“It’s fine, tell me. I want to know the truth.” I do, but I strengthen my armor in preparation.
Luke sighs and continues. “Pops felt like Paul was getting sweet on Mama. He was probably just lonely, and she was around and helping, filling the role that your mom had. It’s only natural, I guess. But Pops put a stop to that real quick. It was hard for Mama to back away from you kids. I know she liked all four of you, but she had to because of your dad.” He squeezes me, and it feels like an apology, though he has nothing to be sorry for. The guys were just teenagers then, lost in the world our parents created for us.
“Then after Pops died, Paul showed up and tried to buy the ranch from us.” I feel his flinch beneath my cheek as he swallows. “I think he made some moves on Mama then, but she’s never said whether he was pushy about it.”
“He . . . that’s low,” I admit.
“But she said she’s only loved one man in her life and that she will always love only Pops. When that didn’t work, he came after us boys. We shut him down fast and hard. That’s when everything really went to shit and your brothers got involved.”
He scratches at his scruff with his open palm, and I wait because I sense that he’s trying to make sense of something. “Sophie told us all a business saying . . . ‘he offered, we refused, no harm, no foul,’ and as far as we’re concerned, that would’ve been the end of it. But then things went really south with your brothers, and it got very . . . on edge. I guess I got it. Your dad’s . . . issues are a point of pride. But I guess we’ve been hoping that things would thaw faster than they have. Just never got why.”
He shrugs at the end of his story like he doesn’t get it, and that’s because he’s never heard Daddy’s version.
“Because that’s a very different picture than we’ve been painted,” I say, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together between what Luke just said and what I’ve been told.
“After Mom died, it was hard. I remember Mama Louise coming over, being nice to us and taking care of us. She taught me how to cook a few more things, though I already knew a lot from helping Mom. She would hug on the boys even though they fought against it because I think she knew they needed that love. She even hugged Daddy a few times, though now that I think about it, he might’ve hugged her.”
I close my eyes, trying to remember, but the details are lost to time.
“When Mama Louise stopped coming over, Daddy said it was because John only wanted her taking care of her kids, not us. We felt abandoned all over again, but we got over it, and I was old enough, so I started taking care of us. There I was, barely a teenager, packing lunches in the morning before school while the boys did their chores, and then I did laundry and made dinner while I finished my homework. I think the boys did their homework in the barn because I never saw them crack a book. They were always working, right by Daddy’s side.”
The memories come rushing back in waves . . . me with my nose in a book while simultaneously stirring something on the stove, the boys coming in hot and sweaty but with smiles as they roughhoused with each other, dinners around the table where Daddy would tell us that we’d survived another day. It felt like an accomplishment at the time, the Tannens against the world, and we’d win, a single day at a time. We missed Mom, but it felt like times were as good as they could be, like we were a team, a family.
“Then, soon after your father died, Daddy started talking about expanding. Brody and I were worried because we didn’t see how that was possible. We’ve never had the manpower to run our farm and your ranch, and we didn’t have the money to buy you out, but Daddy was so excited and kept talking about how our hard work was paying off, and it was infectious. I mean, on the surface, things were looking great. Daddy had that brand-new truck of his, and we figured he had a plan. Then he came home cussing a blue streak about you boys. That was probably the day you told him no, and this dream he wanted was crashing and burning right before his very eyes. He went mean, spewing ugly things about your whole family, and we just sort of nodded and went along with it. I mean, things were already at just that sort of icy polite stage between the families. What else were we gonna do?”
Guilt assaults me, that I should’ve seen, should’ve done something to stop Daddy’s tirades, but at that time, he’d still been everything to us.
“Then Mark came over and told us about the gambling. We were shocked and Daddy was ashamed. But he didn’t retreat quietly. No, he yelled and bitched for days after that. But the damage was done.” I swipe at my eyes, remembering how my world had changed in an instant, everything I knew being shown not as a lie, exactly, but as a front.
