Wicked Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 3)

by Amber Kelly

  Xander is not having it. The dam has already opened, and I can see the disappointment all over Melinda’s face as she silently accepts that birthday chocolate chip pancakes are probably not in her future.

  “It’s okay, Momma. We can get pancakes another day. I’m really not that hungry,” she lies as cheerfully as she can manage.

  Xander has slid under the booth and thrown himself on the floor at their feet.

  “You know what? I bet Andy already has those pancakes on the griddle, and a birthday girl has to have some kind of cake, so she can blow out candles and make a wish. Why don’t Xander and I just chill right here and you guys can eat while we hang out?” I suggest.

  Sonia smiles at me and nods. She returns to our table to finish eating with her mom as I bend under the table and then lie down beside the wailing child.

  “Oh, Elle, you don’t have to,” Mary starts.

  “I know,” I call up to her. “I want to. I was a fan of hiding under booths when I was little too.”

  Kim brings their food and sets it down on the table beside the booth before walking back to the counter. The three of them grab their glasses and switch over to the table as Mary looks down at us with indecision on her face.

  “We’re good. I promise. Just enjoy Melinda’s birthday breakfast,” I demand softly.

  She nods appreciatively as Kim returns.

  “Did someone say birthday?” she asks as she waves a pack of candles in the air and produces a lighter from her apron pocket.

  Melinda’s eyes light up as they begin to sing.

  Xander is still pitching a fit, so I face him as we lie there. He brings his watery eyes to mine.

  “It’s okay, Xander. You take your time and get it all out. We can hide under here in the dark until you feel better, buddy,” I whisper to him.

  We lie there for probably a good ten minutes or so before he calms down to a hiccup, and Kim’s head pops under the table.

  “Anything I can get you two?” she asks.

  “What do you think, Xander? Want some fries?” I ask.

  “He likes fries with ranch dressing,” we hear Bryson suggest as he shoves pancakes into his mouth.

  “Then, we will have fries and ranch dressing, please,” I tell Kim.

  “Coming right up,” she says with a wink.

  By the time our order arrives, Xander has completely calmed down and is tapping the underside of the booth’s table in a rhythmic pattern. Kim sets a tray down between us with an order of fries and a full bowl of ranch dressing. After a moment of contemplating them, Xander grabs a fry and dips it in the bowl. He sucks all the dressing off it before dipping it again and again.

  He is adorable. He is the spitting image of his big brother with chocolate eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose. His hair is long and hangs in his eyes.

  Once he has had his fill of the creamy goodness, he scoots it out of the way and starts rubbing my hair and twisting it in his tiny fingers.

  “I think you and I are going to be friends,” I whisper to him, and he rewards me with a grunt.

  A pair of dusty boots appears at the end of the table, and then Walker’s head peeks under at us.

  “I thought I recognized those legs,” he says with a grin. “Woman, what are you doing under there?”

  I smile up at him. “I’m sharing an order of fries with a cute boy while his sister enjoys her birthday pancakes,” I say as he eyes the messy tray that Xander shoved to the side.

  He brings his amused eyes back to mine, and then he says to Xander, “Aren’t you a lucky little man?”

  Kim hip-bumps Walker as she brings the bill and a couple to-go cups to the table.

  He grabs the bill off the table before Mary can reach for it, and then he extends his other hand to help me up. I get to my feet and reach back under for Xander, who lets me lift him without a fuss. I hook him on my hip and turn as Walker plucks Melinda from her chair and squeezes her.

  “Happy birthday, littl’n. How old are you, twenty-five?” he asks.

  “I’m seven,” she squeals.

  “Well, I declare. You look so grown.”

  “Give me that.” Mary tries to snatch the bill from his hand, and he raises it out of her reach.

  “No, ma’am. Turns out, I happen to buy every seven-year-old their breakfast on their birthday around here,” he lies.

  “You do?” Melinda asks in wonder.

  “I sure do. Now, you guys had better get going, or you’ll be late for school,” he says as he sets her on her feet.

