by Jess Bentley
“Well, there’s no need of anybody leaving,” I answered quickly, imagining not only losing two of the most important people on this ranch, but realizing that my ranch and I were standing in the way of their happiness. Somebody should end up with the fairy tale around here, even if it didn’t look like it would be me. “Just tell her I said she’s fired, then she won’t have to worry about me anymore!”
“Oh, don’t do that now, boss! She’ll have my head!” Remy said, horrified.
“I’m kidding, you old goat. You know I could never get by without either one of you around here. But if it helps, you have my word that it wouldn’t be any burden at all if she did a little less looking after me.”
“I can’t wait to try to find a way to work that into the conversation, but in the meantime, if your visitor was to come back to look after you, maybe Mrs. Claire wouldn’t feel the need to dote on your twenty-four-seven? Hmmmmm?”
“You absolutely suck at trying to be slick about these things. I’m afraid Meredith must not have taken too big a shine to this place. She headed back to Chicago this morning.” I chugged the last of my water and dropped the bottle back into the cooler, then wiped my face with my bandana. The foreman stood staring at me, open-mouthed.
“Wait a minute… Chicago. That was Meredith Forbes? Old Daniel’s little girl?”
I nodded, confused. Remy looked around at the crewmembers then lowered his voice. “You know he’s going to beat the skin off your bones with a horsewhip if he finds out she stayed out here! What were you thinking?!”
“First off, she’s a grown woman. Her daddy doesn’t go around kicking the crap outta boys who get sweet on her,” I answered, laughing at the older man’s worry. Then I narrowed my eyes, staring Remy down and pinning him back with a warning glare. “And sadly, she won’t be back anytime soon, or at least not that she told me. The only way this would get back to Daniel was if somebody decided to make it the talk of the town.”
“Well now, you know that wouldn’t be me. And I know it wouldn’t escape outta Mrs. Claire, she only told me because we both work for you. But boss… what about you?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” I stammered, looking away.
“Don’t try that with me, boy… I mean, boss!” he said, punching me lightly in the shoulder. “I’ve worked here since your grandfather ran the place, he gave me a job when I just twelve years old. I worked here all through the years your daddy ran this ranch, and I used to see how you’d follow her around, pretending to tease her or pull her hair or pull some prank on her with that brother of hers. You sure paid a whole lotta mind to that little girl all those years for someone who doesn’t know what I’m getting at.”
I didn’t respond, but his assessment of it all brought a little smile to my face. I’d always cared about Meredith, but it’s just because I always thought she’d be around. It never once crossed my mind that she’d up and leave Texas, turning her back on all this. I came home from the war and found out that she was not only gone… she’d been gone.
“Well, even if you’re right, there’s not much I can do about it now. She’s got her whole life out there, while I’m down here. It hurts some, but it can’t be helped.” I kicked at a rock with the toe of my boot, watching it roll away sadly. That’s why I never saw Remy raise his hand, draw back his arm, and swing at me with his rolled up hat.
“Hey! What the heck, old man? What was that for?” I asked, bending over to pick up my hat where he’d knocked it off my head.
“Don’t be a fool! That girl’s been gone for less than a day, and you’re pining like some guy stole your girl! Go after her, boss!”
“Look, this isn’t the movies. The dumb cowboy just doesn’t ride up and sweep the city girl off her feet. It doesn’t work that way.” I looked away, aware that a few of the guys were watching us after hearing Remy’s outburst.
“First off, you’re not a ‘dumb cowboy’ and she’s only playing at ‘city girl.’ She’s every bit as Texas as you are! Now go get her.” Remy stared back at me with the wisest expression I’d ever seen, and had me just about convinced. Could I really do such a thing? Just take off and go after her?
Why not, I thought. It’s not like I don’t have twenty different ways to get to Chicago…
“I can’t walk away at this point in the project,” I tried feebly, gesturing to the crates and exposed equipment. “If we don’t get it installed, the solar farm…”
“Boss… Colton…” he said, and I stopped dead at the sound of my real name.
Remy had stopped calling me by my name the day my dad died, and no matter how many times I’d tried to get him to stop elevating me to “boss man,” he’d refused, saying it wasn’t his place. Now, when it mattered to him most, it was like being pulled back to my childhood, to every single time the old foreman had helped me rope a calf, shoe a horse, and hoist a bale of hay onto my shoulder. It was more like coming home than anything else had felt in a long time.
“Colton, this project isn’t going anywhere. The sun’s been up there for billions of years, it’ll stay put for another few days, I promise. Now get in the house, get showered up, and go after that girl. I got things under control here.” He planted his hands on his hips and looked at me as if daring me to argue with him.
I paused, feeling almost hopeful for a second. That thought evaporated just as quickly as it had come on. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? Maybe she only remembers the boy who pulled her pigtails and put salt in her lemonade.”
“Then you’ll have your work cut out for you trying to convince her that you’ve grown up as much as she has. And who knows, maybe this is the dumbest idea we’ve ever had between us? She could slam the door in your face and send you right back to the farm you rolled off of. But that way, at least you’ll know. You won’t spend the rest of your life wondering if it could happened for you two, not the way I’ve had to do.”