“Brody and I really took over then. I did a deep dive through all the finances, and oh, my God, did I have some realizations then. That truck . . . he told us it was paid in full. It wasn’t. And that was just the beginning of it. Brody forced Daddy to have some hard conversations, even threatening to go and take us all with him, leaving Daddy high and dry with a farm he can’t work alone. Finally, Daddy basically just said ‘fuck it’ and he left us instead. He still lives in the main house with me and the boys, but he barely helps around the farm and he’s gone almost every weekend to go gambling. He doesn’t hide it now, even borrowed a hundred bucks from Brody. But we manage. Brody had a come to Jesus talk with him and put him on an allowance while I have all the passwords on the accounts. Bobby and Bruce take good care of the growing, Brody keeps the animals, and I run the house.”
I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding, a pain I didn’t realize was still wound up around my heart releasing with the rush of words.
Scenes flash through my mind like photographs . . . of Mom and Daddy, of happy Christmases around the tree in the living room. And later, of the boys, gangly and grumpy through their teen years, and now the awkwardness we all feel around the dining table when Daddy sits down at the head like he’s still in control of the ranch and himself.
When he’s gone, it’s fine, and we laugh and joke. We still sound like a family. But when he’s there, the tension ties us all in knots.
“Do you know how amazing you are?” Luke’s question is quiet, more breath than sound, and I can hear the effect my story has had on him.
I snuggle into his side, wanting to hide from the compliment, not sure I deserve it. “I just did what I had to do, what Mom would’ve done.”
“Shay, you were just a kid. Literally. We all work our family land, it’s what we do out here, but you stepped up in a way most kids don’t or couldn’t. I couldn’t have pulled off what you did. Your mom would be so proud of you.”
His certainty as he says words I didn’t even know I needed to hear brings hot tears to my eyes. I know he can feel them dropping onto his shirt, making the cotton beneath my cheek damp and warm at the same time.
He runs a soft hand over my hair, stroking my locks soothingly. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. Losing a parent is a touchy subject. I know that. I try to live up to Pops’s example every day, the same way you do your mom’s, and it’s hard. But you’re doing a damn fine job, Shayanne.”
I sniffle, trying not to get snot on his shirt even though whatever romantic, sneaky vibe we had going at first is long gone with our heavy stories. He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a bandana and offering it to me.
“Are you seriously this prepared?” I ask, a smile cracking through the tears.
“Well, it’s usually my sweat rag, but it’s clean. I promise.”
I use a corner to dab my eyes and then another corner to wipe at my nose.
“Every time I’m in her kitchen, I feel her. Like she’s right there, hugging me,” I admit. “I remember being so little, banging on her mixing bowls with wooden spoons like I was trying out for a drummer job, and then later, her first lessons, where she taught me to knead bread and make a salad. By the time I was in middle school, she’d sometimes sit at the table while I tried out recipes, and we’d talk about school, boys, and whatever random things ran through my mind. But that’s
what I remember of Mom. That probably sounds stupid. Sorry.”
He follows my conversational jump back to talking about our parents like it was smooth.
I can feel him shake his head. “That’s not stupid at all. Hell, I know James talks to Pops at the pond, which is kinda weird now that I think about it, considering he and Sophie also have a sweet spot for that particular place.”
I giggle through the tears, his levity helping dry them up.
“Mark will go out front and ‘check the tree’ when he needs to think on something, and I’m pretty sure he’s channeling Pops there. And me? I ride Duster, Pops’s horse. He spent hours on the back of that horse, working this land. And every time I sit on Pops’s saddle on Duster’s back, he’s right there with me. So no, feeling close to your mom when you’re in her kitchen doesn’t seem stupid at all.”
I slip an arm beneath his back so I can squeeze him tight. “Thank you.”
