Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  “Nope,” I answer instantly.

  Morgan Cullman was my high school girlfriend. We dated for three years, and then she went off to college while I stayed and worked on the ranch. When she returned four years later with her degree in agricultural engineering, we resumed our relationship and were engaged within a year.

  That was before she decided to take a job with a company that buys up local ranches and brands them under one corporate umbrella, and she made it her mission in life to convince struggling ranchers to sell for far less than their ranches were worth.

  She tried to sell it to me as her doing them a huge favor and helping the local economy grow and expand, but all it did was cheat families out of the land they had owned for generations and line the pockets of a greedy company with no ties to Poplar Falls.

  Once they set their sights on Rustic Peak and she started trying to feed their corporate bullshit to Jefferson and tried to manipulate me, I was done. The breakup was painful. I did love her, but ambition had changed her, and our dreams and ideals no longer lined up with one another.

  After I broke off the engagement, which she didn’t take well, she took off to work at the company’s headquarters in Fort Worth, Texas. That was six years ago. The last thing I want is to get involved with her again.

  Six weeks. Six weeks was all it took for Dad to know Mom was the one and get her to the altar. I figure, if Morgan and I couldn’t get our act together after more than four years, she simply is not the one.

  We work as fast as we can, but the downpour starts about an hour into our work. We jump into the trucks to take cover and let the worst of it pass. Then, we slip and slide through the mud and get a temporary patch in place until the land dries up in a couple of days, so we can come back and reinforce the fence.

  Jefferson and Emmett head back to the house, and I drop Walker at home before I head back to wash up and eat.

  “You sure you don’t want to go back to the house for supper? Ria made a pot roast,” I ask as I pull up to his door.

  “Nah, man, I’m fucking beat. I’m just going to hose off this mud and pop a frozen pizza in the oven.”

  My back is aching from being bent over the fence for five straight hours and carrying split logs from the trailer to the line. I’m sweat-soaked and covered in dried mud, and my energy is zapped from barely eating lunch. Climbing the steps that lead to my room will take all I have left in me, so I grab my bag with a spare pair of jeans and thermal and opt for a quick hose off at the shower beside the last stall in the barn instead.

  I start the spray and let it warm as I strip out of my boots and caked coveralls. Then, I step in and let the water wash the shitty day from my shoulders.

  Sophie

  “Sophie, can you go check and see if Brax’s truck is in the driveway? I don’t want to take the roast out of the oven before he gets here,” Aunt Ria calls into the office as I close everything down for the evening.

  Dallas stopped in to help, and Aunt Doreen and Ria entertained Beau while we worked. A lot was accomplished. It turns out, Dallas is pretty efficient at deciphering chicken scratch and explaining what a lot of the invoices are for.

  I walk over to the kitchen window that looks out toward the barn. “It’s out there,” I confirm.

  “Can you go see what he’s doing? I called up to his apartment, and he’s not answering. If he’s still piddling with unloading, tell him to get his hiney in here and eat, and he can finish that up later. Everyone is starving.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Great. Just what I want to be doing, traipsing through the mud to find the asshole who’s keeping dinner waiting.

  He’s not the only one who’s had a long day. My stomach lets out an irritated growl.

  The tractor is in the drive beside the truck, so he hasn’t taken off on it. I walk toward the barn to have a look around.

  I don’t see him, but I can hear the sound of water running, so I walk to the back, and there he is—naked. The last stall was converted into a shower, and I’ve seen some of the workers use it to hose the mud and manure off before getting into their trucks to head home or entering the main house, but he’s full-on showering out in the open.

  I should turn around and go back, but I stand there and take in his broad back and sculpted ass. They don’t build them like that in New York. Those muscled thighs and that rugged physique was not manufactured in a Gold’s Gym on lunch hour. No, that body was built through hard work and good genes.

  Very, very good genes.

  I watch as he stands there with his hands planted on the wall of the stall above his bent head, so the water laps over him for a few more seconds, and then I start to slowly back out of the barn as quietly as I can manage.

  Before I reach the doors, he calls out, “Tell ’em I’ll be in shortly.”

  I freeze.

  “I could smell you when you walked in, Sophie.”

  “Smell me?”

  “Yeah, you always smell like jasmine.”

  Oh God, I can’t believe I was caught watching him shower.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I just—”

  “It’s okay.” He looks back at me over his shoulder. “I would’ve peeked, too, if I had found you showering out here.”

  His heated stare bores into me. I clear my throat.

  “I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

  He raises his eyebrow, and I’m sure I’m blushing from head to toe.

  “I mean … you know what I mean,” I stammer as I turn and flee to the house.

  “Did you find him?” Aunt Ria asks as I enter the kitchen.

  “Yep. He’s in the barn.”

  “What’s he into out there?” she asks as she starts to set the table.

