by Liz Isaacson
Thirty seconds in the microwave, and her frozen breakfast was hot and ready to eat. She followed the sausage, pepper, and egg muffin with a half a cup of coffee that had more cream and sugar than actual caffeine.
Then she left her cabin, locked the door behind her, and started toward the Goat Grounds as the sun started to lighten the day into various shades of gold.
In the arena, she used the pitchfork to spread out the half a bale of straw she’d set by the gate for this morning. She wanted there to be enough straw to cover the dirt, and she liked the way her muscles tensed and released as she worked.
Carson had said he liked to work with wood, and she’d asked him to build a bin or a chest for the yoga mats. They’d discussed putting it beside the gate, so people could take them as they checked-in.
He hadn’t arrived in the Goat Grounds yet, and anxiety pulled through her. She looked over the fence and down the road, hoping to see him. He wasn’t coming, and she took the pitchfork with her toward the barn. The goats wouldn’t be brought out until just before the class, and she would do that.
She’d mingle with the class members, and Carson would check them in. He didn’t have a printer or a computer, as he’d admitted to not really being into the digital age during their lunch at the pizza buffet on Monday.
Or maybe that had been during the picnic they’d taken on Thursday afternoon. He’d driven down to town and bought sandwiches and chips at the deli, and they’d escaped to a remote part of the ranch to eat.
And lie on their backs on the blanket he’d brought, talking and watching the sky. In Montana, he said there’d be clouds, but the California sky didn’t have any of those. At least not that day.
Before she’d gone through the gate, she heard the rumble of an engine, and she spun back. Guests hadn’t arrived yet, had they?
No, it was Carson’s white truck that pulled into the parking lot, and he backed in to the closest space to the gate. The engine turned off, and he got out and moved around to the tailgate.
Adele’s hand drifted up and pressed against her pulse, which was now firing against her breastbone. He was the picture of male perfection, from that hat to those boots and everything in between.
By the end of their lunch, he’d been laughing about the cleanliness of his jeans, and he’d promised to wear a dirty pair to goat yoga. After all, she’d told him that every cowboy should look like they belonged on the ranch where they worked.
He whistled as he reached for the huge case in the back of his truck. The bin for the mats. Adele left the pitchfork by the gate leading toward the barn, and she hurried back across the arena to him.
“Carson,” she said as he reached the gate. “Let me get it. Let me. Hold on. Back up a bit.”
He did, and she opened the gate and guided him through it. “Right there. Set it down there.”
He once again did as she asked, and she remembered his sharp look as he’d suggested she ask him to help her. He didn’t seem to mind today, though, and he stood back and smiled at the bin he’d made.
“What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Adele backed up a few steps and slipped her hand into his. “I think it’s beautiful, Carson. Is that a—?” She leaned forward to examine the figure carved into the wood on the top rung of the bin.
“It’s a goat,” he said.
“And it says Last Chance Ranch.” She turned and beamed at him. “You made this?”
“I told you I liked to work with wood.”
“Yeah, but you carved something into it.”
“Yeah, it’s called whittling.” He grinned at her and drew her into his arms. “Good morning, by the way.”
“Oh, the jury’s still out on that,” she said, though she did enjoy the safety of his arms, the scent of his cologne. “We can decide if the morning is good after the class.”
“Right,” he said. “Only an hour now. What time did you get here?” He released her and started toward the opposite corner where the yoga mats had been stacked.
She followed him and said, “I’ve only been here for about twenty minutes.”
“Right,” he said. “I don’t believe that. Did you sleep last night?”
“A little,” she said, but she didn’t want to tell him that some of her insomnia was because of the chicken cheese bread she’d made, filmed, and edited so she could have a video for today and one for tomorrow.
She didn’t think she’d want to cook and film today, so she’d had to get ahead.
“You?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Slept like a baby.” He picked up an armful of rolled yoga mats. “Did you know people who sleep with a dog in their bed get better rest than those who don’t?”
Adele had no idea how to respond to that. She grabbed as many yoga mats as she could carry. “I did not know that.”
“It’s true,” he said. “I heard it on the radio last night while I was finishing the case.”
She could just picture him on his front porch, carving—oops, whittling—and listening to the radio, his two black labs at his feet. It was the picture of serenity and peace, and she held onto those feelings for as long as she could.
By the time they had all the mats loaded in the case, Adele’s nerves had returned. She stood back and snapped a couple of pictures with her phone. “We can put these on the website.”
“I’ll be sure to get a lot of pictures this morning too,” he said.
“And you’ve got the list for check-in?”
“Yep, Scarlett let me use the printer at the homestead.”
“Perfect,” Adele said. “And I’ll work on the electronic check-in. I bet Scarlett would let us use the money we earn for an iPad or something.”
“I’ll need to be tutored in how to use that,” he said.
“Oh, I can tutor you, cowboy,” Adele said, grinning at him.
His eyes blazed with desire. “I’d like that.”
