Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  Dallas nods as she chews. Then, she points her fork at him. “She’s right; you look like you had a long, sleepless night there, Brax. Something keep you up all night?” She feigns concern.

  She’s like a dog with a bone.

  He gives her a pointed look. “Nope. I slept great. Better than I have in a long time.”

  She raises an impressed eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well then.” She gives me an impressed smile.

  My aunts look at each other in confusion over their odd exchange, and Emmett just grins at Braxton like a proud father. I want to crawl under the table and hide.

  I quickly try to change the subject. “Daddy told me the attorney set the reading for Friday morning. That means I’ll be heading home soon. We need to spend some more time this week going over the computer program.”

  The room as a whole goes silent.

  Aunt Ria places her hand over mine on the table. “We’re not ready to think about you leaving us yet. These last few weeks sure have flown by.”

  “They have,” I admit sadly.

  “You’ll come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, won’t you?” Elle asks.

  “Um, I haven’t thought about it. I suppose I could. I’ve always spent Christmas in the city while Mom and Stanhope are in the Bahamas.”

  “The Bahamas?” Daddy asks.

  I look up, a little stunned he’s even paying attention to our conversation.

  “Yes. They rent a house on the beach. They fly down the week before and stay through the New Year.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t actually know why.

  “It’s just what they’ve always done. I guess New York gets so crowded with tourists during the holidays, it’s usually bitterly cold, and business slows down that time of year, so they choose to spend it in the islands where it’s warm and quiet.”

  He throws his napkin on his plate and roars, “You mean to tell me that you’ve been spending every single Christmas by yourself all these years?”

  I wince. “Not every single one. Just since she and Stanhope have been married.”

  “How long’s that been?”

  “They were married the summer before I graduated high school.”

  The table goes quiet as my words echo around the kitchen.

  “Fourteen years,” he mutters as he shakes his head.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I have some friends in the city.”

  “Stop it. Don’t defend her. All these years, I thought …” He stops and looks me in the eye before he continues. Then, he changes his mind, gets up from the table, and storms out of the kitchen.

  Madeline gets up and follows him.

  “That’s not Christmas, Sophie. Christmas is a time for family. We’re all so busy year-round, and it’s a time to slow down and spend quality time with each other, celebrating the birth of our Savior and another year of bounty that the good Lord has blessed us with,” Aunt Ria says softly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset anyone,” I start.

  “He needs to process these feelings.” I look to Emmett as he speaks, “He’s been guilty of turning a blind eye to things for long enough.”

  Embarrassed, I tell the table, “My mother loves me. I’ve always been welcome to go along, but with school and then work, I just couldn’t.”

  “Oh, honey, no one is questioning Vivian’s love for you,” Aunt Doreen consoles.

  Dallas grabs my hand under the table and holds on while we finish our meal in silence.

  Daddy and Madeline never returned to finish lunch, so we wrapped their plates and cleaned the kitchen.

  Dallas and I decide to spend the afternoon taking Beau to a pumpkin patch about an hour outside of town.

  On our way to her house to pick him up, she starts the interrogation.

  “Are you going to tell me about last night or not?” she blurts out as soon as the truck hits the road outside of the ranch’s gate.

  “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Every single detail.”

  I spend the next fifteen giving her a blow-by-blow account of the night, starting from when Braxton followed me into the barn and ending with him kissing me senseless this morning before I snuck back over to the house.

  “Wow,” she breathes.

  “I know.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been in town a little over three weeks and already trapped the Braxton Young in your snare. That’s some impressive shit.”

  “I haven’t trapped anyone. We are just enjoying each other’s company; that’s all.”

  She gives me a pointed look.

  “Okay. Really enjoying each other’s company,” I admit.

  “From hate to love. It’s a tale as old as time,” she muses.

  I spit coffee across her dashboard. “We are not in love,” I sputter as I try to dry the mess.