I stared at him, sensing that there was more to this story. Remy looked away, then continued speaking in a soft, far away voice.
“I done made that mistake myself, boss. I’ve loved Mrs. Claire since we were both young. And I never did speak up about it. There was a time or two that I thought maybe she was waiting for me to say something, that maybe she felt the same way. But I never mustered the courage, and I gotta admit, it was always this ranch that was my excuse. I didn’t have time for young ladies, not when there was work to be done. Even in the dead of winter when there were no crops to fuss with and the bulk of the herd had already been trucked off to market for the year, I always found an excuse to be too busy. I guess one day she decided I was never gonna make time for her, because next thing I know, she’s marrying Jimmy Claire. And I’d missed my chance.”
He looked back at me and put a hand on my shoulder, another gesture that he’d done away with ever since I’d stepped in as the owner of the ranch. He looked me square in the eye.
“Don’t let this slip by. It was no accident that she showed up for an interview. She could have told that fancy magazine that she couldn’t do it, that she knew you too well. But she didn’t. She also could have hopped on a plane, flown down here, had it all said and done and wrapped up in an hour. But she didn’t do that either. I think there’s a part of her—and maybe she didn’t even know it—that just wanted to come home for a while. Help her find her way home, boss.”
Remy stepped back and turned away, then held two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly.
“Break’s over!” he called, and shuffled off to get the crew back to work. I watched him go, realizing once again how this ranch was in good hands with him around, then raced back towards the house to get ready.
Chapter 12
Meredith
Rain, wine, and a trip down memory lane don’t mix, I decided, after my second glass. I’d spent the afternoon going through the pictures of Colt’s house, the barn, and the rest of the ranch. They were damn good, too good to be wasted in a magazine that only rich people and archit
ecture students bought. But that magazine paid the bills, for now at least. If Diana ever heard about my moment or two of weakness, I’d be done for.
I’d had an entire flight back to Chicago to figure out the truth: it was more than just a moment of weakness. It was something I had dreamed about since I was a little girl. He was every bit a fixture of home as my own house.
Now, I was sitting on the living room floor of my apartment, going through a very different set of pictures. I’d tried to dig up some original photos of the old ranch house to show the renovations side by side in the article. After finding two or three great photos of the porch and the living room with its stone fireplace, I’d happened on picture after picture of Colt and my brother…and me.
At first the pictures were a pleasant surprise, and a few of them were even funny. By the time I reached the bottom of the box, I’d been struck by an unbelievable thought, one that had never crossed my mind until that very moment: Colt had been a big part of my life back then. More then just my brother’s friend. More than just a little crush.
There were dozens of photos of the two boys spread out over the antique steamer trunk that served as my coffee table, and scattered among them were just as many pictures of the three of us together. Riding horses, fishing in the stream, walking on the split rail fence like it was a tightrope, going to 4H competitions and rodeos. But there were just as many pictures of just Colt and me, obviously taken by Bryant with his 35mm camera or snapped by my mom while we were doing something goofy. In all of them, Colt is looking at me, never the camera. Whether I was proudly holding up a skinny little fish on the end of my hook or waving from the back of a horse, he was looking at me every time.
Colt had always been a part of my life, but the twisted way I remembered things as an adult meant I now looked back on him as just my brother’s friend. Not my friend. And certainly nothing more. But these pictures told a different story, one where his life and mine had been so intertwined that we might as well have been one big family instead of the Stones and the Forbes.
I loved him. I always had. And while I’d somehow managed to convince myself he was just being nice to Bryant’s kid sister, these long-forgotten photos told a different story. I was guilty of not allowing myself to imagine something I never knew I had, and then when I finally got my hands on him, I’d walked away like he didn’t matter.
There weren’t enough tissues in my cramped apartment to handle the hours of sobbing. I’d finally resorted to toilet paper, and when that got dangerously low I switched to trying to control the flood with paper towels. The end result was a messy pile of emotional carnage, the evidence of which surrounded me like a sopping wet barricade.
It was only because I needed to breathe that I heard a knock on my door. It’d be just like my neighbors to come complain that I was heartbreaking too loudly. The nerve of coming up here to complain only switched my sadness to fury, and I flung open the door ready to go toe-to-toe.
“You’ve got some ner— Colt,” I said, my voice fading to a whisper.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him, looking almost unrecognizable. His jeans and boots had been replaced by khakis and loafers, and his plaid button up shirt was gone, replaced by a starched white shirt. The only thing that remained of the Colt I knew was his typical gentlemanly white t-shirt beneath. His hair, while still threatening to turn unruly at a moment’s notice, was brushed back from his face, giving him the appearance of a sinner on his way to church.
“Colt, what’s this? You look… you sure don’t look like the cowboy I know. What are you—” I started to ask.
He took one step towards me and wrapped me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest. He looked at my wide eyes for a second, obviously judging my reaction, before kissing me hard.
I practically fell against him, so relieved to feel him close to me again. Even as my mind was swimming with questions, I blocked all thought and just tasted him, remembering how this had felt only a day ago. I held my lips to his like we were made for each other. The few hours since I’d felt him hold me felt like so much longer, like weeks had passed instead of hours.