Adele had always felt the fire between them. She knew he’d burn her, and yet she wanted to play with him anyway. “Goats first,” she said, clearing her throat and taking a step away from him. “Class. Then tutoring.”
And by “tutoring,” she hoped Carson knew she meant, “kissing.”
“Let’s go get the goats then,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go get the goats.”
Chapter 12
Carson moved through the people down on the yoga mats, most of them with high ponytails and giggles in the backs of their throats every time a goat got close. Adele didn’t miss a beat in her yoga instruction, and it took a great deal of Carson’s concentration to keep the goats moving, treat them when they did what he wanted, instead of simply staring at her.
Everyone had been on time, twittering and taking pictures as they walked up. One woman had filmed the whole thing, including him checking her in. He’d given her a huge smile while internally, he was rolling his eyes. Who cared about that video?
Of course, Carson didn’t really understand social media at all. The people he wanted to see and talk to, he…well, saw and talked to them in person. Sure, he texted, but posting on Facebook or something like that?
Wasn’t in his wheelhouse. He wouldn’t even know who would read his posts.
He treated Peanut Butter Cup as the goat jumped up and balanced on a woman in a pink shirt. Her friend on the mat beside her dropped out of her yoga pose and snapped some pictures. Carson turned to move down another alleyway between the mats, and Peanut Butter came with him, obviously not satisfied with the bit of graham cracker he’d gotten.
Carson’s job was to keep the goats moving. Make sure they got to every person.
Adele finished her workout and started clapping, everyone else joining in. “And now we’ll have a few minutes for pictures,” she said. “Or questions. Carson and I will be available to help with either.”
Carson fed the last of the crackers to the nearby goats before he was swamped with people, most holding cell phones.
&
nbsp; Then the pyramids began. The goat-holding. The laughing and smiling and clicking of pictures. He tapped on two dozen phones, smiling and chuckling with the people. Adele worked the crowd opposite him, and Carson kept trying to catch her eye.
She either didn’t want to look at him or was really involved in her conversations. Either way, their eyes never met, and by the time the last group of people left, Carson was ready for a tall glass of ice cold water.
He opened the gate for Adele to herd the goats back to the pasture, and he grabbed the shovel and started cleaning up the arena. Adele returned with a half a bale of straw, and Carson forked it out in preparation for their next class.
It wasn’t set to start until eight o’clock that night, but now they were ready.
“Wow,” he said once he’d finished. “Tell me what you think.”
She looked at him, rivers of excitement running through her gaze. “I think that was the most amazing thing in the world.” She giggled and shrieked just before launching herself into his arms.
Carson laughed with her as they spun around. He set her on her feet again, and Adele fell back a few steps, tucking the errant pieces of her hair behind her ears. “Okay, so I’m starving,” she said.
“I’m thirsty,” he said. “Have you got water in your cabin?”
Adele rolled her eyes. “No, cowboy. But you have some in yours.” She started for the fence and pointed him through it.
“Oh, so you can come in my house, but I can’t come in yours?”
“I want to see your dogs.”
“Excuses,” he teased, capturing her hand in his when they hit the road.
“I….” Adele looked to her right, away from him. “I’m not ready to tell you yet.”
“Tell me what?”
“Can you understand that?” she asked, serious now.
Carson wanted to give her the space and respect she wanted and deserved. So he said, “Of course I don’t understand it. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
She didn’t confirm, and that made Carson’s stomach writhe as if he’d swallowed a handful of tiny snakes. “Right?” he pushed.
“Right,” she said.
They continued to his house, where he got tall glasses of water for both of them, draining his in only a few seconds. “Wow, goat yoga is thirsty work.” He filled his glass again and watched Adele sit on his couch, both Tony and Ted at her feet.
Traitors.
He shook his head as he smiled at the three of them. “Do you have pets?” he asked.
“Not right now,” she said. “I did have a little dog back in the city.” She scrubbed behind his big dog’s ears and spoke without taking her eyes off the black labs. “But she got old, and we had to put her down.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“She drove Hank crazy,” she said.
Carson breathed in and out, and then said, “Hank must be the ex-husband.”
Adele froze, and Tony pushed his head under her hand to get her to keep petting him. She stood and looked at Carson instead. “Yeah,” she said, drawing the word out. “He’s the ex-husband.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long has it been?”
“Just over a year now.” She smoothed her hands over her hair. “I mean, it was over long before that, but the divorce has been final for a year.”
Carson nodded and turned to open the fridge. “How do you feel about omelets?”
“I adore omelets.” She came up behind him. “I can make one for us, if you want.”
He straightened, realizing just how close to him she stood. He lazily curled one hand around her waist and brought her close. The desire to kiss her dove through him, and his head dipped down.
“So I like ham in my omelets,” she said, her voice higher pitched than Carson had heard it before. “And cheese. And sometimes broccoli. What have you got in your fridge?” Adele wiggled out of his grip, and Carson let her go.