“For what? Telling you the truth? That loss is hard, and whatever you’ve got to do to get through it is okay? Because your family has done what you needed to, except for your dad. Can I still hate him and like you?” He looks down at me with a furrowed brow, comical confusion in his eyes.
I smile, not taking the bait. “No, for making me feel like there’s something honorable in taking care of my family and making a home for them. I know you travel and see so much, and there are people who do amazing things. A lot of times, I wish I could be one of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“It just seems so . . . I don’t know,” I admit. “Like there’s a buffet of options that I wish I could pick from and live a life I chose.” I spread my one arm, the one that’s not hugged against Luke right now, wide, indicating all the choices I would have.
I look out to the night sky, not seeing stars but seeing endless possibilities before sighing.
“But in my heart, way down deep, as much as I hate that I’ve never been anywhere, never done anything significant, I know I wouldn’t leave my family. They need me and I need them. I like taking care of them. I never had any other choice, but I’ve made the best out of the life I have, and I’m proud of it. Of being a Tannen.”
He sits up, and I move with him, sitting cross-legged between his bent knees. He cups my face, not letting me shy away from the weight in his stare.
“Shayanne Tannen, you can be or do anything you want, right here or anywhere. And your dad or your brothers or anyone else shouldn’t even try to stop you. If you’re happy here, taking care of your family, making soap and pumpkin puree, that’s exactly what you should do. There’s no shame in that. Be damn proud of what you do. Be the best damn goat soap maker in all the country if you want. I know you can do it. I believe in you.”
No one has ever said that, not even me when I talk to myself, which seems sad and ridiculous when Luke makes it seem so obvious.
“Hell, my mama is the most badass woman I know—don’t tell her I called her that, though, because she’ll get onto me about cussing—but do you know what her resume has on it?” he asks pointedly.
I shake my head, though I think I know where he’s going with this.
“Waitress. Wife. Mother. Rancher. In chronological order, though I suspect if we were going on priorities, it’d be wife, mother, rancher, and she’d conveniently forget the waitressing job she had when she was a teenager. Well, except that’s how she met Pops, so maybe she’d keep it on the list.” He pauses like he’s considering what his mother would do, and I laugh.
He shakes his head, focusing again. “But nowhere on that list or in her life has Mama thought she was less than. She’s strong, happy, stubborn as a mule, and smart as a whip. She had to be to keep us three boys and my Pops on the straight and narrow, and she has put her little size-seven boot in all our asses at one point or another. I suspect you’re a lot like her, and just so you know, comparing you to my mama is the biggest compliment I can give. Don’t tell her I said that, either.”
He pins me with his eyes, making the direction an order of utmost importance.
I can feel my heart filling with light. I’ve looked up to my mom for so long, her pedestal still firmly in place as I tried with all my might to live up to her. And Mama Louise was a substitute in a lot of ways for that short time after Mom died. To hear that I’m in their company is powerful.
“What about you? Are you following in your dad’s footsteps?” I ask, feeling like Pops Bennett would be so proud of Luke. I may not have been around Luke much, but his name’s becoming famous in that sort of quiet way that people get when they’re known in a relatively small circle that doesn’t get a lot of press. He’s the best around for breeding and training, making a name for himself with racing horses.
But Luke shakes his head. “Nah, that’s Mark. He’s Pops’s shadow, version two-dot-oh. But Pops always encouraged us to do what we felt called to do. Hell, he damn near had to hold Mama back when James went off to join the rodeo at eighteen.”
He pitches his voice high in a piss-poor imitation of Mama Louise. “My bayyy-beeee!” We both laugh at the exaggeration. In his regular baritone, Luke says, “Pops liked horses well enough, but I’ve always sort of had an affinity for them. So he used to take me with him when he’d visit folks so I could meet their horses, and he took me to the rodeo and races some. I remember the first time he got us into the barn to see the horses up close before a race. I thought they were like movie stars, and I’m not talking about the jockeys.” He laughs at the memory, and I can see a teenaged Luke star-struck by a horse, so I giggle too.
