by Jillian Neal
He’d just never imagined that she’d keep the the library open every day, and he didn’t have the heart to tell Hope that her job was actually costing them money. Her salary didn’t come close to the gas and wear and tear on the trucks it took them to drive her into town most everyday. Not to mention the time it took to do it. Right now, the library was the only thing his wife smiled over anymore, and she thought the money she was making was buying their groceries and the few things she wanted. He sure as hell wouldn’t ask her to quit. Wishing he could somehow be there with her more or make her want to be around him while he was working, he rubbed his temples and tried to come up with a way to make her smile again.
“Finally got something out of you. ‘Bout damn time. Get angry, Brock. Cuss me out, yell, do whatever, but then do some’um to fix what’s wrong. Hell, go beat the shit outta one of the trees, or Austin, God knows the boy needs some sense beat into him, but you bottling up whatever’s going on and her walking around like there’s glass under her feet that’s about to shatter ain’t doing nothing for nobody.”
“I know that.”
“Good. And I never meant to compare Hope to a cow, son. All I was sayin’ is everyone, human or animal, needs to feel like they got a place to call their own, and they need some time to adjust. Somewhere they feel safe and warm. Where they can be themselves without judgment from anyone else. Where they can just relax. I’m not sure Hope feels that on the ranch yet. She might need all of our help to get there. ‘Sted of being stubborn as an old mule, you might try to let us help where we can. We do have some experience living in this crazy-ass town in the middle of nowhere where the only thing that outnumbers the cows is inches of snow.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Might as well admit that along with all of his other shortcomings, he was also a piss-poor husband. She didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it, and he hadn’t had time to insist. Every time he tried to dive into the conversation, something else blew up in his face. Snow. Flat-tires. Sick calves. Downed fences. More snow. More feedings. It was unending.
“Your idea about talking to her tonight isn’t a bad one. Just don’t expect her to come around in one evening or one conversation. First year of marriage is tough. Be patient and listen to her even when she ain’t talkin’. There’s as many ways to right this as there are miles between our ranch and that beach.”
“Yeah,” Brock sighed. “I guess we’ll see how far I get tonight.”
Chapter Four
When she finished her shopping, Hope headed back to the library. While she was loading her groceries into the refrigerator in the back room, she heard the front door open. Finally! Someone wants to check out a book. She rushed back to the desk.
“Mrs. Camden! Thank goodness you’re here. I have several packages for you.” Miles the mailman loaded the desk up with several mailer envelopes and a small open box. His Coke-bottle glasses slid down his nose. He pushed them back in place and straightened his uniform. Her heart leapt to her throat. Her lingerie was probably right there in the box Miles had obviously opened.
“Oh, thank you, Miles.” Hope braced as she glanced at the box, but breath returned to her lungs a moment later. There wasn’t anything purple or lacey inside. There was a round of rope wound inside the box from the Orscheln Farm and Home store in Lincoln. “Um, I don’t think this was supposed to come to the library.” Checking the tag, she smiled. “This goes to Camden Ranch. I can take it for you when Natalie picks me up.”
“You know, I checked that package myself. I didn’t much know what you were planning on tying up here at the library, but I saw Camden on it. Must’a gotten confused.”
“It’s okay, Miles, but you know you’re not supposed to open packages not addressed to you, right?”
Suddenly, Miles snapped to. He gave her a salute with his right hand. "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."
“Uh, well, okay then.” Hope found herself nodding confusedly. Her right hand rose from her side to salute Miles back before she realized what she was about to do. Good Lord, half this town was crazy and they were taking her right along with them. “There wasn’t anything else addressed for the library was there? Maybe something you accidentally delivered to the wrong place?” Thoughts of her lingerie showing up at Merle’s Feed and Seed made her queasy.
“I’ll keep checking, but I do my best to get everyone their mail as soon as I can. Sometimes the stamping takes me a day or two.”
“The stamping?”
