by Liz Isaacson
“I haven’t seen him,” Belle said. “But Jace might have.” She reached for her phone and thumbed out a message. “We’ll see if he responds. If he’s out working, he doesn’t always take his phone.”
Megan’s fingers rolled around and around each other. Her stomach swooped from one side of her body to the other, and she felt sure she was about to be sick. Minutes ticked by while Belle tried to distract her with small talk from the town.
It felt like a lifetime had passed, but when Megan checked her phone, only ten minutes had gone by. “Belle, what—?”
“He hasn’t answered.” She stood, a long sigh hissing from her lips. She placed one hand on her belly and took slow, careful steps. “The cowboys carry radios when they go out. Let’s go over to the administration lodge and find him.”
“Find Landon,” Megan corrected.
“We’ll find them both.” Belle gave her a warm smile, one that usually calmed Megan. But she didn’t think anything or anyone could help her right now—except maybe Landon.
“So you really like my brother, huh?” As they walked down the stairs, Belle bumped into Megan’s side, her elbow linking with Megan’s, a giggle floating on the air between them.
Megan scanned the area around them, hoping Landon would emerge from the landscape and come straight to her. He didn’t. In fact, she didn’t see any cowboys right now. Only trees surrounding the homestead. The bright, blue sky. The burning, yellow sun, which seemed much too bright.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I really like your brother.” A sob wrenched free from her throat. “I think I may have messed up too badly.”
“Because your ex came into town? Nah.” Belle’s boots kicked up dust as they scuffed their way toward the administration lodge. “Landon will understand. You just need to talk to him.”
Megan nodded and fell a step behind Belle as they entered the lodge. She expected to see the place crammed with men wearing cowboy hats, but the building was practically empty. Only one man sat at a desk near the door.
“Hey, Caleb,” Belle said to the blue-eyed cowboy. “Is Jace in his office?”
“No, ma’am. He and some of the boys are out in the hay barn, putting up the fresh load from the north fields.”
Belle leaned against his desk. “He take a radio?”
“Always, Miss Belle.” He lifted the one on the corner of his desk. “Want me to call him?”
Belle flicked her gaze to Megan, and a skitter ran over her shoulders when Caleb’s eyes found hers. “We’re actually looking for Landon. Can you call him?”
“I think he went to the hay barn too.” Caleb put the radio to his mouth. “Landon, come back. Come back, Landon.”
Excruciating seconds passed. The radio didn’t so much as crackle. Megan spun away from Caleb’s inquisitive gaze, her heart squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
“Landon here.” His voice shot life right into Megan’s body and soul. She pressed her eyes closed in a silent prayer before turning to face Caleb.
“Landon, there’s someone here to—”
Megan waved her hands to cut him off at the same time Belle said, “Tell him I need him. Me, Caleb. I need him to come back in.”
Caleb’s wild eyes flew from Belle to Megan and back. “Uh, Belle needs you for a minute.”
“Put ’er on.”
“No, uh.” Caleb pulled his cowboy hat off to reveal his sandy brown hair, which he ran his free hand through. “She needs you to come into the admin—”
“My house,” Belle hissed.
“Uh—she needs you to come on over to her place for a minute.”
Dead air came through the radio. Megan thought sure Caleb would resend his request, but he just stood there, the silent radio in his hand and something akin to panic riding in his eyes.
“Megan Palmer is there, isn’t she?” Landon finally asked.
Caleb lifted his eyebrows at the same time Belle’s chin dropped to her chest.
“Are you Megan Palmer?” Caleb asked. “The preacher’s daughter?”
Megan nodded, that label burying itself under her skin and burning.
Caleb sealed her fate by saying, “Yeah, Megan Palmer’s here,” into the radio.
“I’m not comin’ in,” Landon said almost immediately. “I’m working.”
“What should—?”
“Tell her whatever you want, Caleb,” Landon said. “I’m not comin’ in.”
Caleb set the radio back in the corner of her desk. “I’m afraid he’s pretty much the most stubborn man on the planet.”
“Actually, that’s Jace.” Belle flashed a smile toward Megan, but it withered.
“He won’t come in,” Caleb said.
“Well, you live with him,” Belle said. “What should we do?”
“He won’t come in,” Caleb said again, his voice thoughtful. “But he wouldn’t abandon his work either. He’s in the hay barn. It’s a free country.” Caleb shrugged as he sat back down behind his desk.
Megan glanced at her ballet flats. Definitely not the best footwear for tromping around a ranch. She had no idea what horrors a hay barn held. “Maybe you could just point in the general direction of the hay barn,” she said, employing some of that faith her father said she had.
Landon pushed his gloves tighter onto his hands and reached for another bale of hay. He warred with himself constantly. Had been since he’d left Megan’s place. He’d wanted to turn around and go back. Turn around and go back and fight for her, for them. Turn around and go back and tell her what he’d gone there to tell her.
He hadn’t. He’d stopped by the church to see if Carlos had finished the demolition on the balcony. He had. With that done, Landon had maybe two weeks of work left to finish on the church. Maybe two weeks to get everything packed that he needed for Utah. Those same two weeks to get his rodeo contacts on the phone, find some horses to buy, get everything delivered to Brush Creek for both himself and his animals.
