by Susan Crosby
Win gave Jenny a quick glance. “I’d be obliged, thanks.”
“I’ll get another glass. Have a seat. But not in my rocking chair.” The screen door slammed behind her.
Win didn’t hesitate. He sat on the two-person glider next to Jenny.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked.
Tiny tornados whipped through her body. “Yes, thank you.”
“I take it your car is in the shop since it’s not here in the yard.”
“Tex towed it to town. The damage was slight.”
“Your folks ask why you used my phone?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll bet your dad wasn’t happy I abandoned you.”
“I told him that was my doing, that I made you leave.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have left, no matter what you said. Thought about it last night a lot. I should’ve stayed.”
Jenny squeezed her hands together until they hurt. She wanted to grab him by the shirt and pull him right to her and kiss him until he passed out from the pure pleasure of it.
“I wouldn’t mind kissing you, either,” he said, leaning close and whispering.
Annie came out the door, making plenty of noise first. “Here you go,” she said, passing Win a glass then holding the plate of cookies toward him.
“Thanks, Annie. You make ’em?”
“I did. I have to hide treats or Adam and Brody will eat them in one day. They haven’t figured out where I stash stuff. What brings you here?”
“Food, as usual.”
His arm was touching Jenny’s. She could even feel the definition of his muscles as he moved his arm up and down with each bite of cookie. He wasn’t even trying to keep his distance.
“What do you need?”
“My sister is looking to have a standing order with you, one I could pick up weekly.”
“We could probably manage that, Win, although most of my product is going to restaurants and markets now. I’m increasing volume this season, however. Do you know what she wants?”
“Not really.”
Annie looked from Win to Jenny and back again and smiled. “Maybe Rose should give me a call, like she did before?”
“I’ll tell her.”
Annie yawned and stretched. “I need to lie down for a little bit, if you don’t mind, Jenny?”
“Of course not. What should I work on next?”
“If you could turn the dirt in the third greenhouse boxes, that’ll put us ahead of schedule. Nice to see you, Win.”
Win rushed to open the door for her. Jenny took advantage of that to escape from the glider. She headed down the steps and toward the greenhouse.
“Guess I’ll see you around,” Win said.
What? He wasn’t going to follow her? Steal a kiss or two or three?
She marched up to him. “Did you know I was here?”
“Nope.” He grinned.
Her heart skipped a beat or four.
“Did you think about me last night?” he asked.
“Not for a minute.”
“Liar.”
“Egotist.”
He laughed, then put two fingers against the pulse on her neck, which she knew was pounding hard. “You’ve filled out, Jenny Ryder.”
She glanced down at her body. “I put on the freshman fifteen that first year, but I lost that. I think I weigh the same now.”
“It’s distributed a little differently. You’ve got muscles, for one thing.”
“I worked at a farm lab all four years. It involved a lot of physical labor.”
He leaned closer. “Did you think about me last night?” he asked again.
“More than I should have.”
“Ah. The truth. Thank you.” He pressed a soft, sexy kiss against her lips then backed away. “See you.”
“Wait. Win.”
“What?”
“You wanted to tell me something. Before.”
“Another time,” he said, as he had yesterday. He touched the brim of his hat.
She stood and stared until he drove off, her heart still thundering, her body heavy with need.
She didn’t want to have another secret affair with him, but there was only so long she could resist him, and it was approaching fast.
Chapter Three
Win looked forward to Mondays and Fridays. He picked up Rose’s produce order from Annie—and Jenny—on Fridays and went to town on Mondays for the farmers’ market. He could’ve combined the two events and had Annie bring the produce to the farmers’ market, but he didn’t ask and she didn’t offer, as if she knew what he wanted.
Maybe she did. Maybe Jenny had confided in her, although it seemed unlikely.
Win liked the farmers’ market, even though he couldn’t get there until about six o’clock, an hour before it closed. He always bought a grilled sausage sandwich and a beer, then sat where he could listen to the live music, groups that changed weekly. He knew most of the families. A lot of the kids he’d grown up with were married now, having babies and working their family farms and ranches—or they’d left and never come back, like his two older brothers. His kid sister hadn’t gone to college like the rest of the siblings. She’d graduated from high school the year their mother died, and had stayed on to do all the cooking and cleaning. She claimed she was okay with it, but Win couldn’t see how. It was a stifling position.
Now and then Win thought about picking up and leaving, finding work somewhere else, where he might be appreciated. But his ties to Morgan Ranch were hard to break, even the hope that something might change. What was that saying? Hope springs eternal? That was his motto these days.
Farmers’ market in Red Valley City was a casual event, with only about ten booths this early in the season, growing to fifteen or so at its peak. It was set up in a good location, with lots of traffic and easy parking. Aside from produce, vendors sold beef jerky, eggs and honey products. Annie’s booth overflowed with table flowers, which were big sellers. Win could see all the booths from where he sat eating dinner and enjoying the twang of a country trio’s rich harmonies.