  I must look guilty because Dallas suspiciously looks at me and adds, “Yeah, what’s he up to?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. I just yelled to him that supper was ready, and he said he’d be in here, in a minute.”

  “That boy. I swear, he’d work himself into the ground if we let him,” Emmett says, shaking his head as he sits down at the table and starts loading up a plate.

  “You talking about me again, old man?” Braxton booms as he walks through the back door.

  His hair is wet and brushed back from his face like he ran his hands through it quickly. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a tight-fitting cream-colored thermal shirt. I realize he looks almost as good dressed as he does undressed.

  I avoid his eyes as I walk to the sink to wash my hands before I sit.

  He slides in beside me and speaks in a low tone, “I owe you an apology.”

  I turn on the water. “No, you don’t. I’m the one who invaded your privacy and gawked at you while you were trying to shower. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a naked man, especially a soaped-up, wet, naked man. I probably need to remedy that soon. Charlotte tells me that all the time. Anyway, I’m sorry. Hormones took over, I guess,” I word-vomit all over him.

  “Um, yeah, I was talking about this morning.”

  “Oh …” What I just spewed hits me. “Oh God.” I turn to face him and grimace. “Can you forget everything I just said?”

  He leans a hip against the sink and moves in a little closer. “That’s going to be hard to do. Don’t you think?”

  I look up, and he’s grinning at me.

  “Now is not the time to tease me, Braxton.”

  “Who exactly is teasing who?” he asks.

  It’s a fair question.

  “Hey, what are you two whispering about over there?” Dallas yells from behind us.

  “Sophie here was just graciously accepting my apology for being short with her this morning,” Braxton answers without looking away from me.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. It’s so nice to see you kids getting along. Now, both of you come and sit and eat. Supper is getting cold.”

  We do as Aunt Doreen requested and take our seats at the table with the others. Dallas eyeballs u
s curiously as she cuts up the roast beef on Beau’s plate.

  “Mind your own business and pass the potatoes, Dallas,” Emmett says as he looks between the two of us with a mischievous grin.

  I give him an appreciative smile in return.

  After we’ve eaten dinner, I walk Dallas and Beau out to her truck. “Thank you for all the help today.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you planning on working all day tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m waiting on some information from the bank, and the rep that handles the ranch’s account is out until Monday. I plan to get up and work on some designs for a few hours and then get Aunt Doe to take me into town. I want to get a manicure, and I’d love to find someone to trim my hair.”

  “I’m off work tomorrow. Want me to pick you up? I was going to go see Janelle down at the salon next week anyway. I’ll see if she can fit us both in.”

  “That would be great.”

  She shuts the door after buckling Beau in. “Maybe you’ll tell me what’s going on between you and Brax then too,” she slips in as she rounds the front of the truck.

  “Nothing is going on between Braxton and me. Trust me.”

  “Whatever. You have the worst poker face ever.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “So then, what was with all the blushing and whispering in there?”

  “He was just apologizing for being such a jerk this morning when I asked for his help. That’s all.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Hmm … well, that’s boring.”

  “What did you think was going on?”

  “I don’t know. Something juicier than that though. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she hops in the truck and takes off.

  I release a relieved breath and head back into the house. It’s been a strange day, and I’m ready to call it a night. I look at my watch and see its eight thirty p.m. Great. I’ve acclimated to Poplar Falls’ crazy schedule.

  As I make it to the door, Braxton is coming out. He slides sideways to allow me to pass.

  “Good night, Princess.” He uses his annoying nickname for me, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like he’s using it to insult me.

  “Night,” I return as I make a beeline for the stairs.

  Yep, a strange day indeed.

  Sophie

  “I want a change. I was thinking maybe an ombre from dark to medium to platinum. What do you think?” I look up to see Janelle staring at me in the mirror with her fingers in my long blonde hair.

  “An ombre, you say?”

  “Yes. Why? You do know how to do an ombre, right?”

  I should have asked before I came in. My hair is in desperate need of a trim, and Dallas brought me here with the promise that Janelle was a master of all things hair.

  “Sure. I’ve seen it done before at a hair show one year. I’ve never had a client ask for it before though.” She shrugs.

  “Do you think you could pull it off?”

  “Honey, I can pull off anything, but, um … are you sure you want to do that craziness to this beautiful mane you have?”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I think it’s a little silly to tri-color your hair. Plus, you’d be stripping all the color out, and that is just damaging it for no good reason. Your natural hair color is gorgeous. Do you know how many women come in here, asking for this exact shade of blonde? If you want my opinion, I would just add a few highlights around your face to accent that. But, hey, it’s your head, and you’ll be the one who has to live with it. There are always hats.”

  I frown at her in the mirror. I’m not entirely sure if she’s trying to talk me out of it because she has no confidence in her ability to pull it off or because she honestly thinks I’ll look ridiculous.

  I turn to Dallas, who is flipping through a magazine. “What do you think, Dal? Should I do the ombre or highlights?”

