by Liz Isaacson
“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.” Her heart raced like it was a car in the Indianapolis 500.
“You don’t want it?” John frowned at her. “You can’t stay at Brush Creek Elementary.”
“I don’t want to.”
He settled back into his chair. “Then what?”
Her lungs squeezed as they worked to bring in oxygen. “John, I’m going to retire.”
His eyebrows surged toward his hairline. “Retire?”
“I have twelve years with the district. I looked up the policy. I can retire with ten.”
“You’ll get almost no benefit.” He seemed genuinely concerned.
Shannon thought of Grant, the horse ranch, the three dogs they owned between them and how they frolicked through the fields. “I’ll get what I earned,” she said. “This is what I want.”
He didn’t move a muscle, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. “Are you sure?”
Shannon’s pulse quieted. She settled back into her chair too, as calm as she’d ever been. “I am absolutely sure.”
She hadn’t talked about this particular scenario with Grant, but such a sense of calm cascaded over her that she knew she’d made the right decision. For her. For him. For them.
Thank you, she thought, a smile dressing her lips. She had never been as happy as she was in that moment. She leapt to her feet. She needed to talk to Grant, now. “Are we finished?”
John reached for his phone and picked it up. “Sarah, can you get the retirement application for Shannon Sharpe? I’m sending her out now.” He sighed and stood. “It’s been a pleasure working with you Shannon. Don’t be a stranger.” He came around the desk and walked her to his office door before he shook her hand.
Shannon practically floated out of the office and out to her car. She itched to call Grant, but she wanted to be with him when she told him, see his eyes light up, feel his hands on her waist as he swung her around and laughed into the chilled blue sky.
A half an hour had passed before she made it to Grant’s cabin, and even then he wasn’t there. Forced to text him, she said, Can you talk for a minute?
He didn’t answer right away, and she couldn’t wait around in the winter temperatures, so she headed back to her car. Tess stepped out onto her porch and called, “Shannon. You wanna come in?”
Shannon changed directions and entered Tess’s cabin. She liked the petite blonde who packed a punch, and she slid her a grateful smile as she stepped into the warmth. “Thanks.”
“You’re not working today?” Tess closed the door behind her as the scent of chocolate and cinnamon filled Shannon’s senses.
“Sort of.” Shannon rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glancing into the kitchen to find oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. “How’s the wedding cake practice coming?”
“Ohh.” Tess exhaled. “I had to take a break from it. I’ll get it before April fourth, I swear.” She wore a look of anxiety.
Shannon giggled and moved toward the cookies. “I don’t even care about the cake.”
Tess grinned and joined Shannon in the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s just about the man, right?”
“Right. I should just run away to Evanston and get married in City Hall.” She bumped Tess with her hip and picked up two cookies. Her phone beeped, and she saw a text from Grant.
Sure. Want me to call you?
Can you come to your cabin? She sent the text and bit into a cookie.
You’re at my cabin?
With cookies.
On my way.
“Can I take a couple of these?” She gestured toward the cookies.
“Something going on?”
Shannon couldn’t help grinning and grinning. “I quit my job today.” She danced toward the front door and escaped before Tess could say anything else.
Grant reacted in exactly the way Shannon had hoped, and she didn’t end up going back to the school that afternoon but took to hanging out in the cattle area, her hands stuck in one of Grant’s big coats, watching him work. It was the best afternoon of her life.
Chapter Sixteen
The sky was the shade of sapphires when Grant exited his cabin on his wedding day. The air smelled like fresh rain and pollen, and he couldn’t remember a day as glorious as this one. He shouldered his garment bag and tossed it onto the bench seat next to him.
“Are you ready?”
The sound of Landon’s voice made Grant turn. “Very ready.” It had been a very long ten months since he’d gotten back together with Shannon. Well, not long in a bad way. He enjoyed spending time with her, holding her, listening to her talk, supporting her through her workload at school.
But he really wanted her on the ranch full time. He wanted to wake up next to her, and kiss her without any of her pieces in place. He couldn’t wait for the end of the school year, because it meant she wouldn’t have to go back, something he knew she desperately wanted. He’d already started planning the last day of school surprise, and he was glad he wouldn’t have to do another one.
“I’m happy for you.” Landon stepped toward him and man-clapped him on the back before pulling him into a proper hug. “You deserve her.”
How he knew exactly what to say, Grant didn’t know. But Landon usually did. “Are you coming with me?”
“That was the plan.”
“Get in, then. I don’t want to be late to my own wedding.” Grant drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel on the way down the canyon, and he parked in the nearest possible spot to the entrance of the red brick church. Shannon’s car was already there, and his heart leapt once, twice, three times.
He was marrying Shannon Sharpe today. A smile took over his whole face, and he whistled as he entered the church. An hour later, he was on the edge of impatience and about to stride down the hall to the bride’s room and demand to know what was taking Shannon so long.
Landon guided him to the front of the chapel, where the preacher stood at the altar. Family and friends had already gathered, including Hannah and Shannon’s mother, who had been in town for a week already. Grant turned away from everyone, his stomach churning. He met Pastor Peters’ eyes, and the kindness shining there calmed him.
