by Liz Isaacson
The ranch grew all it’s own hay for the winter, and they had seventy acres to plant on this year’s rotation. Jace’s father had kept a rigorous crop rotation on a six-year-schedule, and Jace planned to follow it. In the thirty years his dad had run the ranch, they’d never had to buy hay to feed their cattle, horses, and sheep during the long winter months. And that took careful planning, a lot of time, and dedication to field preparation and irrigation that would dominate Jace’s life for the next six months.
When Tom stopped by to offer Jace a ride to church, he declined it, claiming he needed more sleep. In actuality, he didn’t want to face Belle. Instead, he texted her that he wouldn’t be at church today, but he’d see her in the morning when she came to oversee the carpet installation in the eighth cabin.
She didn’t respond, and Jace got a taste of his own medicine. It burned bitterly on the back of his tongue, and he escaped the confines of his cabin in favor of the wide openness of the Montana wilderness.
He saddled his favored horse, Think Twice, and headed out into the sloppy, melting countryside. If the sun kept up it’s latest relentlessness, he could be planting in two weeks. That hope buoyed his spirits, and he finally felt the cloud that had been following him for a couple of days start to float away.
When he got up high enough that the snow made it impossible for Think to keep going, Jace turned around. He didn’t spend as much time horseback riding as he used to, and he realized he missed being in the saddle. Missed the expansive, blue sky and the clarity of thought that came when he managed to get away from all his duties, the expectations, the insecurities.
He patted Think’s neck as the horse practically ran into the stable. The horse got a fresh sack of oats and a full-body brush down before Jace left the barn. He felt clear and bright and ready to deal with anything the ranch or Belle or God wanted to throw at him.
So when he saw Belle’s red sedan parked next to his truck in front of his cabin, Jace’s heart leapt in anticipation of seeing her.
“There you are,” she said as he came up the front steps.
He startled, missed the step, and tripped forward. “I didn’t see you there.” In fact, he’d forgotten he’d even put patio furniture on his porch. Because he hadn’t—Belle had as part of his cabin remodel. All the boys had hammocks or rockers now, and Jace had even seen a couple of them sitting on the porch, playing the guitar or talking with each other as the weather warmed.
“How long you been here?” He made it to the porch and headed in her direction. “What time is it?”
“Shouldn’t the foreman wear a watch?” She cast him a playful look as he sank into the chair beside hers.
“I usually have my phone.” He exhaled and closed his eyes as he started rocking. “But I left it here and took a radio with me. Sometimes the cell service isn’t great anyway, especially up higher on the mountain.”
“Are you feeling better?”
He reached for her hand, fumbled around until he found it, and squeezed. “Yep.”
“Good enough to go for a walk? The waterfalls are beautiful today. It’s not too cold, and I made blondies.”
He opened his eyes and glanced at her. She indicated a plate of baked goods sitting on the table between them. “Blondies?”
“They’re like brownies without the cocoa powder.”
He balked at this information, a measure of disbelief tearing through him. “Isn’t the chocolate the best part of a brownie? Why would you take it out?”
She smiled at him like she would a disobedient toddler. “These are good too. Besides, you said you didn’t like chocolate. Try one.”
Had she made them specifically because he didn’t like chocolate? And so what if she had? “I will at the waterfall.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Let’s go.” His stomach rumbled, and he took a detour inside. “Did you bring lunch or just treats?”
“I ate lunch on the way here.”
“Do you mind if I make myself something? Will you drive?” He reached for the bread and peanut butter.
“Eat away, cowboy. And I can drive, sure. If you’ll wash my car when we get back. That road on the way in is a mud pit.”
“Yeah, we’ll put sawdust and gravel on it this week. Landon’s in charge of that, actually.”
“I didn’t hear you confirm you’d wash my car.”
He chuckled, finished his sandwich, and turned toward her. “Sure thing, sunshine.” He grabbed an apple and a bottle of water and threw his lunch in a plastic sack. “All right, let’s go.”