He’d then come straight to the ranch, where he found Jace and reported for work. His best friend had looked at him with questions in his eyes, but Landon had said, “I just want to work, Boss,” and Jace had put him to work.
They’d talk later. Jace had a way of getting everything out of Landon, whether he wanted to share or not. But for now, Landon didn’t want to talk—which made Megan’s sudden appearance at the ranch all the more troublesome.
And Belle…. Landon’s frown deepened and his frustration for his meddling sister increased. If it wasn’t for Belle, Landon wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with Megan, wouldn’t have gotten hurt again.
Bitterness surged, coated his tongue, made breathing difficult. Just like with Lauren. He swallowed, cleared his throat, reached for another bale of hay. Half a dozen men worked on the load, but Landon was alone at the bottom of this side of the hay barn, the only one pulling bales from this stack to send up to the loft.
He bent, grabbed, lifted, tossed the bales onto the conveyor belt to be delivered to the top, where another man would pull them off and pass them along for stacking. The work made his muscles scream, but at least he didn’t have to think too hard about it.
That was one thing he loved about ranching. It was good, honest work. It was dirty, and difficult, and downright exhausting. But Landon loved it.
“There you are.” Megan’s voice cut into his labor, first kicking his heart into another gear, then making his muscles sag in defeat, and then producing a sneer of anger on his face.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said.
“Fine.” Megan sat on a hay bale several paces away. She wore a flowery top that had no business being seen on a working ranch, a pair of denim shorts, and the flimsiest shoes Landon had ever seen. The fact that she hadn’t tripped over twine or punctured her foot on a nail was just plain miraculous. “I’ll talk,” she said.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “But my mind’s made up.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” He fac
ed her, his heart and body and soul all firing on different cylinders. None of them lined up, and it left him feeling dizzy and drunk. “I bought Brush Creek. I’m moving to Utah in four weeks.” He stared at her as she winced, as pain came into her eyes, as she straightened her shoulders and composed herself.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction. The pain…did she care about him?
“Four weeks,” she said. “Wow.”
“Two to finish the church. Two to tie things up here. Four weeks.” He reached for another hay bale.
“You’re still going to finish the church?”
“I don’t leave a job undone.” He cast her a glare. “What are you doin’ here?”
“I called, but you didn’t answer.”
“Well, then, we’re even.” Landon wished his words weren’t quite so poisonous.
“Eric tracked me down to pay back some money he’d stolen.” A mirthless laugh escaped her mouth. “Money I hadn’t even known he’d taken.”
Landon glanced up and found her studying her hands, her countenance completely broken. Oh, how he wanted to bridge this distance between them, cross to her and comfort her. He bit back the desire.
“Apparently it’s part of his parole.”
“So he’s not in jail?”
“Got out by testifying against a bigger fish,” Megan said. “And promising to right his wrongs, which is why he showed up in Gold Valley yesterday afternoon.”
“And you all just picked up right where you left off.” Landon wasn’t asking. He’d seen the look on Eric’s face that morning. He was still interested in Megan.
“Of course not,” Megan said. “Do you really give me no credit?”
Landon threw the bale on the belt. “No, Megan. This isn’t about you at all. It’s about me, all right?” His chest heaved and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. “I’m—I thought I was ready to move on, but maybe I’m not. I don’t think you’re anywhere ready to move on, despite what you say and how you act.” He took a deep breath. “But I know one thing: I don’t want to be the other man. I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t. I can’t. So it’s best if I just don’t date right now.”
Her chin trembled. “Landon—”
“I’m sorry.” He turned away, unsure of how he’d ended up apologizing to her. “I shouldn’t have started anything with you in the first place. I thought I was ready to fall in love again. I was wrong.”
“No, you weren’t.” Her footsteps came closer and her arms snaked around his midsection. The distinct scent of lemons came with her, something new to add to his misery every time he smelled it. “You were ready to fall in love again. You told me you loved me. Was that a lie?” Her heated breath seeped through the cloth of his shirt.
He shook his head. “No.” He twisted in her arms. “But I’m not like you, Megan. I just barely came back to church a couple of years ago. I don’t have the faith you do. I don’t even know how to have it. I know horses, and I know ranching, and I know God wants me in Utah.” He brushed a curl from her face, almost unable to look into the depths of her dark eyes and see so much pain.
“I don’t know what happened with Eric—”
“Absolutely nothing happened with Eric.” At the sincerity and force of her words, a song floated through Landon’s soul.
“I believe you,” he whispered. “But I still don’t think we’re….” He stepped away from her touch and looked up to the loft, where Ty stood watching and listening to everything.
“You’re not ready,” Landon concluded, reaching for another hay bale. “And I have to get back to work.”
Megan stepped back as he lifted the bale and set it on the conveyor. “And that’s it. You won’t give me any more time to get ready? We’ve only had a couple of months.”
“I’m leaving in four weeks,” he said.
“But once, you said you didn’t have to go right away. That you could wait a year, or however long you wanted.”
“I want to wait four weeks.”