  Mary assists them with their coats, and I help her get them in the car before returning to find Sonia’s mom already headed back to work. They had my food and coffee put in to-go containers.

  Sonia and Walker are standing at the counter, chatting.

  “Do you mind if Walker gives you a ride back home? I promised Mom I’d go let her dog out before I pick up my brother at work,” Sonia asks.

  “I don’t mind, if you don’t.” I look at Walker in question.

  He picks his cup up from the counter and swings his arm out toward the door.

  “Your chariot awaits,” he says.

  Walker

  “What are you doing in town anyway? Are you following me?” Elle asks as I open my passenger door for her.

  “Nope. Sophie sent me to the bank and the post office for her since the aunts were out. I just stopped in Faye’s to get a cup of coffee before heading back,” I answer before shutting her in.

  I get in and start the truck as Sonia’s car pulls next to us.

  I roll down my window, and she shouts above the engine, “Have fun tonight, Elle, and call me as soon as he brings you back home.”

  Elle leans over the seat to answer her. I use the opportunity to take a deep breath. She always smells like strawberries. It drives me crazy, trying to figure out why.

  “I will, promise,” she yells back as she waves.

  “It’s not a date, huh?” I raise an eyebrow at her as she settles back on her side.

  “It’s not,” she insists.

  “Does he know that?”

  She thinks a moment.

  “I guess so. We’ve been out several times, and he hasn’t so much as tried to kiss me. We enjoy each other’s company, but he’s holding something back. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m not pushing. He’s sweet and funny, and we have a good time together, but it’s definitely friendly, not fiery.” She shrugs.

  “Friendly, not fiery?” I ask as I watch her.

  “Yeah, you know, the kind of passion that is almost painful. Like the two of you can’t seem to sit close enough, and the other just walking in a room causes you to get gooseflesh. Fiery,” she says with a grin.

  Well, damn. It should bother me that little Elle is talking about passion, but it doesn’t. I see the woman inside itching to get out. She’s not a kid anymore.

  “Maybe, one day, he’ll let those walls down, and it will change, but for now, I’m happy just to have a new friend,” she finishes.

  She leans forward, and she reaches for the radio.

  “Whoa, woman,” I say as I block her from putting her hand on any buttons. “You don’t just get in a man’s truck and start messing with his radio.”

  “I was just going to turn it up,” she says with a huff.

  She digs in her bag from Faye’s and pulls out a cinnamon roll. She unwraps it and starts picking it apart one layer at a time before popping it in her mouth.

  She moans, and I almost run off the road. My coffee sloshes in the holder, and she lets out a yelp.

  “What was that?” she asks.

  “Pothole,” I fib.

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me,” I assure her.

  “Is that right? Hmm … I don’t know about that. You seem kind of reckless to me, Walker Reid,” she says playfully.

  “Not when I’m carrying precious cargo,” I reply.

  That brings a tinge of pink to her cheeks
. I love making her blush.

  We ride in silence as she finishes her pastry. A couple of miles before we make it to the entrance of Rustic Peak, big, fat snowflakes start to fall.

  Elle gasps, and her face lights up with delight. “Yay! It’s snowing early this year,” she practically squeals.

  I’ve never seen anyone get as excited about snow as her. She always has for as long as I can remember. We all did when we were young, I guess. We’d sit around at night, praying for a blizzard so school would be canceled. But it lost its magic for the rest of us as we grew up. Most adults find it annoying and inconvenient. It’s something that makes riding the fence harder and causes more work, like needing to overfeed the herds to boost their metabolism and generate body heat and assembling several windbreaks in pastures. But Elle still gets giddy as a little girl.

  “What is it with you and snow?” I ask as curiosity gets the best of me.

  She sits back and shrugs, and then I can see when she decides to share.

  “It reminds me of my parents, I guess. The one memory I have of them is the four of us having a snowball fight. Momma and Braxton ganging up on Daddy and him hiding behind the car. We were all laughing.” She stops and gets a faraway look.