  “That’s right; it’s hate to ‘enjoy’ each other.” She air-quotes the word enjoy.

  I roll my eyes at her. “I’m pretty sure the only reason he pursued me at all is because he knows I’m leaving soon, and there is zero chance of me expecting more than a fling.”

  “Do you though, only expect a couple of nights of sex, and that’s it?”

  “Well, yeah. I don’t know how I could expect more.”

  “So, you’d be completely okay if you came back for Christmas and Braxton and Morgan were happily married and her belly was swollen with his baby?”

  “Christmas is only a couple months away, Dallas. Unless she’s already carrying his seed, that’s impossible.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I consider her question, and the truth is, I would be devastated. How did I let myself catch feelings for him? I need to get out of Poplar Falls and back to my real life as soon as possible.

  Braxton

  I find Jefferson loading the trailer with chain saws and straps. Everyone gave him a wide berth after he stormed off during lunch, but the boys just showed up for our foray into the woods to cut firewood for the winter.

  “You all right?” I ask as I pick up one of the saws and lay it in the truck bed.

  “Fine,” he grunts as he lifts another one on.

  “Talk to me, old man,” I push.

  He removes his hat and wipes his brow. “I just thought she was living a good life. That her momma married a rich man, who gave them both everything they ever wanted. Everything I couldn’t give them. And to hear that my baby girl has been up there, spending Christmas all alone all these years, while I’m here, surrounded by a huge, loving family … fuck. No wonder she hates me.”

  “I don’t think she hates you, Jefferson.”

  He places his hat back on his head. “Well, she should. I hate myself enough for both of us.”

  He slams the tailgate shut and walks off.

  I don’t know the story of what went down with Jefferson and his first wife. I don’t even think Aunt Madeline knows the whole story; however, I think Sophie deserves to know, but I don’t get a chance to voice my opinion before the rest of the boys show up.

  We return hours later with a trailer full of logs. It takes a lot of wood to run the fireplaces in the farmhouse and my loft as well as the wood we go through while building bonfires. Every fall, we stockpile as much as we can, so we don’t have to go back out during the cold, wet winter months.

  We get the logs unloaded, and Jefferson and Emmett head up to start cooking the ribs for supper while Walker, Silas, and I start splitting logs and chopping up the wood to stack in the woodshed.

  “Jefferson was grumpier than usual today,” Silas points out as he swings his ax at the stump in front of him.

  “Damn near took Emmett’s arm off with a chain saw too,” I agree.

  “Did he find Sophie in your bed this morning?” Walker asks.

  I slide my eyes to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play that shit with us. I saw the way you were
staring a damn hole through Trey last night. I’m surprised the boy didn’t spontaneously burst into flames.”

  “Yeah, and then you disappeared into the barn after Sophie. We tried our damnedest to keep him from going looking for her. Even Dallas tried. When he said he was going to check on her and make sure she was okay, Dallas jumped up and offered to look herself, but he trailed after her,” Silas adds.

  I keep loading logs on the stump and hurling my ax.

  “And, when Chloe and I went to leave, there was a light on in your apartment. We could see someone moving around up there. Seeing as Lori had left right before us—”

  “Enough,” I cut Silas off.

  “What are you doing, Brax?” Walker asks, a look of concern on his face.

  “I have no idea,” I admit.

  He nods. “Not that I blame you. She’s smoking hot and fun as hell, but I’m smart enough not to touch Jefferson’s daughter.”

  “Like you had a chance.” Silas smacks him in the ribs.

  “Nobody does against this handsome devil.” Walker grabs my chin and starts making kissy noises at me.

  I push him off, and he starts laughing.

  “I have an ax in my hand, dumbass,” I warn him.

  “Seriously, does Jefferson know you have sleepovers with his girl?” Silas asks.

  “I don’t know. If he does, he hasn’t said a word to me. I think Emmett knows though.”

  “If Emmett knows, Jefferson knows, and so do Ria and Doreen,” Walker notes.