“Yes ma’am. Everything that comes into Pleasant Glen Post Office serving zip code 69358-7004 has to be stamped per federal regulation.”
A sense of impending doom as to the whereabouts of her lingerie purchase quickly welled in Hope’s veins. She nodded. “Well, uh … thank you … for working … so hard … I guess.”
Miles gave her another salute. “My pleasure, ma’am. For God and country.”
Brock stared down at the information about the three bulls he was considering. He made out most of the words successfully but was struggling with fine print. Hating having to ask for help, he withered further. He’d faithfully attended the Davis classes for dyslexia back at Gypsy Beach. Hope had helped him methodically work through the lessons to teach him to read, but he still struggled. Stop throwing yourself a fucking pity party and ask Grant what it says.
For the hundredth time that day alone, he wished Hope was with him. God, he missed her like crazy. Whenever he needed help reading anything, she never made him feel stupid. She just helped. Usually, he didn’t even have to ask. She always seemed to know when his dyslexia made something impossible to understand. He always wanted her with him. If he were being perfectly honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he’d let his cock takeover far too often when he was with her, though. Being with her was the only time he ever felt complete. She was everything. The way her body bowed back for him when she begged for him drove him wild. Her tight little pussy swollen pink and trembling against his sheer size. The taste of her juices, the way her breasts swayed to the rhythm of his cock as he made them one, that sweet gasp of need she always gave him on his first thrust made saliva flood his mouth. Being with her was a pleasure he’d never deserve.
But he had to stop pretending that sex would make her happy again. If that were going to work, surely it would’ve happened by now. They had to talk, but keeping his hands off of her was next to impossible. She was a drug he never wanted to quit. The shame he’d endured his entire life disappeared in the heady mix of their cum. Her love healed every blow he’d ever had to endure. When they were in bed together, she seemed happy and fulfilled. That was always his goal. He just needed to figure out how to keep her that way while he was out in the fields, and she was in that damn library day in and day out.
“They look good. That one in the back’ll make all the others jealous.” Grant joined him at the pen, laughing. Shaking himself, Brock blinked away the fantasies that so readily painted themselves in his mind. He swallowed down raw regret and remembered what he’d come to the sale to do. He was going to make Camden ranch more profitable than it had ever been before.
“Yeah, well, there’s no other animal on the planet with a higher degree of job satisfaction than a bull.” Brock joined his cousin’s laughter, though he felt nothing jovial at the moment. You’ve got a job to do, Camden. Focus. It’s all on you.
“Ain’t that the damned truth.” Grant grinned.
“I’ve got several heifers coming on early. They’ll be ready to sire sooner than later.” He made one more attempt at the tiny print at the bottom of the stat paper attached to the pen. It was hopeless. “Hey, what does that say?” Choking on his own pride, he pointed to the paperwork.
“Oh, yeah, let me see that. Sorry, I should’a offered, man.”
Brock bit his tongue to keep from informing his cousin that he should be able to read.
“You already know all of this. They’re ch
arging a shit-ton more for the one with an overloaded sac. You gotta load ‘um yourself and all that.”
Nodding, Brock scanned the ranchers until he located the owner of the bulls and headed his direction.
“Mr. Snyder, sir? Brock Camden.” Brock offered Snyder his hand.
Snyder narrowed his eyes. “You Mick Camden’s boy? You ain’t one a Ev’s.”
What small portion of Brock’s heart that remained intact after worrying over Hope for weeks sank rapidly to his feet. “Yeah,” he made no effort to hide his eye roll. “Mick’s my old man.”
An irritated grunt from Snyder let Brock know he was probably in for it. “Nice’a Ev to take you back in after what your daddy did.”
Irritation fed the ire already coursing through his veins. “I’m not my old man, never have been, never will be.”
“Oh yeah? That remains to be seen, don’t it?”
Brock refused to answer. “I’m interested in three bulls you got in the pen back there. We doing business or not?”
