by Tessa Layne
Ben loosened his grip on Blackhawk’s mane as they approached the riverbank. From the south, the bend in the river was obscured by a stand of gnarled oak trees and a lone white-barked sycamore, making his hideaway safe from prying eyes. A flash of movement through the trees followed by a splash, caught his attention. He slid off Blackhawk and dropped the rope halter. He could be stealthier on foot, and Blackhawk would come when he whistled. Silently, he snuck up through the trees, crouching low and darting behind bushes.
His breath stuck in his ribs as he saw a skinny girl on the far bank skipping rocks. Given her blondish-reddish hair, she must belong to the Hansens, but he didn’t recall seeing her at the school. And she was tall, too. He studied her rock throwing technique. She pulled her arm back, furrowed her brows as she aimed and flicked her wrist and let go of the stone. One, two, three, fourfivesix. Admiration flickered through him. She didn’t throw like a girl. But who was she? And what was she doing in his secret spot?
He stepped through the trees. “Hey. What are you doing here?” Mama would tan his hide for a greeting like that, but he’d learned from his brothers that it was best to assert ownership early.
If she was surprised at his presence, it didn’t show. The girl merely raised an eyebrow, giving him a mildly annoyed look. “What does it look like?” Her voice held a pouty note and a little bit of a sniffle. Like she was upset. She crouched and after a moment picked up another stone. She flicked it over the water, this time hitting seven.
He nodded in the direction it had skipped. “You’re pretty good at that.”
She shrugged. “My brothers are better. But they won’t play with me.” Her lower lip stuck out.
“Well, you’re gonna have to play somewhere else. This is my spot.”
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a hard stare. “Says who? I was here first.”
“No you weren’t. I was.”
“Since when?”
“Since a few weeks ago.”
She crossed her hands across her chest. “Well, I’ve been playing here since ever. And you can’t make me leave.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
She had a point. “Okay, why don’t we throw for it?”
She stared at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Skip rocks.”
A sly grin pulled her mouth up. “You wanna skip rocks against me?”
He nodded. Why shouldn’t he? He had at least three or four years on her, and by his reckoning, was a head taller. Or more. He could out-skip her with a hand tied behind his back.
“Okay.” She immediately dropped to her knees scouring the bank for the perfect stone.
He did the same. After a minute he found an oblong stone that fit snugly in the arch between his thumb and forefinger. “Ready.” He stood.
She did too. Her eyes dancing like the light reflecting off the water. “Wade over here. This is the best spot.”
He slipped off his shoes, leaving them on the bank, and stepped into the cool water. The bend in the creek naturally pooled the water into a small swimming hole. Not as big as the one downstream, closer to the homestead, which was why he assumed his brothers hadn’t discovered it. He waded in, then paddled the short distance to where his feet touched ground again. Never in his ten years of existence had he crossed the creek to the Hansen side. A little thrill went through him.
She was right. The bank was flatter over on her side. Better for skipping rocks. Beating her would be a piece of cake. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“Girls first.”
She shook her head. “Winners last.”
A spark of irritation flashed through him. She was stubborn. Not that he should be surprised. He’d heard his dad rail about how stubborn the Hansens were. “Okay fine. We go at the same time. On three.”
She began to count. “One. Two. Three.”
They both threw. She turned to him. “I won.”
“No you didn’t. I had more.”
“Mine went farther.”
He narrowed his eyes down at her. “Then it’s a tie.”
She narrowed her eyes up at him. “No it’s not. I won. I’m not leaving.” She turned and flounced off to one of the oak trees that grew on her side of the river.
“Fine,” he called after her. “Stay if you want, but you can’t bug me.” He splashed into the water, crossed back to the Sinclaire side, and started to look for chert along the bank. Last time he was here he’d found an outcropping perfect for making arrowheads. He could sit here and smash rocks together and ignore her.
Ignoring lasted all of five minutes.
