by Elsa Nickle
Ethan rocked back on his heels. “Well, Mrs. B, we’d best go sit down. Looks like the movie’s about to start.” He gave her a nod and put his arm out to guide Laurel back to where his seats were set up.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said as they wove between lawn chairs and picnic blankets. “I didn’t realize Mrs. B would have you ensnared. She can be a bit—”
“Intrusive? Rude? Annoying?” Laurel said, sitting in the chair Ethan had motioned to.
Ethan hid a chuckle and took a seat beside her. “I was going to say she can be a bit much, but yeah, your words work too.”
“She never did like me. The woman tried to give me a B in choir.”
“The nerve.”
Laurel punched his shoulder and he laughed. She sat back in the chair and faced the screen as a slight breeze wove between them. “So, are you a big Dorothy fan?”
He shrugged. “Who’s not?” He grinned. “How ’bout you?”
She tilted her head in thought. “I guess …” Her eyes met his. She shrugged and turned her head back to the screen. “I guess I like the idea of having a home you long to go back to.”
Her words were a sucker punch to the gut.
“I know the feeling.” He spoke under his breath, but the way her eyes flicked back to his made it clear she had heard. As the sun slid behind the mountain, the speakers crackled to life.
Just then, Mrs. Bassencherry came waddling in their direction. Laurel sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me she’s not going to sit by us,” she whispered.
She relaxed a little when the woman passed them, only to tense up again as Mrs. B set up her own chair directly behind them.
Ethan leaned close and kept his voice low and teasing. “Aw, come on. She’s not so bad.”
Laurel’s eyes shot daggers at him, but she didn’t say anything as the opening credits appeared on the screen. He could tell that there was no way Laurel would be able to enjoy the movie, not with good old Mrs. B chomping away on her popcorn behind them. There had to be something he could do to take Laurel’s mind off of the town spy.
“I swear,” Laurel hissed, “she’s just sitting back there, judging every single move I make.”
“Probably,” he said.
Daggers again. “I just don’t understand why some people feel the need to comment on every detail of my life. What do my choices have to do with anybody else?”
Ethan had a feeling the question was about more than just Mrs. B. But he felt what she was saying deep down in his core. The feeling that everybody was watching and judging each decision you made. The feeling that your life wasn’t really yours to live.
“People are going to gossip and say what they will. You can’t please everyone.”
“No, I guess you really can’t.” She seemed to deflate then. All the fire gone in a flash.
“But you know what you can do?” he asked, the most ridiculous idea forming in his mind. He flexed his fingers, daring himself to be brave as he channeled his inner Jaxon. “You can give them one heck of a show.” Then, before he could change his mind, he reached out and put his hand on hers. It was the only thing he could think of to get her to stop worrying about Mrs. B and her mom and every other thing weighing her down.
At first she froze. His hand rested awkwardly on top of hers. He hoped he wasn’t sweating too much. What was he thinking? Their relationship was fake. She didn’t want to hold his hand. Idiot.
She moved her hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But then she placed it back, on top this time, entwining her fingers with his. She slid her thumb between his own, sending a jolt of electricity down his arm. Did she mean to do that? Maybe she was just shifting her hand. He responded by gently brushing his finger up and down the length of hers. She spread her hand, making his open in response, and then slowly slipped her fingers up and down the length of his palm. His heart pounded. Everything else, the movie, Mrs. B, the entire town, disappeared. The touch of her fingertips caressing his hand, the feel of her skin, soft and smooth and warm, made his entire body tingle.
He knew he should stop. That getting physical would only lead him down a path he couldn’t go. But man, it felt so good. Her hand nestled into his, and she rested her head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, he felt peace.
And just for that moment, he let himself believe it was real.
Chapter Eleven
If Laurel wasn’t careful, she would trip face-first into the dirt. The lot next to Coyote Glenn where she parked her mom’s car was uneven and filled with pebbles—she knew she shouldn’t have worn heels to an event at a cattle ranch. Especially not when she was carrying such a huge vase.
She contemplated leaving it in the car and coming back for it later, but Laurel didn’t want to show up empty-handed. She had traded Ollie a painting for it that morning, and she definitely got the better deal. The vase was rustic and artistically glazed—it would be a perfect replacement for the broken one Laurel had discovered at the Wyles’ ranch. The new vase was wrapped now in brown paper and twine, but that didn’t make it easier to heft. It was still big and heavy, and if Laurel dropped it, it would certainly crack—and then not only would the Wyles have two broken vases, Laurel would have one more thing to be embarrassed about. So the last thing she wanted to do was trip.
She also carried a small gold clutch that held her cell phone and keys. With that balanced on top of the package, each step took all of Laurel’s concentration. If art didn’t work out, maybe she could join the circus.
The vase was a pain to carry, but at least it took her mind off of Ethan for two seconds. Their relationship was supposed to be fake—just a convenient ruse. But something had shifted lately, at least for Laurel. She’d always been attracted to Ethan, but that attraction had turned into interest, and the interest had become a crush, and then the crush had evolved into something that felt like a pained sort of longing. Thoughts of Ethan played on a constant loop in her head—the jolt of joy she felt when he texted her, the heat that spread through her when they shared a ride on his horse, the electricity she felt while he held her hand at the movie. All of it was crossing a line for her, and she needed to stop. He was out of her league in so many ways. And soon, he was going to be out of the state. There was no possible way anything real between them could work out.