He ate while Belle drove to the waterfalls. She’d hoped he’d come with her, hoped he was just overly tired and needed a morning off. Sure enough, he seemed his normal, subdued but happy-to-see-her self, though he hadn’t kissed her hello.
She parked and got out of the car, pulling the sleeves of her jacket down to cover the backs of her hands. Several others had obviously had the same idea as Belle, as brightly colored sweatshirts stood out against the mostly brown and gray background at the falls.
“Wow, there’s a lot of water.” Jace stepped to her side. “When I was here a few weeks ago, there was probably half this amount of water going over.”
Belle nodded and took a deep breath. She loved the long row of waterfalls just north of the town of Gold Valley. In the height of summer, it would look like one long waterfall, but right now, she could still make out the gaps in a few spots.
“You wanna go down the path and around a little?”
“Sure.” He slipped his hand into hers as they started walking, and Belle’s worries calmed. She wasn’t even sure why she’d been worried. Because he hadn’t texted back on Friday night? Because he hadn’t come to church? The man ran an entire ranch. Managed hundreds of thousands of cows and acres and two-dozen employees. He was smart, and hardworking, but he was human too.
“How’s the car?” he asked.
“Seems to be running great,” she said. “Thankfully.”
“That’s great news.” He spoke quietly, almost so softly that Belle had to strain toward him to hear him. “I love it here.” He leaned against the railing across from the falls, one of the best vantage points for viewing them. “Tom and I used to fish here as boys.”
“I remember the first time my dad brought us to Gold Valley,” Belle said, letting herself take a trip down memory lane as well. “Landon loved these falls. Loved the tall trees. Loved the mountains. I was…less enthused.”
“Where’d you guys move from again?”
“Chicago. I was born there. I didn’t really want to move. But.” She sighed and stared across the distance to the falls. “I did love these falls. I remember thinking how it was like a mini Niagra Falls, which we’d visited the year before. My mom told me I could come here anytime I was feeling sad or missing a friend from Chicago.”
Jace draped one arm around her shoulders. “And did you come?”
A smile caught on her face. “No. I never felt sad or missed anyone. We moved into our house and another ten-year-old girl lived across the street. We became fast friends, and I didn’t mind living in Gold Valley.”
“But you didn’t love it.”
“I grew to love it.” She turned to find his face only inches from hers. “I love it now.” She pressed her lips to his. “I’m glad I’m back.”
“Me too, sunshine.” He kissed her again, quick on the mouth. “Me too.”
Belle’s gaze always went to Jace’s cabin whenever she came out to the ranch. She tried not to, tried to focus on navigating the worsening road conditions on the ranch. Whatever Jace needed to do to fix them, he needed to do it fast.
But his truck wasn’t in front of his cabin. She pulled into an empty space closer to the lodge and reached for the boots she’d brought, which waited on her passenger seat. Her phone went off, a snappy rhythm she’d chosen for Jace.
At Tom’s. When you get here, come on down.
On my way. She slipped on her boots and stepped into the spring mess. At least the path run
ning in front of the cowboy cabins was gravel. Tom lived way down on the end, several hundred yards past the last cabin, and she had to detour back to the sloppy, muddy road. Well, at least the boots she’d brought would be put to good use.
A black Labrador retriever the size of a small pony lifted his head as Belle gained the top of the steps. A quick blip of fear hit her, but the dog laid its head back down and closed his eyes. She knocked on the door, and Jace opened it a moment later.
She entered Tom’s house, where both cowboys sipped coffee. Jace handed her a mug. “I only added a couple tablespoons of coffee.” He flashed her a quick smile. “Just how you like it.”
“You’re the best.” She stepped toward him, but something about his rigid body language made her freeze. She cast a quick glance to Tom, who watched their exchange with extreme interest on his face.