“Biggest show of support he ever did was help me get Demon and Cobie, my thoroughbreds. I had enough to buy one, but their owner wanted to keep them together. They’ve always been stall-mates, and though they’re not genetically related, they’re as close as brothers. Pops paid the other half.” I can hear the sentimentality he has for the memory, the horses, and how much it meant to him that his dad believed in him that way.
“Sounds like you have a lot to live up to, too. I’m sure Pops was proud of you,” I say gently, and he nods.
Tonight has been nothing like what I thought it would be. I think I’d expected the passion from before to reignite and something physical to happen. Hell, I was hoping it would, fantasizing about us naked in the moonlight, wrapped up in the blanket and in each other.
Instead, we’ve shared things that make tonight seem even more intimate. We’ve shared our stories and our hearts, not just our bodies.
It’s even better.
Chapter 11
Luke
We meet the next night, and the one after that too. It becomes routine for us both—dinner at our respective homes, where no one is the wiser, and then late-night meetups at the tree by cover of moonlight. I even head out there a couple of times mid-day to leave her slighty sweet, but kinda dirty notes under that rock on the lowest branch, hoping she’ll find them before I get there.
Mostly, I work through the daylight hours, impatiently marking hours and getting stuff done simply to kill time until I can sneak off and see Shayanne. I want to hear about her day and share mine with her, hold her in my arms and taste her full lips. In a way, we started backward, our chemistry exploding quickly, but now it’s burning low and slow, though the delicious torture of not taking her is damn near killing me.
I feel like a teenager again, driven to the brink of madness with wanting her so badly that the necessary daily jacking off does nothing but remind me that my hand isn’t hers. Each release into the old hay behind the barn is a reminder that I’m not buried inside Shayanne and that I’m going crazy with anticipation.
But I wait. For her, for us, not willing to push too fast, do anything too soon. I want us to build this foundation, steady and strong, because an earthquake is coming, a big one, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
“Hey,” a voice says from the doorway, and I startle, not expecting anyone to be in the barn with me.
I look up, and it’s like a birthday and C
hristmas gift all in one. Shayanne is standing there in the doorway in the middle of the day, like I conjured her up with a wish.
“Hey,” I answer with a smile, scooping her into my arms and taking her mouth with a searing kiss. I press her against the doorframe, bending over her to cage her in before giving in and just picking her up.
My hands cup her firm ass as her legs go around my waist, and I shift, pressing her back to the wall to hold her steady. I’m starving for her, licking and nibbling down the line of her neck as she throws her head back to give me better access. “Fuck, I missed you,” I murmur against her skin, the vibrations of my voice blending with the purr in her throat. I pull back to really look at her in the hazy brightness of the barn, her hair wild, her eyes dancing, and her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You are so damn beautiful.”
“Missed. You. Too.” Her hands are scraping circles on my back, her arms resting over my shoulders as she holds on to me for dear life.
“Gonna get caught sneaking over here in broad daylight, honey,” I scold her. I don’t really care, but the threat of the danger is deliciously hot. “But fuck, am I glad to see you.”
Her body writhes against mine where I have her pinned between me and the wall. I grip her hips, guiding her thrusts and rubbing our centers together, hitting her clit through her jeans. My voice is gravelly, already lost to need. “Is this what you came over for? Need me to get your pretty pussy off?”
Her eyes darken and her full bottom lip puffs up around her teeth where she bites at it. Shayanne doesn’t have the words, not yet, but she likes it when I talk dirty to her, voicing her needs and wants. “Luke . . .”
My name is a plea, one I’m more than happy to fulfill.
I let her slide down my body until her feet hit the concrete floor, but I keep her pressed against the wall with a kiss as I drop my hand to her jeans. I flick the button open quickly but slowly and torturously slide the zipper down, tooth by tooth, enjoying the way she bucks against me, wanting me to get the show on the road.
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 12