“Well, Landon.” Megan’s voice broke on his name, and the shards of sound sliced right through his heart. “I don’t think I’ll be ready in four weeks.” Her pinched, high voice made him wince.
He couldn’t look at her when he said, “I know, sweetheart. That’s why I said I shouldn’t have started anything with you. I’ve always known I wouldn’t be staying in Montana for much longer.”
He bent, grabbed, lifted, tossed another bale. And another. And another.
“What if I said I loved you too? Would you take me to Utah with you?”
Another bale landed on the belt. “We both know you’re not a liar, Megan.” She didn’t love him, and he wouldn’t take her to Utah just because she said she did. He wanted her there. Wanted it more than anything. But not under false pretenses.
“I didn’t answer when you called because I was in meetings, and then Eric had just shown up on my doorstep,” Megan said. “I’m not mad about you buying Brush Creek.”
“That’s nice to know.” Landon tried to make his voice as gentle as possible.
“I’ve never once thought of you as anything less than me because you only came back to church two years ago. In fact.” Megan got between him and the conveyor belt, pausing him in his work. “I think you have more faith than you know.” Her dark eyes glinted like black diamonds, and Landon almost lost the inner battle he was waging.
“I’ll see you at the church tomorrow,” he forced through his dry throat. “I aim to have that balcony done in less than two weeks.”
“I’ll be there,” Megan said before turning and marching out of the hay barn. Landon wasn’t sure if she meant her words as a promise or a threat. He dropped the hay bale and collapsed onto it.
“What am I doing?” he moaned. Her explanations made sense. He believed her when she said nothing had happened with Eric. Why hadn’t he swept her into his arms and kissed her in that moment?
“What should I be doing?” he asked, hoping his whispered question would fall into God’s ears, and that Landon would get a definitive answer in the next instant.
Okay, the next…or the next.
But he didn’t.
“You don’t need another answer,” Landon chastised himself. “You’ve asked this question, and it’s been answered.” He was meant to be at Brush Creek. He knew it. “But what about Megan? Where should she be?”
But the Lord didn’t give Landon that answer, and Landon had a distinct feeling it was because it wasn’t his answer to get. Megan would have to work that one out on her own.
Chapter 19
Landon’s heart pumped like it might explode out of his chest, and he hadn’t even gotten out of his truck yet. The beautiful carved doors of the church seemed to mock him. He refused to search the parking lot for her car, prolonging the moment of disappointment or euphoria.
Landon sighed, slid out of the truck, and shoved his phone in his pocket. He settled his cowboy hat lower on his head and kept his eyes on the ground as he strode toward the doors. Once inside, he knew Megan wasn’t there. The very air would be perfumed with jasmine and lemons, and it simply smelled normal.
His muscles released and he dropped his tools to the floor. Carlos and his crew came through the doors, the ends of their laughter coming with them. Landon wished he had a reason to so much as smile these days.
“I’ll need some help unloading the lumber,” he said, stuffing his personal troubles to the bottoms of his boots.
The rest of the week followed the same pattern. He showed up at the church, nervous as a cat on hot bricks until he discovered Megan wasn’t there. He worked the day away, trying to get the project completed quickly. He spoke with Tom in the evenings, got the number for the horse breeder in Texas, started making business plans and lists of what he’d need to start training horses into rodeo champions.
He skipped church on Sunday, unable to bring himself to go, even when Belle told him he was being a big baby about the whole “Megan thing.”
&nb
sp; Landon had ignored her texts after that, ignored Jace’s pounding on his cabin door, ignored Caleb when he asked, “This about Megan Palmer?”
Of course it was about Megan Palmer. The woman had dominated his thoughts since that moment in Jace’s cabin when she’d kissed his cheek. Once Caleb left for church, Landon hung his head and wondered how on earth he could possibly survive without Megan in his life. He lifted his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He could do it—he’d done it after Lauren left. Somehow picked the pieces of himself up and moved on.
Going to church had helped so much, and Landon desperately wanted that comfort and peace in his life. He’d lost Megan; he wouldn’t lose his faith too.
Determined, he grabbed his hat and marched out to his truck. The same anxiety from the past week assaulted him, but he soldiered on. He had to park in the outer lot and walk and when he finally entered the chapel he realized the need for a functioning balcony. The hymn was still being sung, and no one seemed to notice him standing on the fringes.
He swallowed, the urge to turn and leave burning through him with the power of bright red coals. He couldn’t help scanning the backs of people’s heads, looking for that dark, curly hair. He didn’t find it before Caleb hissed at him and scooted over on the bench to make room.
Landon took the seat with a muttered, “Thanks,” and slumped against the bench. When Pastor Palmer got up to speak, Landon pretended not to notice. It had taken him months to develop the diligence to listen to an entire sermon. How to clear his mind of his own pain and troubles for long enough to allow something better inside.
Today, Pastor Palmer started his sermon with the words Landon needed to hear most: “My friends, the Lord loves you.”
Everything inside Landon released, sighed, relaxed, softened. Maybe Megan had been right. Maybe he had more faith than he realized.
If there was anything more excruciating than watching Landon come and go from church without being able to speak with him, snuggle into his side, Megan didn’t ever want to experience it.