“I just met with her,” he said. “She’ll be out any minute.” The pastor smiled. “Are you ready for your bride?”
Grant chuckled, releasing all the nerves. “I don’t know, sir. Is one ever ready for a beautiful woman?”
The pastor tipped his head back and laughed, the sound loud and quiet at the same time. “You’re a wise man, Grant,” Pastor Peters said. He nodded toward the back of the chapel, and Grant spun to find Shannon standing there, every single piece in its exact right place.
His limbs felt like dead weight, and numbness spread outward from his core. Shannon moved forward one agonizingly slow step at a time. Grant thought sure she’d never reach him, and then there she was, slipping her arm into his and beaming at him with the force of the sun.
He thought he should’ve said something about how beautiful she was, how the dress she wore fit her like a glove and was simply stunning, but his tongue felt huge inside his mouth. Her demeanor dimmed, and a question entered her eyes.
Grant thawed and grinned at her. “I’m so happy.”
Her brightness returned, and she stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Me too.”
“No kissing until after the ceremony,” Pastor Peters chided, and a low laugh ran through the crowd.
“We are gathered here this morning to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” The pastor gave his speech, and Grant enjoyed his words as he spoke about loving and cherishing each other.
When he said, “There will be hard times,” Grant stood a little taller. He could weather stormy situations. Shannon’s fingers tightened in his.
“I advise you to cleave unto one another in those times. Don’t rely on outside sources. Find joy and solace at home, and always confide in each other. That’s how you’ll make it through the tough times on your journey through this li
fe.”
With that done, the pastor proceeded to marry them, ending with, “All right, Grant. You can kiss your bride now.”
Grant obliged, his smile so huge he almost couldn’t form his mouth to Shannon’s. She giggled, and so great was her joy that Grant felt it infect the very air around him. Landon whooped, and the rest of the crowd came alive too.
Grant laughed then, and ducked down the aisle and out of the church amidst a flurry of bubbles that Shannon’s school kids blew. His truck had been properly smeared with shaving cream and streamers, with his and Shannon’s luggage in the back. He helped her inside, making sure the skirts of her dress wouldn’t get shut in the door, and then positioned himself behind the wheel.
He looked at Shannon. Leaned over and kissed her. “We did it.”
“We sure did.”
He started the truck and put it in gear, honking at his cowboy friends and their ranch wives before pulling onto the road that led out of town. “And now, we’re going to Hawai’i.”
“Seven days on the beach.” Shannon scooted over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Grant.”
Gratitude accompanied the grin that sprang to his face. He said, “I love you too, sweetheart,” glad he’d taken that chance on the two of them.
THE END
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Sneak Peek! FINDING LOVE AT STEEPLE RIDGE Chapter One
Ben Buttars thundered down the stairs, a bit of dust rising into the air from his boots. Or maybe that was from the wooden stairs that hadn’t been swept in a while. The boss hired a maid service that came in twice a month, but once spring thawed and all the mud dried to dirt, not even a daily cleaning could keep the two-story house dust-free.
“Something smells good,” his oldest brother, Sam, said as he pushed through the back door and into the kitchen, where Ben had just entered. He snatched a pair of oven mitts from the counter and opened the door to a blast of heat.
Ben flinched away lest he get burned. “Soft pretzels. Your afternoon snack.” He grinned, though the memory of his mother always came with the sight and smell of the last snack she’d made for him before she died. Ben had perfected her recipe over the past ten years.
“Mustard?” Sam bent to look in the fridge.
“Already on the counter. Ketchup too.” Ben slid the sheet tray onto the stovetop and gazed down at the perfectly browned snack.
“No one eats ketchup on pretzels,” Sam said.
“I do.” Ben tossed him a grin just as both of their phones sounded. He groaned while Sam simply checked his without any alarm on his face. But Ben was supposed to have the afternoon off before meeting with the recreational director about…something his boss had seemed deliberately dodgy about. And he’d been planning to stuff himself silly with salty pretzels and ketchup.
“Horses out above pasture six,” Sam said, lifting his eyes to Ben’s. Out of his three brothers, Ben looked the most like Sam—the most like their father, who’d had eyes the color of russet potato skins and hair several shades darker than that. The twins, who sat in between Ben and Sam, had lighter hair and their mother’s darker eyes. All four boys had freckles and broad shoulders and a love for the outdoors.
Only Ben had been a minor when their parents had passed away. Only Ben had been forced to leave high school before he’d graduated. Only Ben hadn’t dated someone in the last decade.
“Right now?” he asked, and he hated that it sounded more like a whine than a question.
“Right now.” Sam started toward the back door, smashing his cowboy hat lower onto his head.
“But the pretzels—”
“They’ll keep.” Sam’s voice filtered back toward him just before the screen door slammed. Frustration threaded through Ben. “They’ll keep” was Sam’s standard answer for everything.
What should we do with Mom and Dad’s stuff?
It’ll keep.
Shouldn’t we go back to Wyoming? Sell the house?
It’ll keep.