She was busy on the other side, hauling branches twice her size over to a large oak. Ben stopped smashing chert and watched her. The look of determination on her face was magnificent. Awe inspiring, given how young she was. Heck, she didn’t even acknowledge his presence.
Finally, he couldn’t resist. “What are you doing?”
Not sparing him a glance, she answered. “Tree house.”
He scowled. “That’s not a tree house. That’s a lean-to.”
She let go of the large branch she was dragging. “It’s not a lean-to. It’s my tree house. And you’re not invited.”
That rankled. She was building the wrong kind of structure, and judging from the way the branches were stacked against the tree trunk, it was likely to collapse. He might not want to play with her, but he’d never let a girl get hurt. Not while he was around.
He stood, wiping his hands on his shorts. “I’m coming over.” He splashed back into the water and paddled across. Shaking the water free from his hair, he approached her and squatted down. He could see her eyes up close now. Bright blue irises with a pale center, and a fierce expression. Her strawberry hair escaped from her braids and haloed her face. He grinned in spite of himself. He liked her spunk.
“So you want to build a tree house?”
“I am building one,” she corrected, her mouth thinning into a determined line.
Ben bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. “Don’t you need a hammer and nails? And a ladder?”
She blinked rapidly, her face a mask of determination.
He softened his voice. “What if I helped you?” He didn’t know why he was offering. His brothers would give him grief for weeks if they found out. They’d just have to not find out.
She studied him, suspicion lingering in her eyes. “I can do it myself,” she murmured.
A little pang went through him. Clearly her brothers left her to her own devices. Just like he and his brothers did with their little sister, Emma. But Emma was only four and couldn’t run around after them.
“What if it was our secret?”
Her eyes lit. “Like a secret hideout?”
The idea grew on him. He’d build it and let her use it. She couldn’t be that much of a pain, could she? She didn’t seem… prissy. She definitely wasn’t a crybaby. He nodded slowly, the idea sealed in his mind. “Yeah. I can bring Blackhawk, my horse, down here with tools, and we can build a proper hideout.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
She grinned at him, spit on the palm of her hand, and extended it. “Shake on it?”
He spit on his hand. He’d never spit-shook with a girl before. He opened his palm but moved it away suddenly. “What’s your name?”
“Hope.”
“I’m Ben.”
She nodded once. “I swear never to tell anyone.”
“Me too.”
She shook her head once. “Nope. You’ve gotta say it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I swear never to tell anyone.” He grabbed her little hand in his and squeezed. She squeezed back just as hard. His heart thumped in his chest. He’d never kept a secret before.
*
A coyote yipped in the distance, pulling Ben out of the memory. The picture of her had been so vivid he glanced over at the river, certain he’d see her shadow.
Wh
at would she think of the neglected tree house now? Maybe it wasn’t as bad on the inside as he suspected. Stepping up to the ladder, he gingerly placed his foot on the first rung and tested his weight. It held. Moving slowly and testing each rung, he climbed up to the hole in the floor. Peeking through, his heart sank further. The floorboards showed signs of dry rot. The remains of an animal nest, most likely a squirrel or an owl, lay in a corner.
His heart sank to his toes.
The whole thing would have to be torn down.
A fitting end, given his last interaction with Hope.
In spite of the disarray, the memory of their kiss came crashing back, eating at him and lifting off the scab he’d carefully constructed over the old wound. The acrid taste of regret rose in the back of his throat. Dammit, someday he’d think of Hope and not relive every stupid mistake he’d made. Tonight though, every memory acted like salt on a scrape.
Well, fuck that.
He was done wallowing.
A plan began to shimmer before him. He had two weeks, maybe three, if he was lucky. And if the weather held.
Hope was coming home. And this time… this time would be different. Come hell or high water, he was going to set things straight. The tree house he and Hope built together when they were kids had always been her sanctuary. She’d return to it. He’d bet his last dollar. And he’d be there waiting for her. He wasn’t letting Hope Hansen get away a second time.
