by Emma Sutton
Both of us nearly out of breath from the jog over, she sits and catches her breath. I want to join her there on the bench, but with the amount of nervous energy that rushes through me in swells, I can’t. Instead, I pace back and forth, my clip slow but meaningful.
“I need to—” I inhale deep again, trying to discover the thoughts in exactly the same way I’d worked them out in my mind. Taking another short second to compose myself, I pluck my hat off, toss it to the end of the bench, and wipe my head on the arm of my shirt. “I need you to sit there so I can say some things I’ve been needing to tell you, Hattie.”
Furrowing her brow, she physically braces herself on the ledge of the bench by her knees.
“I know you hate the name, but I call you Handful because you are one. You’re independent. Too much so, sometimes, for your own good probably. You’ve got a temper when you’re told something you don’t like. Just like I do. But you run. A lot. From me and from other things in your life because you’re scared of ‘em, and I understand that, too. Because it’s okay to feel that way. But right here— right now with us, that fear isn’t doing us any favors. And I may be alone in that feeling, but I need you to know. I need you to see me standing here in front of you, Handful, asking you to please take a chance on us.”
A cheer from the crowd we’d just left by the lake causes her to scowl as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“See? Just like that. You’re a Handful if I’ve ever seen one,” I chuckle, pointing at her. “But all I’m asking is for you to think about it— to reconsider letting yourself be my Handful,” I say, pounding a fist to my heart. “Because I want you with me.”
Pacing to and fro again, I realize I’ve come to the end of my try, and by the messy grimace on Hattie’s face, I can tell it obviously hasn’t been too effective.
But that’s it. That’s all I ever practiced saying when I would run through the talk in my head as I was falling asleep at night, as I was herding cattle and watering the ponds.
Hattie’s lack of response digs a deep dark hole in my insides. Because no answer from her means we’re just the same as we’ve always been— two strangers passing in the night. Both scared of being alone but petrified enough to continue doing nothing about it.
“And I’m scared, Hattie. I’m terrified—”
Before I can continue, her bewildered expression nearly collapses in on itself, and in the blink of an eye, she stands and rushes me.
“Me too, Walker,” she whispers fierce, grabbing onto my hands to still me from my back-and-forth. Her touch feels like a drug until she suddenly pulls back from me like my skin is fire.
I nod as a bead of sweat falls from my brow and rolls down my jaw. “Okay. Alright,” I swallow hard. “So what are we gonna do about that?”
“Wait, it’s my turn.”
“Okay,” I sigh, the word nearly coming out as a laugh because I’m so relieved to hear her speak at all.
“I hate myself for what I did to you, Walker. I’m sorry I messed things up so much for us. But this ranch has been my entire life for almost four years now. Like everyone, I can’t imagine losing my job here. I can’t imagine the ranch just dissolving into another Wyoming dust storm come the end of summer.” She shifts and looks down at the buttons on my shirt. “But more than that, I can’t imagine not having you with me through all of it.” Taking a step backward, she shoves her hands in the pockets of her denim overalls. “I don’t want to let myself believe it. But I’d rather face anything the world could throw at me right now than lose you,” she says with a shake of her head. “You make me feel strong. You make me feel lovely and important. And yes, you make me feel like a handful. But that’s why I want to spend my time with you. Because I do, Walker. I want to be with you.”
An unexpected grin splits my lips as my heart grows soft for her. “You serious right now?”
Hattie scoffs and shoots me a playful frown. “What’s wrong? Were you hoping I’d say otherwise?”
“Not a chance,” I say, planting my hot hands on her arms and pulling her into my embrace. I push her hair away from her face and study her baby blues as she gazes up at me. “This is exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
“Me too.”
Resting my chin on the top of her head, I get a whiff of her vanilla shampoo mixed with the dying heat of the sun. “You know, you could’ve saved us both the trouble and twisted the dagger once you stuck it right in my heart last month at the stable,” I tease into her hair.
Pulling back from me, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a laugh. “Really? A dagger?”
Her cheeks are red with the evening energy, and her eyes shine something perfect under the wide Western sky. And those lips— they’re glossed pink as ever tonight. “And you say I’m the handful,” she lilts, her sweet, warm breath lingering at my chin
Not able to stop myself, I dip down and capture her lips in mine, wanting to taste how much of a handful she is. Sliding my palms up her back, I slip them underneath her loose hair. As I caress her neck and shoulders, my heart thunders with love for this woman as we kiss under the intoxicating twilight of summer.
When she pulls back, her breath heavy from kissing, I stare into her eyes. They’re pure magic tonight, the color of MJ’s blue Irises out around the back of her garden. They’re the kind of enchanting eyes you only see on movie screens. “Yep,” I sigh, pressing my forehead to hers.
“What?” she asks.
“It’s confirmed. You’re officially the handful of the ranch. The sweetest, caring, prettiest, most precious Handful I ever did meet,” I say, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead between each word.
We stand here behind the barn, intertwined in a hug as we listen to nearby cicadas and the croaking of the toads until I figure I should let her get back to the barbecue.