Ben cast one last look at the steaming pretzels—which would be ten times better hot—before following his brother out of the house they shared. The blue May sky of Vermont stretched before him, the barns and public parking areas of Steeple Ridge Farm just steps from the house.
The pastures, however, lay to the north and west, in the same direction of the wooded area where Ben liked to let his horse wander after a long day of farm work. He strode toward the back barn, where they housed the farm’s horses, including his mare, Willow.
Her dark brown coat glistened, because Ben took immaculate care of her. He’d allow dust in the house, but certainly not on his horse. “All right, girl,” he said as he put the saddle on and cinched it. “Let’s do this quickly, okay? Because I made pretzels.” He led the horse out of the barn and swung onto her back.
Steeple Ridge boarded horses, and the five they had from a barn in northern New York had been nothing but trouble since they’d arrived last week. They seemed to have a knack for finding—or creating—weaknesses in fences and running wild through the woods until they came to the stream.
Bracken ferns grew there, and these New York horses seemed to have developed a taste for it, though if they ate enough of it they could experience a loss of nerve function. As the manager of the boarding stable, Sam didn’t much want to return nerve-damaged horses to the New York clients. With hot pretzels still on his mind, saving the horses from their own fern obsession was a toss-up for Ben.
He joined his brothers and they spread out into the woods, ropes at the ready. The owners of the farm, Tucker and Missy Jenkins, had gone into town to purchase supplies for the upcoming weekend barbeque, or they’d be saddled up and rope-ready too.
Ben whistled as he ducked under a tree branch. A rustling sound to his left drew his attention, and he had one of the New York devil-horses roped a few seconds later. One of them, though, eluded all the brothers until finally Ben couldn’t take it anymore.
“How about I take these four back?” he asked Sam, trying to make it sound like he didn’t care if he went or not. But he feared that if he didn’t go in the next five minutes, he wouldn’t even have time to scarf down a single bite of pretzel before his meeting with the recreational director.
He searched his memory for her name but came up blank. While he and his brothers had arrived at Steeple Ridge at the end of last summer, he didn’t get into town for much more than church. And even then, he didn’t always attend.
There was something soothing and peaceful about the woods, and sometimes the Sabbath simply found him communing with nature, which allowed him to feel closer to God. It had taken him a good five years to accept that God was still loving, still wise and omnipotent, after his parents’ plane crash. Sometimes being outside with only trees, birds, and sky reminded him of God’s power better than anything a pastor could say.
“Go on, then,” Sam said. “Darren, you stay with me. Logan, help ‘im get those horses properly secured. Lots of water.”
In another situation, Ben might have asked if his brother thought any of the horses had already consumed something poisonous out in the woods, but today, he didn’t. He simply set Willow toward the farm and urged her to go a little faster than he would have normally.
“Is there a fire?” Logan asked, coming up beside him.
“I made pretzels,” Ben said.
Logan laughed, a big, boisterous sound that filled the sky with noise—and Ben’s blood with annoyance. “You and your pretzels.”
“I don’t see you complaining when you eat them.” Ben nudged Willow again and she almost picked up her trot.
“Nope,” Logan said. “Never will. I don’t know how you get them so stretchy and crispy at the same time. It’s amazing.”
Some of the tension drained from Ben’s shoulders, and he grinned at his next oldest brother.
“Ah, spicy brown mustard,” Logan said. “We have some, right?”
“Dunno.” Sam did all the grocery shopping for the brothers. “If you put it on the list at some point, I’m sure we do.”
They arrived back on the farm and got the horses brushed down and properly secured in their box stalls. By the time Ben had Willow safe and secure, the very idea of a pretzel had faded to a dot on the horizon. Because he was now late for his appointment.
Sure enough, when he exited the barn, a shiny black sedan sat in the public parking lot. The car looked like it had never been on a farm.
“There you are.”
He turned at the feminine voice to find a tall, athletic brunette striding away from the house and toward him. She’d definitely never been on a farm either. Ben drank in the length of her legs, very aware of the pinch of interest in his chest. Her dark brown ponytail swung from side to side, and Ben wondered what her hair would feel like between his fingers.
He swallowed. This woman was so far out of his league, he couldn’t even get there in a rocket ship. She paused a healthy distance from him, cocked her hip, and folded her arms. “Which one of you is Ben?”
He glanced at Logan, who wore an expression of half-horror, half-surprise. “He is.” Logan hooked his thumb at Ben and walked toward the house. Once he’d passed the beautiful woman, he turned back and beamed for all he was worth, lifting both arms in victory. “I’ll save you a pretzel!” he called before turning around and hurrying into the house.
Ben waved at him like it was no big deal, that pretzels didn’t matter at all That river of desire built into something bigger even as he tried to tame it. “I’ve forgotten your name,” he said. “Missy told me, but.” He laughed, the sound so full of nerves he wondered how his brothers had ever figured out how to talk to a woman, hold hands with a woman, kiss a woman. Not that they dated all that much, but Sam had had a girlfriend or two, and Logan was definitely a charmer. He could talk to women all day, and Ben had watched him do it, trying to discover the secret. So far, he hadn’t figured much out.