“Tom says we can take his cabin off the remodel schedule.” Jace shifted his weight to his back foot, putting a healthy amount of extra distance between them, and sipped his coffee.
“He doesn’t want his cabin remodeled?” She glanced around and found custom kitchen cabinets, clearly the work of a master carpenter. Hardwood—and not the kind she could buy from the best distributor in the country—decorated the floor. She bent down and ran her fingers along the grain. “Wow. This is fantastic.” She glanced. up. “What is this? Reclaimed wood?”
“From a barn they were tearin’ down last year.” Tom leaned against his already-granite countertops.
“Did you do this?” She straightened and looked into his face for a brief moment before taking in the rest of the most luxurious cabin she’d ever been in—including some up in the exclusive cabin community on the mountain.
“Yeah.” Tom followed her into the living room, which had the same floors as the kitchen. “I did the bookcases last year, and I finished the basement over Christmas.”
“This place has a basement?” None of the other cowboy cabins had sported one of those.
“Tom’s house isn’t technically a cowboy cabin,” Jace said. “We don’t normally have married cowhands livin’ on the ranch.”
She spun to face him. “You don’t?” Her mouth felt like she’d sucked on cotton balls all night. “What about—?” Her gaze flew to Tom and back to Jace, both of whom wore a mask of stone. Her heart banged against her breastbone so hard she thought they could see it. She couldn’t believe she’d almost asked them what would happen to them once they got married.
She turned away as fast as she’d faced him, her thoughts and emotions tangling in a complicated web. Maybe Ashley’s advice about this relationship only ending in marriage for Jace had penetrated Belle’s mind more deeply than she thought.
Or maybe she was falling in love with Jace, and the ideas of marriage and where she’d live with him belonged solely to her.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Wait a second,” Jace called after her, but she didn’t. She burst through the front door and gulped the still-chilly air. She leaned against the railing, not even startled when the dog came over and put his icy nose on her fingers. Instinctively, she stroked his head, taking comfort from his presence.
Jace stepped next to her. “So…you okay?”
“Why does Tom live on the ranch if he’s married?”
“When my dad got injured about…oh, ‘bout eighteen months ago now, he retired. Rob made me the foreman and I moved into my dad’s cabin. It’s bigger, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I was raised in that cabin, too. It feels like home.”
“Oh, so the foreman can be married and live at the ranch?” She felt his heavy gaze on the side of her face, and for the first time, she wished she had a cowgirl hat to use for the duck-and-cover technique she’d seen Jace do several times.
He chuckled. “Oh, so that was what you’re worried about.” His arm snaked around her back, his fingers gripping her waist and pulling her into his side. “You thinkin’ about marryin’ me?”
She adored the teasing quality of his tone, but the air suddenly seemed like sand, and she couldn’t expel it from her lungs.
“It’s okay if you are.” He leaned against the railing too, the dog between their legs. “I’ve been thinkin’ about marryin’ you.”
“You have?”
He sighed, his gaze singular on the horizon. “Little bit,” he admitted. “Tom lives here, because this was an unused building and Rob loved my father. So when Dad asked if Tom could live here with his wife, Rob said yes. We could probably knock it down and use the land for hay, but well, Rob takes care of his men.”
Belle’s mind whirred, but she didn’t settle on any one thought. She couldn’t. She finally said, “So Tom doesn’t need his cabin remodeled. I’ve put that in the budget.” She took a breath, removed herself from Jace’s side-hug, and stepped away from the dog. “I’ll need to re-work that. See where we can spend the rest of the money. Or maybe the ranch would want to recoup the funds?”
“I’ll talk to Rob.” He looked at her with curiosity. “Should we get over to cabin eight? Caleb’s probably wondering where we are by now.”
“Sure, yeah.” She followed him down the steps and driveway to the rutted road. She took his hand after they’d gone a few paces side-by-side. “I may have thought about us being married.”