“Made the mistake of doing business with Mick once or twice. I’m still several thousand short. Don’t suppose you’re interested in paying his bills now are ya?”
“No, sir, I’m not. Like I said, I’m not my old man. You got an issue with Mick, you take it up with him.”
“I’ll sell ya the bulls long as the total includes the two thousand your daddy still owes me.”
“I’m not paying my father’s debts.” Feeling his biceps flex of their own accord, Brock clenched his fists, ordered himself not to sink them in Snyder’s smug face, and walked away.
Chapter Five
At 3:00, Hope scanned the road in front of the library again, looking for either Miles with her lingerie or Natalie to take her back home. She needed to get the chicken in the oven if she was going to have time to roast it and get everything ready for dinner before Brock got back from the bull sale.
Irritation tensed her jaw. Brock had promised to teach her to drive soon. That would make life infinitely easier. Her patience was just running a little thin after her encounters with well-groomed poodles and the grocery store bitches.
Before Hope could let her annoyance take firm hold, Natalie burst through the door. “You ready? We had a fence come down under the weight of the snow. Mama and I had to get it fixed since Luke’s looking after one of the horses that’s acting weird. I need to get back.”
Hope narrowed her eyes but refused to take her day out on Natalie, even if her need for everyone to think she was important was rude and annoying. “I’m sorry you had to pick me up. I can drive in this. How else am I going to learn if I never get the chance?”
“I’m glad to see you show some spunk, finally. Family’s afraid you’ll end up freezing in a ditch somewhere. Brock’s got enough to worry about without having to cart you around, too.”
Brock’s got enough to worry about. The statement branded itself into Hope’s skull. She picked up the groceries from the back room and followed Natalie out to Aunt Jessie’s Suburban.
She tried to watch how Natalie handled the SUV. It didn’t seem terribly difficult until they got to the narrow dirt road that led to the ranch. That took some skill. Hope tried to remember her driver’s ed classes in high school. All she remembered was Coach Meyers shouting at her because she’d been terrified to merge onto the interstate and had stopped on the on-ramp.
You’re not 16 anymore. Get over yourself. Determined to learn to take care of herself without anyone’s help, Hope went on with her plan. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I need to see Dr. Moore, just for a check-up, nothing’s wrong. How do I get there exactly?”
“Mama’s got a bunch of prescriptions and stuff saved up at the house. She might could save you a trip.”
“I need a prescription refilled.” Hope offered no other information.
“Oh, well, Doc’s office is about a mile past that little parcel of land that the McElroy’s bought from the Henson’s when they moved to Lincoln last year. You just stay on the main drag, and you’ll see it. Normally, you don’t need an appointment or anything. Just show up.”
“Okay, I might do that tomorrow after work. I can get myself to town though. It’s no trouble.”
Natalie made no effort to hide her eye roll. “You might have to. Just take it easy. They aren’t calling for any more snow ‘til Sunday. Shouldn’t be too bad. I’m going to help out at the shelter. Brock’ll be busy with the new bulls. Holly’s due in tomorrow afternoon. She’s spending the weekend at home. You could wait on her.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. Just needed directions. So, if I stay on the main drag, will I see the doctor’s office first or the land you were talking about?”
“Both. One then the other.” The gleam in Natalie’s eyes said she was being purposefully difficult.
“Thanks.” Hope clenched her jaw. She’d locate it herself.
A smile readily replaced her frown when her cell phone rang from her purse. “Hey.” She tried not to sound sappy in front of Natalie, but was thrilled Brock was calling.
“Hey, sweetie. We got held up loading the bulls, but we’re on our way now. I’ll have to get ‘um penned when we get back, but then I’ll be in. I promise. I’ll be there for our dinner.”
“It’s okay. We’re just turning off for the ranch now. I’ll start cooking, but it’ll take everything a while.”