This was Annie’s second season at the market and Jenny’s first. They worked well as a team. A few women patted Annie’s belly and lots of people welcomed Jenny home with hugs. She was beloved in the Red Valley.
Win knew the moment Jenny became aware of him. Every so often, she stared beyond the people milling at the booths, as if looking for something—or someone. Then suddenly she zeroed in, holding his gaze for a few seconds before helping her customer choose a bouquet from a huge bucket. The changes in her were subtle after that—her posture a little straighter, her smile a little brighter, her cheeks a little rosier. He swore he could even see her breath quicken.
Win stayed put, watching, satisfyingly pleased at her reaction. He finished his food, talked with a lot of people who stopped to say hello, but kept his gaze on Jenny. At seven o’clock, the country trio announced their last song. Win wished he could ask Jenny to dance. They’d never danced together.
As soon as the song ended, he moseyed over to the booth and offered to help take it down.
“Mitch will be here any second, but thanks,” Annie said. “I had the Kileys save some sausage sandwiches. I’m going to go get them.”
“Evenin’, Jen,” he said as Annie walked toward the food truck.
“Win.” She was gathering the empty five-gallon containers that had held the bouquets of flowers, then was pouring all the water into one bucket. They’d sold everything they’d brought.
“Want me to dump that?” he asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She had tipped the three tables on their sides and was folding the legs when he got back, and they stacked them then started on the canopy,
even though Mitch had arrived, joining Annie.
“Son.”
Win froze for a second when he heard his father’s voice. “Hey, Dad. You remember Jenny Ryder?”
“’Course.”
“Hi, Mr. Morgan,” she said.
“Could I speak to you?” Shep Morgan asked his son.
“Kinda busy right now.”
“I can wait.” He wandered away, so he wouldn’t have to make small talk, Win figured.
Mitch backed the truck up, bringing it close. For the next few minutes Mitch, Win and Jenny loaded the supplies, not letting Annie lift anything. Knowing his father watched, Win didn’t make eye contact with Jenny for longer than a second at a time.
He and Mitch shook hands, then they drove off.
His good mood shattered, Win walked to where his father stood, leaning against a tree trunk in the now empty park.
“Consortin’ with the enemy, son?”
“In case you didn’t notice, Annie Ryder’s seven months pregnant. She shouldn’t be hefting stuff around.”
“You takin’ a liking to that gal?”
“I’ve come to respect Annie a lot, yes.”
“I meant the Ryder girl.”
“The Ryders may be your enemy, but they’re not mine. If you want to continue this line of interrogation, we can do it at home, Dad.” He turned his back on his father, not wanting anyone to observe them arguing in public. “Tomorrow.”
His father didn’t stop him, but Win figured he was pretty mad at him for walking away. Win was so accustomed to the perpetually angry man that it had little impact on him anymore. His father had never even given him a job title. Win couldn’t be called the foreman, because it would mean taking the job from the man who’d held that position for thirty years. The term herdsman was almost interchangeable with foreman, and Win could be called that, which would go a long way toward making him feel as if he had a real place at Morgan Ranch.
Shep wasn’t inclined to do that, either.
Life had been hard enough while Win had been growing up, but since his mother died, he and his father only butted heads, rarely agreeing on anything, especially when it came to updating their ranching practices to more modern ways. Win would like to go organic and humane like the Ryders, but it would mean a complete change in how they did business, and change wasn’t good for Shep Morgan.
Win wasn’t ready to go home. It was still light out, maybe an hour until sunset, so he headed to the grove of trees by the river, his and Jen’s secret place. He parked at the end of the dirt road, as close to the trees as he could, then he hiked to the river and sat on a boulder, remembering.
They’d been so young that summer. When he’d left for college she was fourteen, so there hadn’t been anything between them. He’d barely been aware of her, just catching glimpses of her at town events, but he hadn’t looked twice.
It was different when he’d finally come home for good. He’d spotted her the first day, having lunch at the diner with two girlfriends. Her laugh had gotten to him first as he sat at the counter eating a hamburger and fries. He could easily hear their conversation, which hopped from one subject to the next—boys and movie stars and an upcoming rodeo. Her friends were trying to talk her into competing for rodeo queen, but she wasn’t having it. He’d thought she could’ve won, hands down.
At one point she’d made eye contact, her smile wavering for a few seconds before she flashed him a sassy grin, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulders. As much as she appealed, he wasn’t about to get caught up in her spell, not even for just a flirtatious second. He’d concentrated on his burger again.
Then her girlfriends left and she strolled up to the counter and leaned an elbow near him.
“I’m so sorry about your mom, Win,” she said, as if they’d been old friends forever, her blue gaze meeting his directly.
Even though his mother had died on Christmas, it still felt new and raw. He’d kept a lid on his emotions for months, yet one sentence of sympathy from this teenager had his throat closing. “Thanks.”