CHAPTER 3
“You know what you need, Hope?” Her brother, Axel, sat at the kitchen table thumbing through the latest issue of Rancher’s Monthly. The look on his face spelled one thing. Trouble.
Growing up, that had been the look which landed all the siblings in hot water with their mother. Hope shook her head. “Oh no. Don’t you go getting ideas, Axe. I just got home.”
“It’s about damn time, too,” said her other brother, Gunnar, joining Axel at the table. “You never should have left. Plenty of professional opportunities for you here.”
Hope let out a harsh sigh. “Name one that doesn’t have to do with Hansen Stables.”
Gunnar’s face fell a little.
“See?” She crossed her arms, emphasizing her point. “You can’t name one.”
“I’ll come up with one.” Gunnar studied her. “Why’d you quit when you were so close to finishing? That’s not like you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, to share the lurid and embarrassing details. But then what? Axe and Gunn would flip out. Go on a rampage. And what good would it do anyway? Best to make a fresh start and move on. She wasn’t the first person to change careers. To need to reinvent herself. She wouldn’t be the last. “Well, it is now. There was no point in finishing the program when I realized being a vet wasn’t for me.” It gutted her to say that. Every word stabbed at her.
“So now what?” Gunnar asked. “You can’t hide out here forever.”
“Like I was saying.” Axel studied her intently, a hint of a smile playing underneath his ginger scruff. “You know what you need? A distraction.”
“Riiight. About as much as I need a hole in the head.”
“I think you already have one of those. And I agree with Axe,” Gunnar chimed in. Then he winked at Axel. “If you’re not going to be a career woman, you should think about settling down.”
She leaned against the kitchen counter, shock making her muscles go rigid. “You’re kidding. Right?”
Her brothers shook their heads. Axel rocked his chair back on two legs and stroked his scruffy chin. “Nope. Look at you. You’re mid-twenties, good hips. Pretty face.”
“You did not just say good hips.”
Gunnar’s eyes twinkled. “You’re a hottie, sis. Any rancher’d be lucky to snag you.”
Hope grabbed the sponge next to the sink and aimed it at his head. “You are such an asshole.” Gunnar easily caught it and lobbed it back. “Of course, we’d have to approve.”
She grabbed a spoon and opened the freezer, reaching for the remains of a pint of ice cream. “Have you ever stopped to wonder that maybe this is why you two numbnuts are still single? You sound like you just crawled out of a cave.”
Axel brought the chair down with a thunk. “Nope. Just lookin’ out for your best interests, sis.”
Gunnar nodded. “You work best when you have love in your life.”
Axel inclined his head in agreement. “Amen to that.”
Hope arched an eyebrow, licking the chocolate off her spoon. “I’ll get right on that, Mister ‘I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since Haley Cooper.’” She narrowed her eyes at Axel. “What was that, eight… ten years ago? Dad would hate to find out you’ve only been phoning it in while I was off at school.”
Axel’s face clouded. “Yeah. Well, learn from my mistakes, sis.”
She stabbed the spoon into the remaining ice cream. Hope didn’t know which of her brothers had stocked the fridge with her favorite chocolate ice cream, but she was grateful. “Don’t think you can go meddling in my love life when yours is in the crapper.” She waved the spoon at Gunnar. “You either, Gunn.”
Gunnar cuffed Axel’s shoulder. “See? I told you.”
“I don’t want to know, do I?”
Her brothers exchanged a guilty look. Axel flashed her a wide grin. “Just messin’ with you, sis.”
“You know us,” Gunnar said a little too brightly.
She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Yes. I do.”
“Smile, Hopey.” Axel waved his phone and snapped a picture.
They might drive her nuts, and she’d never admit it to them, but she’d missed them. They were overbearing. They teased her incessantly. But no one had her back like her brothers, and she’d do anything for them. Her dreams might be derailed, but at least she had her family.
“We’re heading over to Sinclaires for a bonfire. Maddie’s been asking about you.”