  “Do the ombre if you want to look like a freaking unicorn walking down Main Street,” she says without looking up from her page.

  Great. The last thing I need is to stick out any more around here. I’ll just have to shelve that idea until I return home to New York.

  “Fine, Janelle. Please give me highlights and a trim.”

  “You got it, darlin’.” She gets the color mixed and the foil ready, and then she begins the interrogation. “So, I hear you’re helping your daddy get everything up-to-date out at the ranch.”

  Word sure travels fast in this town.

  “Yes, trying to anyway.”

  “I’m sure his stubborn ass is having to be pulled, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century.”

  “Twenty-first.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s the twenty-first century.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes, Janelle, for about nineteen years now,” Dallas chimes in.

  “Wow, time flies,” she muses.

  Dallas rolls her eyes at me in the mirror, and I giggle.

  “Honey, I’m real sorry about your grandma. She’s sure going to be missed around here.” She shakes out a cape that has seen better days and ties it around my neck.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  “I bet it’s surreal, being back at the ranch. Everyone treating you nice?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “How’s that Braxton Young doing?”

  “Still young enough to be your son,” Dallas answers for me.

  “But he’s not,” she whispers in my right ear.

  “He’s fine, I guess. Not much of a talker. Kind of ornery. I swear, he’s a bigger pain in the ass when it comes to change than Daddy is.”

  “He might be an ass, but what a fine ass it is. Too fine to be out there on that ranch, all alone. People are starting to talk, if you know what I mean,” she says as she starts dividing my hair into sections, adding color and wrapping it in foil.

  “No, we don’t know what you mean. Do tell.” That finally gets Dallas’s attention enough to put the magazine down and join the conversation for real.

  “Oh, you know, every girl in this county has been trying to catch his eye for years, and he blows everyone off. Folks are starting to wonder if he bats for the other team.”

  “Are you implying you think Braxton is gay?” I ask.

  “Well, the possibility has been considered,” she admits.

  “That’s insane. He is not gay,” I state matter-of-factly.

  “And how do you know that for sure?” Janelle asks without looking up.

  I can tell there is more to her question than the one she asked.

  I shrug. “I just do. I mean, there is nothing wrong with being gay. I went out on a great date with a gay man before I left New York.”

  “Wait. What?” Dallas interrupts.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” I look back up at Janelle. “Braxton is not gay though.”

  “You said that. Now, how do you know that he’s not?”

  Because of the way he looks at me and the way he’s touched me. Because a woman knows when a man is attracted to her; that’s how, I think but do not say.

  “Just call it intuition.”

  “Uh-huh. You heard her, Janelle. Intuition,” Dallas repeats as she digs her elbow into Janelle’s side, making her drop the color brush.

  I give her a shut the fuck up look in the mirror, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

  She and Janelle give each other a wicked smile that I do not miss.

  Great, just what I need. Janelle’s Big Hair Beauty Salon is the town gossip center. It’s practically TMZ for Poplar Falls. The last thing I want is to be the topic of any conversations that take place within these walls.

  We arrive back at the ranch to find Madeline in the porch swing, reading.

  “Hi, girls. Don’t you both look lovely?”

  “Janelle gave us both a tune-up this morning,” Dallas tells her as I take a seat on the steps.

  “What are the two of you
getting into this afternoon?”

  “I have to pick Beau up from school in an hour, but we’re going out to blow off some steam later,” Dallas answers then turns to me, “by the way, you’re driving tonight, Soph. I call dibs on drinking too much and showing your ass.”

  I laugh. “I can’t be your DD, Dallas. I don’t have a driver’s license.”

  Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go wide. “What do you mean, you don’t have a driver’s license?”

  I shrug. “I’ve never needed one.”

  “You’re joking. How do you get around?”

  “In the city, you take the subway or a taxi. Most apartments don’t come with anywhere to park a car, and nobody wants to drive in Manhattan traffic anyway. We leave it to the insane cab drivers.”

  “You mean, you pay someone to take you everywhere? Work? The grocery store? Everywhere?”

  “Sure. Or we walk. Depends on the distance and the weather.”

  “That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think, Mrs. L.?”

  “It’s different that’s for sure. Braxton and Elle couldn’t wait to get their license. They were at the DMV the second the doors opened the day they turned sixteen,” Madeline agrees.

  “Really? I guess we don’t pay it any attention. It’s just the way it is.”

  “It’s like you come from Mars or something.”

  “I’ve felt that way a time or two myself the last couple of weeks.”

  Braxton

  “Brax?”

  “Over here, Elle.”

  I’m under the pickup, tightening the oil filter I just installed, when her face peers under the front of the truck.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “Are you going to the pool hall tonight?”

  Saturdays usually consist of Elle trying to convince me to go out with her, starting around noon and not letting up until I agree.

  “I guess.”

  Might as well make it easy on both of us.