She had a distinct edge of heat in her eyes too, but her sudden babbling and quick escape indicated she wasn’t ready for him to kiss her.
Yet, he told himself.
And that was okay. He had a feeling that when he kissed Adele Woodruff, his whole life would change, and he’d just gone through a major life adjustment as it was.
“I think I have some tomatoes,” he said. “What about those for an omelet?”
The days passed quickly, with animal feedings and stall cleanings and almost more goat yoga than he could stomach. Adele always came to his house in the evenings after their sessions, and she seemed more exhausted than she should be.
Her schedule was much more open than his, as all she needed to do was feed the cats and work the yoga sessions. She did spend time in the Goat Grounds with all the goats in addition to that, but she didn’t need to get up at the crack of dawn to do it.
She definitely had something going on behind that double-locked door of her cabin, but Carson refused to ask again. She’d said she’d tell him when she was ready, and Carson decided he could be patient.
After all, he’d lived with his father and brother for years as they drove the ranch further and further into debt.
“Picnic tomorrow,” Adele said with a sigh as she got to her feet. She dusted off her jeans and looked down at him. They’d been sitting on his front steps while the stars came out, his hands busy with a piece of wood, both dogs beside her, and her telling him stories of her childhood in Savannah.
Carson could listen to Adele talk for hours, but she was really good at asking him questions too.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m helping with the tent and tables in the morning.” He stilled his carving knife. “You’re cooking everything?”
“Well, not everything. Scarlett’s bringing watermelon.”
“You still haven’t told me how you’re going to elevate a hamburger or a hot dog.” She’d told him that Scarlett had asked her to do the menu, and she wanted to stay true to a traditional holiday picnic, but “elevate” it.
When he’d asked her how she was going to do that, she’d craftily dodged the question.
“Chili,” she said.
“Chili,” he repeated.
“Homemade chili. My grandmother’s recipe.” She grinned at him and extended her hand toward him. “Come on, cowboy. Walk me back to my cabin.”
Carson set his carving aside and stood up. “All right.” Sometimes he walked her home, and sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes she drove over to his place, and sometimes he drove her back. She hadn’t even gotten close to kissing him, and Carson had decided to let her make the first move.
“Jeri’s bringing a salad.”
“Mm,” Carson said. “The ranch really has grown in the last couple of weeks.”
“Well, Scarlett has money coming in now,” she said. “Hudson sold all those cars. The goat yoga is on fire. And Forever Friends has provided a huge grant.”
“Yeah.” Carson knew what was going on around the ranch. It felt like a miniature community up here, the same way Cobble Creek had been. Scarlett had hired someone to oversee the cattle, and Cache Bryant had taken the cabin on the other side of Hudson. Carson had moved in next to Sawyer, and Jeri Bell had taken the one next to him.
Another new hire, a general handyman and fix-it man, David Merrill, rounded out the inhabitants in the Community.
Carson liked them all, though he saw some more than others. Jeri was working on the new canine construction, but apparently she could spare some time to put together a salad.
Adele didn’t say much else on the way back to her cabin, and Carson followed her lead. He paused at the bottom of her steps, knowing better than to go up them. “Adele?” he asked, something low and serious in his voice.
She must’ve heard it, because she turned back and just looked at him.
“You believe in God, right?”
“Yes, sir,” she said simply.
He gazed up into the night sky, the vastness of it
almost suffocating him. The stars winking back at him used to be a testament of the Lord’s all-powerful and all-knowing presence in Carson’s life.
“At times like these, I think I do too.”
Adele came back down the steps and moved right into Carson’s arms. “What happened?” she asked.
“I begged Him to let me keep the ranch,” Carson said, his eyes drifting closed as his voice dropped to a whisper. “And that didn’t happen. I lost it. I lost it all.”
Adele held onto him, and Carson was glad for the tight grip of her arms around his back. It felt like she was holding him together in a crucial moment. “Have you ever wondered if maybe He thought you shouldn’t be there anymore?”
Instant anger flared inside him, cooling almost as fast as it had come. “I guess.”
“Just think about it,” she said, taking a step back and letting her hands linger on his arms. “If you still had the ranch in Montana, you wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met.”
And with that, she turned and went up the steps, unlocked her door, and disappeared inside.
Carson didn’t want to go back to his empty cabin, so he whistled for the dogs, and together, the three of them set off down the road. He craved the silence, the glow of the moon on the gravel in front of him, and the clarity of mind to truly consider what Adele had said.
Step by step, Carson realized that he too believed in God. He always had. He’d just lost his way for a while—was still wandering in strange paths.
“Help me,” he whispered into the night, feeling the spark of life coming back into him. Something hot burned in his chest where his heart had just been a lump for so long.
“I’m sorry,” he said next. “Help me find where I’m supposed to be.”
And for the first time in his almost forty years of life, Carson could envision a life of happiness somewhere other than Cobble Creek Ranch.