“Wait just a second, I don’t understand,” I finally asked, pulling away when the questions became too much. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t just let you go, Meredith. Not after you’d finally come all the way home.” He brushed my hair back from my face, taking in the sight of my swollen, bloodshot eyes with a mixture of confusion and worry. “You’ve been crying… because of me?”
“Yeah,” I admitted after scrambling for some plausible excuse. It was almost a relief to admit it, and my whole body slumped with the confession.
“But why? You’re the one who left.”
Instead of an accusation, it was followed up with the softest kiss on my forehead, his arms encircling me even tighter.
“Because I can’t have you. You’re my brother’s friend, and my work assignment, and your life is back there on the ranch, working your family’s land. It all doesn’t work together, it just doesn’t line up.” I rambled on, and then gave up trying with a tearful sigh.
“Darlin’, none of that matters, least not to me. Besides, how could your family be put out by us being together? Who else could your family want for you than someone they’ve known their whole life? There’s no way they’d rather see you with a stranger you met off in the city, or some far-flung country where you were working. And once your article is finished, there’s no one to say that we can’t be together.”
“Meredith,” he said, taking my chin with his fingertips and lifting my face to meet the most sincere look I’d ever seen, “I can’t let you go. I never really understood that, but I’d already let you go so many times over the years. It took watching you get in that car and leave to know what I’d done. But I’ve come to ask you to reconsider. I’ll beg, if that’s what it takes…”
The corners of my mouth turned up slightly at the thought of Colt begging on his knees for me to be his, and he took my smile for reassurance. He kissed me again, walking me backwards and closing my apartment door behind him. We’d made it a few feet before I bumped into the coffee table, jolting us back to reality.
“What’s this?” Colt asked, looking down over my shoulder. I turned and was flooded with embarrassment. The evidence of my pity party was scattered all over the floor, but that wasn’t what had caught his eye.
He stepped around me and picked up a picture from the table, holding it closer to examine it. His eyes squinted slightly, then his face lit up.
“Oh my god, I remember this!” he said softly, a hint of amazement in his voice. He bent and picked up another photo, and then another, turning them over to see the dates that had been penciled in by hand on the back. “You’ve had these all this time? Look, there’s my dad in this one!”
I hurried to look, kicking myself for not having thought of it sooner. Of course his father would be in at least a few of the photos, his grandfather, too. He must miss them terribly.
“These are just…incredible. I had no idea you’d hung onto them. Look, there we all are having dinner. I remember this, it was the Fourth of July and we’d all gone down to the lake for the day. It was such a great day.” His voice trailed off as the memory took root in his mind, but he finally whispered, “God Meredith, you were beautiful even back then.”
He turned to look at me, hunger in his eyes. “You were always so beautiful… and I love you. I always have. I see the shy, knobby-kneed boy in this picture and I remember how much he loved to see you walking up the road, sent over on your bicycle on some errand for your mama, or just coming to spend the afternoon out there.”
It was all I could do to keep breathing, let alone reply. With every passing second, Colt’s happy smile began to falter, certain that I didn’t feel the same way. But without the right words, I answered the only way I could: I kissed him hard, clinging to his shirtsleeves as though I couldn’t stand the thought of ever letting go.
&nbs
p; Without separating us, Colt fumbled behind him, lowering us both to the couch. He pulled me onto his lap and held me close as I invited his kiss, thrilling in the steady, desperate stroking of his tongue against mine. The feeling sent a feverish shockwave through me, and I wondered if it would ever not feel new like this. I wrapped both arms around behind him until he was close enough to make me believe this was all real.
I reached for the buttons on his starched shirt, opening them one by one. Before his scars were exposed, I was afraid he would stop me like he had that first night. Instead, he shrugged out of the shirt and reached behind his neck to pull his undershirt off, then slid my old college sweatshirt off over my head and let it land in a pile on the floor. He held me, our chests pressed together, sharing the warmth between us, before leaning me back until my elbows rested on the trunk behind me.
He lavished my nipples with his scorching mouth while I let my head fall back, savoring the wet sensation of his tongue swirling in circles around each one. I twined my fingers with his and guided his hand up to my breast, kneading the soft flesh with his hands beneath mine. I could have stayed that way for hours, but Colt had better plans.
“This isn’t why I came,” he started to say. “I just had to… I needed to see you. But you’re so damn beautiful.” He pulled me up to sit on his lap, then turned until I fell back against the sofa, resting my head on a throw pillow. Within seconds he’d shed the khakis and fancy shoes, then finished undressing me.
Nestled between my thighs, Colt drove into me. The night at the ranch, we had been rough blinded with our own needs, followed by playful the next morning. But this was frantic, almost desperate, as if the time apart had made life that much shorter. My hips rose to meet his thrusts as Colt sat up on his knees, clutching my ass beneath me and pulling me against him. His cock filled me completely and I arched my back with the desire to somehow take even more.
My first moan only made him quiver inside me, but as I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting, he picked up the pace, pulling almost all the way out and grinding in for more with every movement of his hips.