  She continues, “To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s really a memory or just something I dreamed up. I have a photograph Aunt Madeline gave me when I was little. It’s of Daddy, Momma, Braxton, and me. We are standing in front of our house with a snowman. It is lopsided with a wooden spoon for a nose, and it’s wearing a bright red scarf. I think we had just built it. Momma is holding me, and she and I are wearing matching hats and mittens. Daddy has his arm around Braxton, and we are all looking at the camera, smiling. We were happy. I like to think the snowball fight is a memory from that day.”

  “Have you asked Braxton? He could probably tell you.”

  She lowers her eyes and shakes her head. “No. He doesn’t talk about them much. I think it’s painful for him. He was so much older than me. He misses them. But me, I just miss the idea of them.”

  “That’s got to be hard too,” I say because her feelings are just as relevant as Braxton’s pain.

  “It is, and it isn’t. I feel silly for thinking I missed out on something. I got to grow up in a house full of love. With Gram and my aunts, it’s like I had four doting mothers, and between Pop, Jefferson, Emmett, and Braxton, a girl couldn’t feel safer and more protected.”

  “But it’s not quite the same thing, is it?” I ask softly.

  I, too, know what it’s like to miss your mother. Mine might still be above ground, but she checked out on me a long time ago.

  Elle brings her watery eyes to mine. “Not quite,” she admits.

  Now, I understand her fondness for snow. It’s the same as my fondness for the river. It’s not the river itself as much as my memories of Granddad and me in that old fishing boat, spending the days catching and releasing trout while he told me story after story of his childhood. I swear, when I hear the sound of the water moving upstream, it’s like I hear his voice speaking to me.

  As I turn into the gate of the ranch, I start planning. If the snow keeps falling for the next few days, I think a sledding adventure for us all is in order. I’ll mention it to Braxton later.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Elle says as she hops out of the truck.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  Elle

  “So, where do you want me to start?” I ask Sophie as I look around.

  This place used to be Braxton’s bachelor pad before they moved into the house he’d built about a half-mile from here. It is above the main barn. They removed the king-size bed and replaced it with two small desks that face each other, but they left the couch and chair under the window that looks out toward the house and driveway. It has a fireplace, small kitchenette, a bathroom, and a large closet. Sophie converted the closet into a filing and copy room. It makes a great office for Rustic Peak and is considerably more organized than the small corner-bedroom workspace Gram had crammed full of cardboard boxes.

  “That’s your desk. If Dallas left anything in the drawers, just place it in the bin beside the door, and I’ll take it to the bakery later. Walker already ran today’s errands for me because I needed something to go out Priority Mail this morning, but what I mainly need is someone to run to the bank and post office a few times a week, help with filing, and keep the calendar and schedule up to date. I do all the accounts payable and receivable, payroll, supply orders, tracking, et cetera,” she explains.

  “Sounds good. I think I can handle that.”

  She reaches into her tote and pulls out a laptop. “Here is your laptop. Your username is Elle2020, and your password is LilSis—uppercase L and S, no space. It’s already loaded with Rustic Peak’s calendar, and you can sync it with your personal calendar. That way, I know when you are going to be at the stables with Madeline and when you’ll be here. Mine is synced, too, so you’ll always know what I have scheduled and when. You’ll have to stay on the guys for their part. We need to know about any vet appointments, equipment deliveries, moving the herds, when extra workers are scheduled—that sort of thing.

  “Oh, and we are scheduled to attend the Centennial Livestock and Equipment Auction next weekend. I’d love it if you could make it to that too. The guys will split up—with Daddy and Emmett looking at bulls and breed cows and Braxton and Walker looking at heiferettes and equipment. You can help me with recording prices and keeping up with their bidding. I’ll bring along our checkbook, but I have a strict budget I want to stick to. I don’t trust them to keep track of each other’s spending well enough to know if they are going over the allotment.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I love the livestock auctions. I have been going since I was little.” I beam.