She didn’t leave, didn’t even move. Finally she said, “Hey, you want to go to the river and talk?”
He had no interest in talking, but... “About what?”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I won’t be your rebellion, little girl.”
She smiled, slow and sure, as if she knew how attracted he was, and that she could get him to turn somersaults just by asking. “I’m eighteen,” she said, “and all grown up, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Oh, he’d noticed all right. Most girls looked good in their Wranglers, but she took it up a notch. Her rear was round and high, her legs long. And the white T-shirt she wore clung to grown-up breasts.
She laid a hand on his arm. “I apologize, Win. I’m not trying to tease you. Actually, I was thinking you looked like you needed someone to talk to, a friendly ear. I figure things are pretty hard at your place now without your mom.”
“Why would I confide in you?”
“I’m probably the safest person around, don’t you think? I couldn’t tell anyone about it, since we can’t be seen together. I promise it’d be just between you and me.”
He thought about it for a few long seconds. “You know where the grove sits by the river, ’bout four miles from town?”
“I do.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.” She left first.
Win followed a couple minutes later, not really expecting her to show up, thinking she’d only been playing a game with him, but she was there.
They’d talked for hours, about anything and everything. She’d cried for his loss, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. It’d been his undoing. He tried not to shed any tears in front of her, but she forced him to, made him give in, then ultimately gave him something else to think about when she kissed him.
She looked stunned for a minute, then came back for more. He carried her to his truck and did his best to keep the experience tender for her. They met several times a week after that....
Then she got pregnant, and they’d married in secret—
Win shoved himself away from the boulder and the memories. He got into his truck and headed home, then straight for the bunkhouse. He’d told his father they could talk tomorrow.
Tomorrow would come too soon as it was.
* * *
“I was surprised to see Win in the booth with you,” Mitch said as they drove back to The Barn Yard to unload the supplies.
“People are particularly kind to pregnant women,” Annie said. “And we do business regularly, you know. I like him.”
Mitch glanced past his wife to his sister. “He seems to like you, Jen. At least, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
She sniffed. “I have no control over Win Morgan’s eyes.”
Mitch laughed. “What’s that line about a woman protesting too much?”
“No placards being held up here.”
He laid a hand on his wife’s thigh, a small gesture that said so much. Jenny yearned for that kind of connection. She crossed her arms and stared at the passing scenery, feeling achingly alone, especially when Annie moved his hand to her belly and held tight.
“I think we’ve got a soccer player in there,” Mitch said.
Jenny could barely breathe. She’d had a baby inside her once, too, a lifetime ago, it seemed. And then lost it. She’d mourned for a long time. Had Win? Neither of them had said a word about it since she got home, although he might have been about to right after they’d made love in his truck and he’d trailed a finger down her naked body. She’d interrupted him, not wanting to deal with it then. But now? Could they talk about it now?
“Are you okay?” Annie asked as they pulled into the yard at the farm.
“Sure.” Jenny hopped out. Adam and Brody came out of the farmhouse. Between the four of them, they got everything put away in record time.
It was still light out when Mitch dropped off Jenny at the homestead. Her parents had gone to dinner at a friend’s house, but they would probably be home soon. They got up early, so they didn’t keep late hours. She wandered through the house, which held so many good memories. The only big change was some remodeling they’d done a few years back, removing the wall between the kitchen and the dining and living rooms, opening up the space, modernizing the kitchen at the same time.
There were four bedrooms downstairs and four upstairs, including the master bedroom and a guest room. As kids they’d never had to share bedrooms, only bathrooms. It’d been a luxury.
Jenny got into the shower and washed off the day. She felt old. Broken. For years she’d been able to channel her emotions into school and work. Now she was left to face truths without distractions.
It would be so easy to fall into another affair with Win. So easy.
But if she hadn’t learned her lesson the first time, what good was the lesson?
Chapter Four
Weeks passed. The sameness of the days started to frustrate Jenny, although she was grateful to be working at Annie’s farm and happy to take the load off her now eight-months-pregnant sister-in-law. Every Monday Jenny saw Win at the farmers’ market, where he always made himself visible. On Fridays he picked up the produce for his sister. Jenny always left that transaction to Annie.
Jenny’s life was nothing like she’d expected for herself when she’d come home, and now she was committed to at least two more months helping Annie.
But not today. Today was the Fourth of July. The Ryders would host a huge picnic for family, staff and friends, then those who wanted to see the fireworks would pile into trucks and drive into town when it was almost dark. Although the fireworks themselves would be set off at the lake, there was good viewing from downtown.
In the meantime, there was corn to be shucked and potatoes to be cubed and beef patties formed. After the guests arrived bearing even more food, the tables groaned with their weight. Kids played noisily. Someone picked up a guitar or a fiddle now and then and played a tune, either patriotic or Western. Her father, tall and fit like his four sons, presided over the event, a combination emcee and king. Her mother seemed relaxed and busy at the same time, having thrown parties like this for over forty years.