He squeezed her fingers in response, but she caught the handsome smile as it carved its way across his features. Warmth and happiness filled her with that smile and her next step contained a bounce she hadn’t experienced in a while.
16
After the conversation at Tom’s, Belle dominated Jace’s thoughts. He thought of making her pancakes on the weekends, after she woke up next to him. He thought about what he’d wear to his wedding—definitely not the navy pinstripe suit Wendy had picked out for him. He thought about building a life with Belle, maybe a life with children.
Jace nicked himself shaving as he pondered whether his sons would have her auburn hair or his dark locks, or whether their daughters would have her green eyes. He hoped so. He loved her green eyes.
As a trickle of blood wept down his chin, he stared at himself. “You don’t love her,” he told his reflection. He didn’t say the next word on his mind— yet—but it lingered in the silence around him.
He shook his head. He couldn’t fall in love with Belle, not yet. The fissures in his soul still felt too wide, and he wouldn’t burden her with them. Still, as April melted into May, and planting season started due to some early warm weather, the feelings of love for Belle remained. He enjoyed holding her hand at church, making her lunch and cuddling with her every chance he got. Every time he kissed her, he fell deeper and deeper, and she seemed to match his passion with her own.
So one Thursday near the end of May, when Belle framed herself in his office doorway, he pulled her inside, closed the door, and pressed her against it in a kiss he couldn’t contain. She giggled before deepening the kiss.
“I like coming out to the ranch,” she said. “Especially when I’m greeted like that.”
“Project’s almost done,” he murmured, tracing his lips down her neck to her collarbone. “Then what will you do? Just drive out to bring me lunch?”
She sighed and tilted her head back. “Maybe you’ll have to come into town and see me.” She stiffened, and he pulled back slightly. “Remember I told you I wanted to start my own design company?”
“Mm hm.” His eyes drifted closed and he leaned his mouth close to her ear.
She shivered, which made him feel powerful and strong. “Well, I got the company licensed, and I’m working on a logo.”
“That’s great.” He kissed her just below her earlobe. “Why you tellin’ me this now?”
“Because when you come to town to see me, you can just come to my house, not my office.”
He pulled away enough to examine her face for signs of distress, but he only found a shiny layer of joy. “I thought you still had months on the Flathead Lake project, and that Calvin wouldn’t let you out of it.�
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“I’m hoping to convince him to take over by the end of June.”
Jace’s heart hopped over one, two, three beats. He wanted to skip June completely, and he thought he’d never be able to stomach living through those thirty days every year. But maybe with Belle by his side….
“I can come to your office,” he said. “I’m capable.” A flash of worry stole across her face so fast Jace could barely catalog it. He stepped back, his euphoria evaporating.
“But you won’t have to. We have at least two more weeks in those barns—that’s if your men can stay out of my way.” She gave him a nervous smile.
“They have work to do.” He didn’t mean his voice to come out so solid, but it did, and Belle heard it. “And I don’t need you makin’ concessions for me.”
“I’m not making concessions.”
He moved to his desk and sat down, the payroll spread before him. His father had warned him that twice a month, Jace would hate being the foreman. The two Thursdays where he had to push paper and make sure the men got paid. And his dad had been dead on.
“Belle, I can handle coming to your office.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
“You implied it.”
“I did not.”
“I saw your face. I don’t need you to change everything about your life, or yourself, for me.”
Confusion scrunched her eyebrows together. “I don’t do that.”
Jace had let the things that bothered him—her saying she liked to drive so she could think, and her renting a place because she thought he wanted her to, and her making brownies without chocolate—fade. Let them go. Tried not to worry about them.
“So why’d you get a place of your own, then?”
“I….”
He’d kept his eyes on the papers on his desk, but now he lifted them to hers. He rose from his chair. “Why did you suddenly like driving, after you’d said you hated it?” He should stop, but he couldn’t. “Why did you make a brownie without any chocolate?”
