by Vivi Holt
“Good morning! Isn’t it a wonderful day?” He grinned and winked at her, flipping the pancakes over.
She groaned again.
“Foot hurting?” he asked.
“Yes. Only it doesn’t feel like my foot anymore – more like a ski boot or something. Ugh.” Her nose wrinkled.
He had to fight the urge to kiss its tip. She looked adorable in her pajama pants and camisole. She usually dressed so stylishly, he was surprised at her informality, but assumed it was because she felt poorly. She obviously hadn’t brushed her hair, just pulled it into a messy bun on top of her head, curls spilling loose. Her face was makeup-free apart from a smudge of mascara beneath both eyes. She’d never looked more adorable.
He set the spatula on the counter and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his and kissing their backs. “Again, I’m so sorry. I feel terrible about what happened.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled as she pulled her hands away. “Well, it wasn’t your fault. I should have been more careful.”
He had to stop himself from asking the question that burned on his tongue: what were you doing standing directly behind an anxious mare? She was a vet … wasn’t she? But he bit his tongue. It wasn’t the right time for that confrontation, not when her foot was still damaged from an accident he could have prevented. Instead he said, “Well, to make up for it, I cooked pancakes. Want some?” He hurried to flip two more off the griddle and onto the plate, now stacked high.
“Yes, please – who doesn’t love pancakes? I can make them from a mix, as you know, but they never taste as good as ones made from scratch – and that, I’ve never quite figured out.” She sat up straighter.
“Well, these are most definitely from scratch – and soft and fluffy to boot, if I do say so myself. As you can imagine, I was pretty popular on the rodeo circuit.” He grinned smugly, slid a pile of pancakes onto a separate plate and set it in front of her.
She rolled her eyes and poured syrup onto her stack. “I’m sure you were – and not just because of your pancakes.”
He chuckled, sensing a touch of jealousy. That suited him just fine – it meant she might care for him more than she was willing to let on. She couldn’t know he’d turned away every woman who’d pursued him on the circuit, having never found one who could match up to the ideal in his head. He wasn’t the type to date every pretty face he met – deep down, he was sentimental and loyal. After his engagement was broken, he’d longed to find that connection again, to find a partner, someone to share his life with.
He knew that point of view wasn’t fashionable among the other bronc riders. But he didn’t care to waste time with just anyone. He wanted to be with the one, or no one at all. Let the rest of them have the one-night stands.
“I’ve set a table out on the porch if you’d like to eat outside. It’s a beautiful day.” He turned the burner off and picked up the rest of the pancakes, along with a bowl of fresh fruit salad.
She chewed and swallowed quickly, her cheeks flaming. “Oh yes, that sounds lovely.”
He laughed and carried the bounty out to the porch table, holding the door open for her to hobble through. She sat, and he helped scoot her chair in beneath the glass-topped table, then went back for her plate, the butter, syrup and silverware. Finally he joined her and poured syrup over his stack of pancakes. “Just so you know, I called Gus – he’s coming to get Charity the day after tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows flew upward. “Oh. That soon, huh?”
“Yep.” He grinned and took a bite of pancakes. “I thought you’d be happy to hear you could go home.”
She nodded. “I am, of course. But this place was beginning to grow on me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Even with the injured foot?”
Her cheeks flushed even pinker and she shrugged. “I guess so.”
His eyes narrowed. What was she trying to say? He’d been certain ever since she arrived that she couldn’t wait to leave. Now that she could, she was acting as though she didn’t want to. He took a quick breath and jumped to his feet. “I’ll just get the O.J. …”
“I could use some coffee …” She stood too and stumbled in front of him, his chest smacking into her. “Sorry!”
He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Nervously he ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes on hers. She swallowed and he stepped closer, his thundering heart the only sound he could hear. He lifted his hand and traced her jaw with his fingertips.
She leaned her cheek into the palm of his hand and the corners of her lips curved into a smile. “Dalton?” she whispered.
He leaned forward, his lips hovering over hers. He couldn’t think straight, not with her so close, her hot breath on his wrist, her green eyes wide and inviting. His lips met hers and he backed her up against the wall of the house, cupping both cheeks between his hands. She tasted like butter and syrup, and she melted beneath his touch. She moaned against his mouth as her hands crept around his neck, and his body trembled.
A loud beeping sound jolted them both. Dalton lifted his head and turned to peer down the driveway. A Chevy pickup roared into view, horn blaring. He frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. “Eamon …” With a shrug, he waved a hand over his head.
“Who is it?” asked Hazel behind him.
“My little brother.” Reluctantly, he pulled away, headed down the stairs and across the yard.
As he reached the truck, Eamon cut the engine, opened the door and jumped out with a whoop. “Hey there, big brother!”
Dalton grabbed him in a bear hug and slapped him hard on the back. “Eamon! Good to see you, man. I wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon.”
Eamon laughed, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I could see that! But I decided to drive through the night – I wasn’t doing much, and I figured traffic would be easier that way. Besides, I had help.” He banged a hand on the chassis, and another man slid into view from beneath the dash. He nodded at Dalton and snapped off a sharp salute.