  “We’re adults,” is all the explanation I offer.

  “Are you a couple now?” Silas asks.

  “No,” I answer honestly.

  “Fuck buddies?” Walker interjects.

  “No.”

  “What then?” he asks the million-dollar question.

  “She goes back to New York in a few days. Until then, we are what we are.”

  “You just going to let her go back without a fight?” Walker asks incredulously.

  “Of course I am. She lives there. Her business is there.”

  “But you wish she’d stay,” Silas guesses.

  “Wouldn’t matter if I did.”

  “Have you considered telling her?” Walker asks.

  “No.”

  “Maybe that’s something she’d like to hear,” he suggests.

  “Why? To make it harder for her to leave? I’m sure Doreen and Ria are going to make her feel bad enough.”

  Walker opens a bottle of water and shrugs. “There’s always Morgan.”

  “Or Lori,” Silas adds.

  “Nah, I took care of Lori for him last night,” Walk says with a wink before downing his water.

  Dallas’s truck pulls up around three p.m., and Sophie emerges with a sleepy Beau in her arms. She has her hair pulled through a green-and-pink camouflage ball cap and her face full of green and pink paint that looks like a butterfly mask. She’s so damn beautiful. They disappear into the house.

  “Hey, Brax. Can you guys come unload these for us?” Dallas bellows from the driveway.

  Walker and I make our way to the truck and look inside the bed.

  “Damn, did you guys leave any pumpkins for the other patrons?” he asks as we take in the massive haul.

  “We went a little overboard. It turns out, Sophie is as good at telling Beau no as I am.”

  “Looks like you guys had fun,” I say as I start grabbing pumpkins and setting them on the porch.

  “Sophie sure did. Do you know she hasn’t been to a pumpkin patch since she left Colorado? She said that some churches in the city truck in a bunch of pumpkins from upstate, sell them on their lawn, and call it a pumpkin patch. Isn’t that pathetic? It hurt Beau’s little heart to hear it, and he made it his mission to do every single thing Smithfield Farms had to offer, so Miss Sophie could do it. Wore himself out.” She shuts the truck. “Those are all of Sophie’s.”

  Walker looks at the massive collection of pumpkins in every size and shape that litter the porch. “What’s she planning to do, pack them in a bag and take them on a plane with her?”

  Dallas shrugs. “Beats me. I reckon she just wants to enjoy them as much as she can the next few days. Thanks for the help.”

  Sophie

  We had a big day. The pumpkin patch was so much fun.

  “Look at this one, Miss Sophie! It’s as big as my head,” Beau exclaimed as he picked up a tiny pumpkin from among the others and raised it for me to see.

  “It is, and look at your muscles. You’re so strong,” I praised.

  “Momma, can I have this one?” he asked.

  “Yes. Add it to our wagon,” Dallas said as she walked through the patch.

  Between the three of us, we filled two wagons with pumpkins.

  We got ourselves lost in a corn maze, picked three baskets of apples, had our faces painted, rode a tiny train around the orchard, and ate our weight in both apple cider and pumpkin-flavored doughnuts before I paid for our treasures as Dallas loaded a sleepy Beau into his car seat. Two burly teenagers packed our wares onto the truck with the crate of pie pumpkins we had picked out for Aunt Doreen earlier.

  We drove around for a while, enjoying the fall foliage, while Beau napped.

  The Colorado mountains sure were beautiful this time of year.

  “I’m exhausted,” I say as I lay the sleeping child on the couch. I collapse beside him and close my eyes.

  “Beau is a handful. He can wear you out,” Dallas says as she walks in the front door.

  “You look all wide-awake and alert over there. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “I’m used to it. He’s been running me ragged since he learned to walk. Besides, some of us got plenty of sleep last night, and some of us didn’t.”

  “Touché.”

  “Are we going to carve pumpkins tonight?” Beau asks as he eats his grilled cheese sandwich at the table.

  Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria are teaching Dallas and me how to make pumpkin pies from scratch. I’m covered with flour and rolling out dough as she checks the pumpkins that are roasting in the oven. Aunt Doreen is scooping the roasted flesh from the ones that have cooled, and Ria is mixing the eggs, milk, and spices.

  “We can do it when we get home tonight,” Dallas answers as she pulls the pan from the oven.

  “You can do it here,” I say as I lay the dough across the pie pan and trim.

  “It’ll be messy.”

  “I can get the boys to put a tarp down in the front yard,” Aunt Ria offers.

  “I’ve haven’t carved a pumpkin in twenty years. I don’t think I even remember how.”

  “See, Momma? Miss Sophie needs me to teach her how to do it,” he pleads.

  “Are you sure? That means, you guys will have two more mouths to feed at dinner again.” Dallas looks at Aunt Doreen.

  “Jefferson is smoking ribs out on the grill. I’m making my broccoli casserole and mac ’n’ cheese.”

  “Yay! Mac ’n’ cheese!” Beau approves of the menu.

  Dallas looks over at him. “What do we say to Miss Doreen?”

  “Thank you, Miss Doreen,” he says through a mouthful of grilled cheese.

  “After you swallow, baby,” she scolds.

  “Sorry, Momma.” He grins at her.

  Daddy and Emmett cooked a mess of ribs and slathered them with Emmett’s homemade barbeque sauce.

  “These are amazing,” I say as I lick the sauce from my fingers.

  “Can I have another one, Miss Sophie?”

  I look over at Beau, who is covered in sauce. It’s on his nose, his chin, both hands, and even in his hair. I grab another rib from the center of the table and plop it on his plate.

  “The secret ingredient is cherry soda,” Emmett whispers to me through the side of his mouth.

  “Can I know the other ingredients?” I ask.

  “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” he says with a wink.

  “I’ve been trying to get him to tell me for years,” Aunt Doreen says as she
nudges me with her elbow.

  “All done.” Beau raises his sticky hands in the air. “Can we carve pumpkins now?” he asks Dallas.

  “As soon as everyone else is finished. We haven’t had pie yet.”

  “But I’m full of pie,” he whines.

  Aunt Doreen kept sneaking him bites of pie filling all afternoon.

  “We have to wait for everyone else to have theirs,” she tells him.

  He deflates, but he doesn’t argue with his mother.

  “I can eat pie later,” I say, and he smiles. “If you think you can talk Braxton and Walker into getting us that tarp before they have dessert, you and I can get started.”

  “Please, Mr. Braxton,” he begs with his little sauce-covered hands folded in a prayer under his chin.

  “You got it, little man. Go let Sophie wash you up, and we’ll meet you around front.”

  “Yay!” He leaps from his spot at the table and runs toward the house.

  I get up to follow him, and I get him washed up. Daddy gives me an old, raggedy sweatshirt to wear.

  By the time we make it out front, Braxton and Walker are spreading the tarp in the drive and helping to bring our larger pumpkins down to the yard.

  “Ew, look, Miss Sophie!” Beau pulls his hand from inside his pumpkin, and with it comes a bunch of clumpy goo covered in seeds.

  “Yucky.” I fake disgust, and he giggles.

  I draw a firefly on the front of a giant, oblong pumpkin and carve it so that its tail flickers with a candle lit inside.

  “Damn, that’s gorgeous,” Dallas praises when I’m done.

  “Whoa, Miss Sophie, that’s a big bug with wings. Cool!”

  “It’s a firefly,” I tell him.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve never seen a firefly before?”

  “No.”

  “Colorado doesn’t have fireflies,” Dallas informs me.

  “Well, they are these tiny beetles that come out at night, and as they fly, their butts glow, so other beetles can find them. When there are a bunch of them together at once, the entire park looks like stars are twinkling close to the ground. It’s pretty amazing.”