  She looks up at me and smiles. “It’s great, having you here. I was going to hire a girl from the church if you said no. But you know this ranch, and you know those boys and how to handle them and their mood swings. You grew up doing all these things, so you know the ropes. I really appreciate it.”

  I take another look around the office. She’s right. This ranch is in my blood, and maybe it’s about time I learn more about it.

  I get to work, getting my desk set up and updating the calendar. Once that’s done, I take the time to get familiar with Sophie’s filing system and then tackle the stack of paperwork she has for me.

  It’s a productive afternoon, and I enjoy spending time with her. She is so smart and driven. She has great ideas and big dreams for the future of the ranch. It’s nice to see it moving in the right direction. I never really thought about the ins and outs of it all. The ranch just always was. To me, it’s simply my home, but it’s more than that. It’s a business, and it sustains a lot of people. It’s fascinating to see how all the cogs and spokes work together to keep it running.

  Once we are done for the day, we close up and head over to help Aunt Doreen and Aunt Ria finish getting supper prepared.

  “How was your first day?” Aunt Doreen asks as the two of us set the table.

  “It was good. I think I’m going to like working with Sophie,” I say. I catch the look she gives Aunt Ria. “What was that?”

  “Excuse me?” she asks innocently.

  “That look you just gave each other?”

  “Oh, nothing. We’re just pleased that you are taking an interest, so neither of us has to fiddle with that computer thing again,” she says.

  I have a suspicion that the two of them didn’t try very hard to figure any if it out. At first, I thought it was just to convince Sophie to stay in Poplar Falls, but now, I think they have their sights set on roping me into staying too. They are sneaky women, both of them.

  The boys drag in one at a time. They look exhausted. Jefferson and Emmett began surveying the land for the new fences today, and Braxton, Walker, and Silas have been on horseback in the snow since noon, adding the windbreaks for the herds. The snow is still light, but the forecast for the
next few days is calling for about six to eight inches.

  “Something smells wonderful,” Emmett says as he removes his hat and hangs it on the hook by the door.

  “It’s chili. I thought you fellas might need something hot and hearty to thaw you out this evening,” Aunt Ria says over her shoulder as she stirs the huge pot on the stove.

  Sophie and I help her fill bowls and pass them out, and then Aunt Doreen places a huge basket of cornbread muffins in the center of the table.

  Pop says grace, and we dig in.

  I devour my bowl and get up for seconds before anyone else.

  “My goodness, you must have worked up an appetite today,” Aunt Ria notices.

  “She didn’t eat her breakfast. She’s probably starving,” Walker replies.

  “You didn’t?” she asks me.

  “Nope. I found her lying on the floor with a boy at Faye’s while her breakfast sat there, getting cold,” Walker answers her and then winks at me.

  Everyone’s curious eyes come to me.

  “Funny, Walker. It was Xander—the little boy you give riding lessons to, Aunt Mad. I saw their family come in after we ordered. Mary was having a hard time because Xander was in a bad mood, so he and I chilled under the table while she and the other kids enjoyed their breakfast.”

  “You chilled on the floor under a table?” Jefferson asks in confusion.

  “We sure did, and we ate a plate of fries under there too. Well, I ate the fries, and he mainly just ate ranch dressing and made a mess.” I shrug.

  “He’s autistic. Sometimes, he becomes overstimulated in public situations,” Aunt Madeline explains to Jefferson. Then, she turns to me. “That was very kind of you, Elle. Mary has a hard time juggling all three of them sometimes. I’m sure she appreciated you doing that.”

  “He’s sweet. I could tell he just needed a minute in the dark to regroup. We’ve all been there before. Who hasn’t wanted to pitch a fit and throw themselves under a table? He just happens to do it when he gets the urge; that’s all. So, we hung out until he settled down, and then he was fine. No reason for anyone to get upset or for her to be embarrassed. I get to eat at Faye’s, uninterrupted, anytime I want. They don’t, and it was Melinda’s birthday, so I didn’t mind missing one meal for them.”