“Parker!” Dalton cried, rushing around to the passenger side. Parker stepped out, and Dalton wrapped his arms around him, then stepped back to study his face. His eyes were still ringed with dark circles and his smile shallow and fleeting. “You came. I hadn’t heard back from you, so I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Well, I couldn’t let the two of you have all the fun without me, now could I?”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Eamon slapped Dalton on the back. “Help me with the bags?”
Dalton nodded and hurried to lift two bags from the truck bed. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He loved it when the three of them were back together, even if only briefly – it felt as though anything was possible and nothing insurmountable. With the three Williams boys working together, the ranch couldn’t fail.
“Tell me now, who’s this?”
Eamon’s question as he reached the porch made Dalton’s heart lurch. His brother had a way with women that couldn’t be denied. Any time the three of them went out together, it was always Eamon who ended up dancing with the prettiest girl in the room. He didn’t breathe again until saw heard Hazel introduce herself and shake his hand. A gentle breeze ruffled her soft curls, and a wave of protectiveness washed over him.
By the time Dalton caught up, they were in the foyer. He set down the bags and crossed his arms. “So I see y’all have met.”
Eamon cocked his head, a teasing smile on his face. “Yeah, no thanks to you and your lack of manners. You’ve been holding back, brother.”
Dalton ignored the glint in his brother’s eyes. “Well, Hazel’s leaving tomorrow, so …,” he replied gruffly.
Hazel just smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about both of you – though Dalton didn’t tell me you were so charming.”
Parker blushed. “Pleased to meet you, Hazel. Dalton, do you think I could get settled in my room? It’s been a long night and I need some shuteye.”
Dalton nodded and picked up Parker’s rucksack again. “Of course – fol
low me. It’s not fancy, but it is clean.”
Parker chuckled. “I wouldn’t know what to do with fancy.”
Dalton led the way down the hall and got Parker settled in one of the spare bedrooms. He was grateful for the sheer size of the place now, and how it was fully furnished when he’d arrived. Some cleaning and a trip to Target for linens, towels and pillows had been all it took to complete the guest rooms. Parker immediately kicked off his sneakers and lay back on the bed with a groan.
“Rest up,” said Dalton, noting those worrisome dark circles again. “There’s plenty of time later for work.”
Parker nodded and shut his eyes, his hands laced behind his head.
Dalton quietly pulled the door closed behind him and stood a moment in the hallway listening to the low murmur of Eamon and Hazel’s conversation in the living room. He sighed and his heart plummeted. Any feelings he’d thought Hazel had developed for him were likely already scampering rapidly from her mind – Eamon was here, and he knew she’d have eyes only for him. It never failed.
Chapter 8
Late that evening, when Dalton and his brothers came in from an afternoon of cleaning up debris and fixing the fence destroyed by the twister, Hazel was making them dinner. She hadn’t contributed much to the cleanup, especially with her sore foot, so she felt the least she could do was to feed the men. Or try to. She pushed pieces of breaded chicken around the frying pan, smoke hovering over her like a cloud. When she added another piece, the hot oil spat, sending her stumbling backward.
Dalton pushed the kitchen door open and coughed. “What the …?”
She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and blinked stinging eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replied. “Why is the smoke so thick in here?”
Just then, the smoke detector started keening, drowning out every other sound. Dalton rushed to open the back door and all the kitchen windows.
Hazel turned off the burner, noticing that the breading on the chicken looked a tad dark. “I don’t think anything’s burned,” she cried. “It’s just very smoky!”
Dalton grabbed a broom from behind the pantry door, stood on a kitchen chair and used the handle to press the button on the smoke detector. The beeping stopped.
Hazel wiped her forehead in relief. “Thank you.”
He glanced at her, and she thought she saw frustration and longing in his eyes. Was he remembering their kiss that morning? She hadn’t been able to think about anything else. All day long she’d been on tenterhooks, waiting for him to come in, wondering if he’d say anything about it. He’d barely made eye contact with her since his brothers’ arrival, and she wondered if maybe he regretted it all – the moment, the vulnerability, the passion.
He raised an eyebrow. “Need help?”
“Yes, please.”
He walked over to the stove, checked the fried chicken in the pan, then moved it piece by piece onto a paper-towel-covered plate to drain. Freed from that worry, she pieced together a salad, set plates on the counter and piled silverware on them, and carried all of that out to the porch to set the outdoor table. Dalton transferred the chicken to a bowl and followed, placing it at the center of the table.
She turned back for the salad dressing, and ran right into his thick chest again with a cry.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping to one side and grinning. “We have to stop doing that.”
She tried to step aside too, but went the same way and bumped into him again. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he smelled of soap and aftershave.
He chuckled, and her cheeks burned as he lifted her face toward his with a finger beneath her chin. “It looks and smells delicious. I … guess we should talk about this morning …” He trailed off.
She opened her mouth to reply – and the front door slammed open. Parker and Eamon fell laughing through the door, and Dalton frowned. “Hey, where’s the fire?” asked Eamon, pushing Parker in the back. Parker dropped his shoulder and stepped sideways to shove his brother, who stumbled and thudded into the wall. “Ooomph! Hey!”