Without warning, I catch the shredding of grass as Sophie darts into the periphery, making a huge loop from the other side of the chicken coops and landing her sprint right at our ankles.
“Hey,” Hattie laughs as the pup starts hopping in circles beside us.
“Ready to head back?” I ask, letting my arms fall down her.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m not. I don’t want to go without you ever again.”
“Well,” I chuckle, raising my eyebrows. “Who said a single word about you going without me?”
“What, are we gonna hold hands over there or something?” she says, adding a playful wink. “In front of actual people?”
“Look,” I admit, grabbing my hat from the bench. I put my arm around the back of her as we walk around the barn, heading back to the rest of our Lone Oak friends with Sophie by our side. “I’ve already been without you, Handful. I figure, if it’s alright with you, we can go ahead and make this thing official now,” I say with a grin.
“Okay. I guess if we have to,” she shrugs with a silly smirk that causes me to laugh.
Pulling her eyes from mine, she focuses on the muted colors reflecting off the lake and smiles something real this time as she lays her cheek against me. “I’m just teasing,” she whispers with the most genuine emotion I’ve ever heard from her. “I’d love nothing more than to make this thing real with you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hattie
My hike from the lodge to the stable this morning takes no time at all for how relieved I am that Walker and I made up yesterday at the barbecue. We’d spent a good amount of time tucked away behind the barn telling each other exactly what was on our hearts and mended, or at least worked at mending everything between us until we hit an intoxicatingly new high of open communication with one another.
As if that weren’t enough, we decided that if we were to have a shot at a real relationship— something we both agreed on wanting— we should be open about it with our friends.
I couldn’t help but feel like the proudest, happiest woman alive as Walker put his arm around me as we headed back to join Mary Jo and everyone else.
; As my boots crunch in the gravel, I continue through the morning fog, the sun probably only twenty minutes close to rising and giving us full daylight on the ranch.
Eliza and Jess, both having arrived to the stable a few minutes earlier than me this morning, come trotting out of the open bay door with huge grins on their faces. Jess whispers something to Eliza.
“What?” I ask bluntly.
“Nothing,” they both sing in chorus as they each hop onto their respective four-wheelers. “Just starting chores,” Eliza promises as she kicks on her engine.
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you out there in a second,” I say, needing to grab the ropes to set up after we’d emptied the trucks yesterday.
Jess waves as they both speed off, jolting past me and into the open pasture that’s laid out a good twenty yards from the stable.
First thing’s first, I head to the tack room and study the wall, immediately spotting the ropes that Walker had given us. He’d even thrown a sturdy metal latch at the ends to make them easier to hook to the fencing posts. But as soon as I grab for the rope, I spot a bright pink sticky note on the wall a few inches to the left.
Peeling it off, I feel pure joy rattle in my chest. Suddenly, I’m incredibly grateful that the note Walker had left me a few weeks ago wouldn’t be the last. Squinting my eyes in the dim light of the room, I read it to myself.
“Good Morning, Handful.”
Exhaling, I shake my head. Walker must’ve ridden over first thing this morning to pin this here. He knew I’d be the one to fix the pasture run.
With a lingering grin, I shove the note in my pocket and struggle my way carrying both ropes over to the grass in order to hook them up. Once I reach the first yellow post, I notice a bright green sticky note tacked right to the cap of it.
Furrowing my brow, I pluck it off. It’s completely unusual for him to leave me more than just one note, so I’m astounded to find it here. Focusing in on the words, I read his scrawl.
“I wanted to let you know,” is all it reads.
Shoving the note into my pocket with the first one and hooking the rope to the post, I move to the fence, making sure the length of it stays taut as I hook it to the sturdy hardware where I find yet another sticky note, this one bright orange.
“How beautiful you are,” it says.
With a stark realization, I glance over at the two other posts and notice there’s a note stuck to each one of them, too. Dropping the second rope in the dirt, I’m shocked. Collecting the notes, I continue reading as my heart skips in wonderment.
“You’re as bright as the midday sun,” the next one reads.
“And as special as the stars in our nightly sky.”
My chest pumps with love for this man and how incredibly thoughtful he is.
Remembering our kiss from last night, I slide the other two notes into my pocket with a dreamy feeling. But as quickly as I can in order to meet Eliza and Jess so we can start wrangling horses, I fix the other rope to both posts, making sure it’s secure. With the area now completely sectioned off, I head into the stable and face the wall where I grab my lead rope for the horses.
Except there’s yet another note stuck to the plaster. Peeling it off, I read Walker’s handwriting.
“But most of all, I wanted to let you know this.”
This?
Trying to decipher the clue or figure out what the trail of sticky notes actually means, I find myself bewildered. Shoving the last sticky note into my pocket, I consider pulling out my phone and calling him and demanding some kind of an explanation for his cuteness. If I were funny enough, I could even do it over two-way. But instead, I decide I’ll call and talk to him after morning chores. For now, we need to get started on the grooming.
As I round the corner down the last aisle of the stable to hop on my four-wheeler, I draw in a sharp breath. To my complete shock, I find Walker standing there by my ATV, his hands clasped in front of him.
