me as it dawns on her. “Oh. Ohhh. Does Dallas know?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  I ignore her look as I start folding chairs and toss them into the barn. She grabs the one she was sitting in and folds it up before following me.

  She gets the heel of her shoe caught in a hole near the door and starts to buckle, and I reach out and grab her around the waist just as she begins to fold.

  “Whoa,” I say as I take her weight into my arms and steady her.

  She lets out a little cry of pain as her ankle gives.

  I quickly pick her up off her feet to keep her from twisting it further, and she wraps her arms around my neck as I take her off-balance.

  She buries her face into me, and her hot breath slides down my neck, sending a shiver up my spine.

  I hold her against me for a couple of beats, and then I rasp out, “You okay?”

  She nods her head while still hiding her face.

  “You sure?”

  She looks up. “Just embarrassed,” she admits.

  “That’s why you shouldn’t be wearing those shoes out here. They might be sexy as hell, but you’ll break your neck.”

  She sternly looks at me. “I’ll have you know, I can run down ten flights of stairs and dodge traffic in these shoes without so much as stubbing my toe. It’s the moonshine.” She sticks her bottom lip out at me in defiance.

  “You’re probably right. Not the ridiculous shoes. It’s the liquor to blame.” I instinctively tighten my grip on her and focus my attention on her mouth.

  She leans toward me, and just as I’m about to do something foolish, a throat clears behind me.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she says over my shoulder.

  Shit.

  I turn with her still in my arms to see Jefferson and Emmett standing behind us.

  “I twisted my ankle, and Braxton caught me before I fell.”

  He nods his head. “You still falling?”

  She gives him a quizzical look. “No.”

  “Then, maybe he should put you down.”

  “Oh,” she says as if just realizing she still has her arms around me.

  She disengages from my neck and hops down.

  “You okay? Does it hurt?” I ask as I steady her shoulders.

  “No. It’s good,” she says as she wiggles her foot and puts all her weight on it. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She faces the other men and says her good nights before heading off in the direction of the main house.

  I start loading chairs again.

  “Thanks for watching out for her, Braxton. I appreciate it, son.” He claps me on the back and walks off behind her.

  Emmett grins at me and winks.

  Fucking Emmett.

  Sophie

  I walk into the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the table, eating breakfast. They’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  Don’t they realize it’s too damn early for this level of awake?

  I stumble over to the percolator and pour myself a huge cup of coffee.

  “Any chance you have a carton of soy milk in here, Aunt Doe?” I ask as I shuffle to the refrigerator.

  “Soy milk? What the hell is soy milk?” Daddy asks as he lowers his morning newspaper.

  Who still gets a newspaper delivered?

  “It’s a healthier milk option that is derived from the soybean plant,” I calmly point out.

  He stares blankly at me as if I just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. Surely, they’ve heard of soy milk before.

  “Emmett, you ever tried to milk a soybean?” He raises an eyebrow as he asks the ridiculous question.

  “Can’t say that I have. Never came across one with a teat before,” Emmett replies without looking up from his plate.

  I hear a chuckle coming from the doorway and look over to see Braxton leaning against the frame.

  “What are you laughing at?” My frustration is transferred from Daddy to him.

  He shakes his head and walks fully into the kitchen where he begins to make a plate.

  Daddy speaks back up, “You kids and all your food hang-ups. No carbs, all carbs, no fat, all fat, gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan—it’s all a load of horseshit. If you eat what the good Lord provides, straight off the land, and then work hard, you don’t have to worry about all that nonsense,” he informs me as he shovels in a mouthful of bacon.

  “That’s just not true. Diabetes, heart disease, and gluten-sensitivity are real things, and you have to be proactive in your dietary choices. Especially if you don’t want an ass as big as the broad side of a barn,” I huff.

  That gets Braxton’s attention. His eyes shift down to the ridiculous Carhartt coveralls Dallas talked me into buying. Apparently, we are taking Beau four-wheeling at some point, and I need to be dressed for briars and gravel-slinging.

  “Maybe if you had more real milk and bac
on, you would fill out those new coveralls a little better,” he states with a gleam in his eye.

  He is trying to bait me. Great. I thought we had reached a sort of truce last night, but I guess it was just my imagination.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” I snap in return.

  “I’m just making an observation.”

  “Thanks,” I bite out.

  “Look, sweetheart,” Daddy interrupts our little spat, “Pop is seventy-eight years old, and he still works circles around the hired hands on this ranch. Most of who are a quarter of his age. He has been eating bacon from our pigs, eggs from our chickens, and drinking warm milk straight out of our cows’ udders his entire life. All those issues you are talking about are a result of all the soda and the prepackaged, processed, sugar- and salt-laden crap your generation calls food. Now, put a couple of teaspoons of that real milk in your coffee and sit down and eat.”

  Without saying another word, I do as he said and sit at the table in a huff. It’s like talking to a brick wall anyway.

  After finishing eating, I grab my cell and head outside. The crisp, cold bite of the morning air helps to focus me as I dial the office.

  Charlotte picks up on the second ring. “Sophia Doreen Designs. How may I direct your call?”

  “Good morning, Charlotte. It’s me.”

  “Sophie. I was about to call you. I just got off the phone with Gail. She is working on the new order, and she wants to double what they ordered last month. I talked to Justin in production, and he says it’s absolutely doable. I need your okay, and we will move forward. Also, she’d like to get one more exclusive design. How do you feel about designing a watch?”

  “A wristwatch? I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Yeah, she said a female watch with a chain band. Something different, elegant. Whatever you can come up with. They’d just like one to offer with the line and the Sophia Doreen name on it before Christmas. Apparently, watches are a hot-ticket item for men to gift their significant others, and she wants one that they can only get at Maple and Park. They’d like to start marketing the hell out of it ASAP.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll start working on some sketches right away.”