“Uh … maybe we could talk while it’s cooking. I miss you. I love you so much, darlin’. Something doesn’t seem quite right lately.”
Her heart tripped over the next several beats. He’d just said he loved and missed her in the presence of his uncle or his cousins. She beamed, but didn’t want him to worry about her. “I love you, too. I can’t wait to see you. I’m fine, really.” Glancing uncomfortably at Natalie, she lowered her voice as an idea sprang to her mind. Maybe they could extend the night she had planned. “Maybe we could spend the day together tomorrow. I think it would be okay if I didn’t open the library for one day. I really miss you, too.” It’s not like anyone ever comes into the library, anyway. We could make the night last into tomorrow, just like we used to in Gyspy Beach.
A moment’s hopefulness immediately drowned in Brock’s regret-filled huff of breath. “I’ll try my damnedest, okay? Let me get the bulls set and chores done tomorrow morning. Then we’ll see.”
“Okay, that sounds good.”
“I’ll see you in a little while. I love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.” Hope ended the call, grinning. If it didn’t snow anymore, maybe his morning chores wouldn’t take too long, then they could spend the day together.
“You shouldn’t ask him to do stuff like that.” Natalie’s harsh tone shattered through the momentary optimism and contentment Brock’s call had afforded her.
“What?” Irked that Natalie was listening in to her conversation, Hope bit her lip to keep from saying more.
“Asking him to take the day off means more work for all of us. Ranching isn’t a 9 to 5, with two-weeks vacation, Hope. Not sure why you haven’t figured that out yet. You don’t live on a beach anymore. Brock’s trying to support you, and you aren’t really helping.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hope clenched her jaw until her molars began to ache and willed the Suburban to move faster.
“It means that these are living breathing animals, and all of our existence depends on them. They aren’t books in your bookstore. If you decide not to open up the store one day, animals don’t die. Brock can’t just up and decide not to feed his herds. Life out here isn’t for the weak.”
Tears stung Hope’s eyes, but she refused to cry in front of Natalie. She also refused to speak to her anymore. She should have known better than to have asked Brock that in front of Natalie. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut?
Hope made a break for the cottage as soon as she was dropped off. She halted suddenly when she encountered a wayward cow blocking the path to th
e door.
Swallowing down fear, she took two steps backwards. “You’re supposed to be out in the fields.”
The cow stared at her, unimpressed.
The fence. A fence had come down in the weight of the snow. The cow must’ve gotten out. You live on a cattle ranch, Hope. There are going to be cows. She knew this. She just hadn’t quite learned how to deal with them yet. Summoning courage, she edged towards the huge animal, intent on walking around her and making it to the front door, but in that moment the cow bellowed and headed Hope’s way.
Panic surged through her veins. Her right foot slipped on a patch of icy dirt, and a yelp made it out of her mouth as she tried to steady herself. With one additional step, she slipped and landed hard on her backside. Pain ricocheted through her hips and embarrassment drove the hot tears out of her eyes. She’d instinctively tried to catch herself, and now her wrists ached and her gloves were soaked. A half-second later, she realized it wasn’t ice-covered dirt she was sitting in, it was ice-covered manure. She fought not to vomit. The cow looked on, unamused.
The groceries had tumbled out of the sacks she was carrying, and the chicken had careened into a small pile of snow nearby. Momentarily debating sitting there and having a good cry, she suddenly recalled a scene from that old Christmas movie where the kid stuck his tongue to the flagpole. Visions of Natalie laughing haughtily while she pried Hope’s hip out of a pile of half-frozen cow shit had her deciding to get up before the snow melted completely through her jeans.
Carefully, she got to her hands and knees, swallowing down bile as she stared into a pile of manure. She managed to stand, rescued the wayward chicken, and slammed the door once she made it inside the house.
Fury shot through her veins. Natalie and her bitchiness, Mrs. Bellamy and her insanity, Miles the inept mailman, the poodle-grooming beauty shop. It was just all too much.