“What are you—” I spit the words, not realizing how harsh they sound from my astonishment. I laugh and shake my head at him. “Walker, what are you doing here?” I ask, stepping closer.
“Hi,” he grins.
“Hi.”
“Bear with me for a minute. So I considered leaving one last sticky note with my final message here, but I thought you’d rather hear it straight from me,” he says, lowering his gaze to look me straight in the eye.
Fighting a laugh at how clever he is, I raise my eyebrows. “What is it?”
He moves toward me and pulls me into a hug, kissing me once on the forehead. But bringing his hands down to my sides, he holds me back and connects our gazes. “I love you, Hattie,” he says low, not a single ounce of tease in his expression. “And I have for a while now. But I wanted to finally tell you.”
A sharp shiver washes down my arms and spine as my heart hammers against my ribcage, his warm and tender sentiment having seeped into me. These three words that I’ve been waiting to hear from someone— anyone— my entire life. And here it is, coming straight from the honest mouth of Walker Hayes.
Lifting my arms, I wind my fingers around the back of his neck. Standing on tiptoes, I tilt my face up and kiss him, my lips tingling against his as a surprising flow of tears leaks down my face. “I love you, too,” I tell him.
“You do?” he asks through our kiss, breaking it once only to wipe away my tears.
“I love you so much,” I say, swiping at my cheek, my vision now blurred from all the emotion welling up inside me.
“Good,” he chuckles, pulling me into another embrace. “Because there’s not a single person I’d rather share this feeling with, Handful.”
I nod, immediately understanding. Continuing to cling to this man with whom I’m so happily in love, I high dive into the idea of being with him forever and whisper something I hope he never forgets. “Thank you for making me the happiest girl on this ranch.”
Epilogue
Hattie
“Come here,” Walker says, pulling me away from where I stand at his kitchen counter stirring spaghetti sauce on the stove. Spinning me in his arms, he plants a kiss on my lips.
“Ooh,” I whisper with a grin. “What’s that for?”
“I need to run over to the lodge. Mason needs me to bring him some papers for a reference.”
The thought of Mason asking for a reference makes my heart twist. “Is he really leaving us?”
“Sounds like it. He’ll be missed, but he says it’s necessary.”
I turn back to the sputtering sauce and sprinkle in the fresh basil I’d chopped. Turning the dial on the stove, I cut the heat back off and stir it once more with the wooden spoon. “Yeah,” I agree. “He hasn’t really mentioned why he’s leaving though. Aside from the fact that it’s time.”
Walker slips his arms around my waist and plants his chin on my shoulder, watching over me, and I can’t figure out why he’s being extra affectionate this evening. I love it, but on any given Wednesday night in May, he’s usually still trying to unwind from his long day working cattle.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he reminds me again. “I’ll probably take Sophie.”
The sweet brown dog pops her head up from where she lies beside her dinner bowl waiting for a second serving of kibble that’s not coming her way.
“Okay. Dinner should be ready by the time you’re back. Just waiting on the garlic bread.”
With a wink, he grins at me. “You’re so good to me. Come on, Soph. You want to go for a ride?” He grabs the keys to his truck from where they dangle on the coat hook next to the door.
Sophie’s ears perk up now as she scrambles to Walker’s heels. And just like that, the two loves of my life disappear out the front door.
I hear Walker’s truck start, its engine rumbling like thunder just before a storm. Standing on tiptoes, I reach overtop the refrigerator and turn the radio on. It throws me a bit of static before it dials in halfway through some old Conway Twitty tune that makes me smile.
&
nbsp; Wiping my hands on my apron as I sway to the song, I stir the cooked pasta into the sauce using a pair of tongs. Just as I start plating the spaghetti on the dining room table, the oven beeps. Setting the skillet back down, I pull the baking sheet from the heat, the smell of warm garlic incredibly inviting. I lay it on the empty burners on the stove, and at just about that time, my cell phone starts ringing from somewhere over on the kitchen counter.
When I find my phone by the fruit basket, I glance at the screen. It’s Eliza.
Answering, I press the cell to my ear. “Hey,” I say, pulling the apron from around me and hanging it on the hook just inside the pantry door.
“What are you doing?” Eliza asks, clearly out of breath.
“Just fixing supper.”
“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening like this, but I need your help.”
My heart suddenly suspends in my chest, the thought of her needing help and the sound of her desperation hitting me in an unexpected surge.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, heading to the front door. I slide my socked feet into my boots and open the door with a view that overlooks part of the grassland. “Is everything okay?”
“A few of the horses got loose from Field B. I was able to get a few of them, but Oreo’s acting up.”
“You’re kidding me,” I huff, knowing he’s probably galavanting around the grounds to his heart’s content right now.
“They’re probably fine, the others are. But I haven’t been able to get Oreo.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m at the bottom of the hill right now. Carlita took a right but Oreo headed straight up to the oak.”
“Alright, I’ll get him. I’m on my way,” I say just as Eliza ends the call.
Making sure the stove is off, I leave the food half-served and run out the door, heading straight for Walker’s four-wheeler that’s parked on the edge of the driveway. Starting her up, I peel off into the field and roll my hand to give her some gas.