She gave her brothers a weak smile. She’d been dreading this moment. Ever since her cousin Maddie had called her this spring to let her know she was marrying Blake Sinclaire in three weeks time. Hope had been wrapped up in finals and… school drama. She hadn’t been able to get away, and still felt bad.
She felt worse that the other reason she’d stayed away had everything to do with avoiding Ben Sinclaire. Hope had known the day she decided to move home that she’d eventually have to face Ben. She couldn’t avoid him forever, not with Maddie living at the Big House now. So why not march right over to the Big House and knock on the door? Get the inevitable awkwardness over with? She was a big girl.
She could do this.
Except that she couldn’t. Not tonight, at least. “I’m pretty tired. Raincheck? I think I’d like to take Phyllis out for a ride and then turn in.”
Axel and Gunnar shared a look of concern. “Are you sure?” Gunnar asked.
She nodded. “It’s too much. I’m not ready for the inevitable questions.” Or seeing Ben.
Gunnar made a scoffing noise. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”
“We’re just going to hang out, have a few beers. You could meet Jamey. She’s a pisser. Swears in Irish. You’d like her,” Axel wheedled. “C’mon. Maddie orchestrated these so we could get to know each other.”
“Is it working?” The feud between the families had lasted so long, it still surprised her that they were spending time together.
Gunnar shrugged. “We’re doing this for Maddie and the baby. And yeah, I guess it’s working. It’s going to take time though.”
“And more beer,” Axel added.
“But that’s why you need to come with us,” Gunnar pressed. “We promised Maddie we’d work to bury the past.”
They wouldn’t understand. They had no idea. No one did. Shame on her for keeping a secret like Ben Sinclaire for so many years. But disclosing their friendship would only have added fuel to the fire back then. She’d been a stupid teenager with an out of control crush. After that night, as she’d come to think of the most humiliating n
ight of her life, she’d managed to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and move on. It was water under the bridge.
“I’ll give Maddie a call in the morning. Promise.”
Gunnar’s eyes filled with worry. “Okay. But next time you’re coming. No excuses.”
Hope reached for the jar of sugar cubes on the counter, digging out three. “Whatever you say, Gunn. Right now I’m going to reconnect with Phyllis and take some much needed alone time.”
Axel’s eyes lasered in on her. “You spend too much time by yourself.”
Hope shot him a grin. “How would you know? You and Gunn always left me to my own devices. Maybe I like it that way.”
“Maybe we’re just worried about you.”
“I’m fine… I’ll be fine,” she amended. She grabbed her coat off the hook by the back door and swiped the sugar cubes she’d laid out on the counter. “Catch you two later. Tell Maddie we’ll talk in the morning.” Pushing on the screen door with her hip, she shoved her arms into her jacket and took off toward the stables.
And the one place she knew would calm her jumbled emotions.
Twenty minutes later, Hope swung onto Phyllis, the first horse she’d trained on her own at fourteen, and took off in the direction of her sanctuary. In spite of the fact that her tree house stood on the Sinclaire side of Steele Creek, the historical dividing line between the Sinclaire and Hansen properties, she’d always viewed it as hers. Ben had helped her build it, twice. He’d been bigger and she’d needed his help, but she’d have built it without him. If he’d have let her. But that was the way Ben was. Or at least he had been. Always helpful, always kind.
Sure he’d teased her, but they’d had an understanding. They’d always been a team. Always relied on each other. Shared secrets. She’d shared all of her horse training secrets with Ben. All of her dreams of becoming a horse vet. She was probably the only person outside of the Sinclaires who had an inkling how awful Jake Sinclaire had been to his wife and sons. Ben had helped her with her homework, she’d helped him hunt for arrowheads. And the constant? The tree house with the tackle box full of bubblegum, pens and paper. A blanket chest – that had been a feat, pulling it up into the tree – and a tiny bookshelf where she kept her favorite stories: Treasure Island, Jane Eyre, Watership Down. And later, issues of Cosmo. Ben had teased her unmercifully about them, until she’d caught him reading one. Hope smiled at the memory. She’d never seen Ben’s face so red.