“No fire,” said Hazel, pulling free of Dalton and walking past him toward the door. “It was just me making fried chicken.” She returned to the kitchen and gathered the ranch dressing, hot sauce, salad tongs and a pile of napkins, then came back out to find the brothers all seated around the table.
“I’ll get drinks,” said Parker, standing back up.
Hazel set everything on the table and sat next to Eamon, across from Dalton. Dalton look sour, but she couldn’t imagine why – perhaps the presence of his brothers, though he loved them, made him a little tense. Or maybe he’d just wanted to talk about their kiss when Eamon and Parker came outside.
She’d resented the interruption, but was also grateful for it. If he planned to tell her their kiss was inappropriate and a mistake, she didn’t want to hear it. It might be the truth, but her heart slumped at the thought of it. And yet, if he’d told her he cared for her and wanted more, she wasn’t sure how that could possibly work. The idea filled her with hope, but the knowledge of the impossibilities involved drained it right back out again.
Dalton said the blessing, then they passed the food around the table and served themselves. Hazel reached for the 2-liter bottle of Coke that Parker had set on the table and poured herself a glass. The men talked and joked, catching up on all they’d missed in each other’s lives. She ate quietly and listened, enjoying how Dalton’s eyes sparked when his brothers ribbed him, or gleamed when they mentioned home.
Eamon glanced her way, noticing her silence. “Tell me about yourself, Hazel. Dalton said you’re a vet, but I don’t really know anything else about you. Where do you live?”
Hazel swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Virginia-Highland. It’s near the center of Atlanta, right by Piedmont Park.”
“That sounds nice. I’ve been to Atlanta a few times, but don’t really know it well. What do you do for fun there?” He had the same dimple in his cheek as Dalton, and she felt her face warm under the intensity of his gaze.
She shrugged. “Same things anyone does. I go out to dinner with friends. There are shows and concerts all the time, so my roommate Jen and I go to a lot of those …” Her eyes widened as she realized her blunder – she’d mentioned Jen, which she’d been careful not to until that point. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter, since none of them knew who she was. She quickly took a bite of chicken and focused on her plate.
But when she glanced up, she noticed Dalton’s narrowed eyes on her. He frowned, laid his fork down beside his plate and picked up the bottle of hot sauce, his eyes never leaving her. Her heart plunged into her stomach. He knew – or at least suspected – something.
“So, Hazel, what do you think of this stallion my brother here bought?” Parker’s voice was gentle and his eyes crinkled at the edges as he spoke. “He tells me the fella’s gonna produce some award-winning offspring, but I’d be interested to hear what you think, considering the pretty penny Dalton spent on him.”
Hazel swallowed, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. “Um … well, he’s a fine animal …” She took another bite of chicken, her heart racing.
Dalton interrupted her, his voice cold. “Though perhaps we should ask Jen about that instead of Hazel.”
She stopped chewing and her gaze met his, her eyes widening. She swallowed hard and set her fork down on the table. “Er …I…?”
“Yeah, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Swanson from Green Peach Ranch a few days ago. He told me he sent a vet named Jen down here with Contessa’s Charity and didn’t have any idea who Hazel might be. I thought maybe you had an explanation for it. And now I hear that Jen is your roommate. What gives?”
Hazel broke out into a cold sweat. Of all times, why now? Why here?
“What’s going on?” asked Eamon, his head cocked to one side.
“Ask her.” Dalton leveled a glare her way. His lips were tight.
She felt tears prick her eyes as her anger rose
. “I can’t believe you knew all this time and you didn’t say anything. And then you kissed me?! How could you do that, knowing what you do?”
Eamon and Parker exchanged an anxious glance. Eamon stood, picked up his plate and nodded toward the door. “You know, if y’all don’t mind I think I’ll go eat in front of the TV. I think SportsCenter comes on in a minute …”
“Oh, good idea – I want to catch up on the NFL news!” Parker stood as well and the two of them hurried inside the house, the front door slapping closed behind them.
Dalton sighed and ran his hands over his face.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The heck with it. “I’m not a vet,” she began.
“No kidding,” he snarled, closing his eyes.
She stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “Well, I’m leaving tomorrow, so I guess there’s no point saying any more about the matter.” A tear trailed down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away.
He stood as well, and stepped in her way so she couldn’t rush inside like she meant to. He lifted a hand and ran it down her arm, making her skin prickle. “You don’t have to go.”
She blinked, stunned. “I don’t?”
“No. Look – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that – not then, anyway. I meant to talk to you about it privately, not in front of them.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. He still sounded angry. “Do you even want to hear my side of the story?”
“Hazel, not only do I want to, I think you owe it to me. Why would you pretend to be a vet? What do you expect to get out of it?”
She fumed at his insinuation. “I don’t expect to get anything out of it. You think I wanted to do this? I did it for Jen – she’s the vet. Yes, she’s a little crazy and she was high on drugs when she asked me … wait, let me rephrase that – she’d just had her appendix removed and was doped up on painkillers. But she’s like family to me and she really needs this job and she was sure it would just be a day or two and she begged me, so I did it. I know, it’s ridiculous, but there it is. I did it for her.”