Laurel dared to raise her eyes from the uneven ground. The path from the pasture-turned-parking lot on the side of the property led around to the backyard, but the family stood by the front door. A photographer posed the group, the bride in the middle, her reddish hair in an elaborate braid. She glowed with happiness in her flowing white dress. Kitty must not have believed in the superstition about the groom seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding, because Landon was beside her. Out of all the brothers, he looked the most like Ethan with his toffee-blonde hair, blue eyes, and strong jaw. The rest of the group was comprised of an older couple—presumably the bride’s parents—a few grandparents, including the very twinkly-eyed Granny, a young lady that looked a lot like the bride, Audrey in a pretty cream dress, and Skye and Malia. Skye wore a one-shouldered, spring-green dress that flowed to the ground, and Malia looked like she could walk down a runway in her structured yellow frock. Laurel was relieved that her vintage impressionist dress really did seem to fit the style and that there didn’t appear to be any bridesmaids for her to accidentally match or clash with.
Her eyes didn’t linger on the women for long, because the Wyle boys … they were a handsome family. All five of them stood tall in matching dark suits, and maybe it was just for the pictures, but each of their muscled frames was topped with a cowboy hat. Laurel’s eyes stopped on Ethan. He was posing for the camera, not even glancing her way—so it seemed perfectly alright to stare.
He looked good in a suit. Really good. And his face was so expressive. She had seen him serious while he was working, she’d seen him teasing and amused, but the smile he had for his family was on another level. He seemed gloriously happy. Ethan would honestly
be a perfect person to paint, if she painted people.
Laurel snuck a little closer and set her gift down on the ground. She removed her phone from her purse and took a few shots. The photographer asked for just the brothers, and they gathered to the middle while the others stepped away. The men stood in a serious line in front of the wooden door, until one of them cracked a joke under his breath—then they broke down in laughter, ribbing and pushing each other. Laurel held her finger on the button, getting as many pictures as she could.
Ethan glanced in her direction and did a double take. He said something to one of his brothers, held a hand up to the photographer, then jogged over to her.
“Laurel!”
She grinned and shrugged. “I made it.”
He came to a stop a few feet away, scanning from her feet to her face. “You look …” He blew out a puff of air that was almost a whistle. “You look amazing.”
There it was again, that spark of lightning between them. “You clean up pretty well yourself.” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a once-over.
He smiled, and his face was like sunshine. He tipped his hat. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
Laurel laughed. “I do like the hats.”
Ethan slid his hands in his pockets, and he moseyed—that was the only way she could think to describe the slow movement while he wore that cowboy hat—closer to her. “I don’t have much call to wear a Stetson these days, but I guess when someone gets married on a ranch …” He looked up at the brim of his hat.
Laurel tilted her head to one side. “Makes sense.”
One of the brothers was getting impatient. “Hey, you two! We’re not done over here. Come on, Ethan!”
Ethan grinned. “I think we only have a few more family shots to do. Come on over, and I’ll walk you to the yard when we’re done.”
“Alright, you go ahead and finish your pictures. I’ll catch up.”
He nodded and trotted back to the group.
Laurel sighed. He looked good from that angle too.
She put her phone back in her clutch, hefted her gift, and carefully made her way closer to the family.
The photographer was still working on brother shots, some including the bride. They all had a hand on their hats, placing them over their hearts, or in front of their faces. Cowboy hats were a fun prop.
“Hi, Laurel.” Holy crap. Malia Kalama, tan and gorgeous, was standing right next to her. And she knew Laurel’s name. Unfortunately, Laurel’s mouth picked that particular moment to temporarily forget how to work.
They had officially met at The Spirit Room, but Malia had been sitting at the other end of the table, and Laurel had been so flustered about everything else, she hadn’t had the capacity to properly freak out then.
Malia showed her perfect teeth. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk at lunch the other day.”
Laurel remembered how to put together a sentence in the nick of time. “Yeah, I guess I was a little overwhelmed.”
She laughed. “And sitting too far away. The Wyle men are a noisy bunch.”
Laurel moved her gaze to the brothers. One twin was pulling faces and sticking his tongue out for some of the pictures, and she had to assume it was Jaxon. Laurel smiled. “They look like they have a lot of fun.”
“They do. Especially my Jax, who is by far the biggest rascal of the bunch.” Just then, Jaxon popped Ethan playfully in the stomach, and Ethan responded with a quick jab of his own. “I’m glad Ethan seems to be feeling more at home lately.”
Laurel shifted her gift awkwardly. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she uttered a noncommittal, “Hmm.”
Little Audrey was tiptoeing in circles nearby, but she stopped and turned toward Laurel. “My daddy is going to marry Malia in three weeks, so she can be my mommy. She was going to be a movie star, but she’s going to be my mommy instead. Uncle Landon and Aunt Kitty are doing a wedding today, but—”
Malia grabbed Audrey’s hand. “Honey, remember we have some things we are not going to talk about today.”
Audrey pressed her lips together, looking guilty. The exchange struck Laurel as odd, but maybe Malia didn’t want Audrey to talk about her today. Maybe she wanted all the attention on the bride and groom. Laurel wanted to put her at ease. “It’s okay if Audrey wants to talk. I’m sure you have an amazing love story. I mean, how does someone from Hollywood end up in Bisbee?”
Malia slowly shook her head. “Our story could be a movie.”
Jaxon sauntered over and tipped his hat. “Hello, Ethan’s date.”
Malia rolled her eyes. “Her name is Laurel.”
Jaxon looked offended. “I know, I know. Sorry if that was impolite. Hello, Laurel.”
Audrey threw her arms around one of his legs. “And hello to me, too, Daddy.”
“Oh, that’s right. Hello to this little girl. What’s your name again, sweetheart?” He scooped her up and swung her around as she squealed and laughed out her name. He slowed and set her on the ground. “She’s pretty excited today because she gets to be a flower girl. I hope she hasn’t been talking your ear off.”
Audrey grabbed her dad’s arm. “Oh no. I haven’t been talking to anyone about the secret. I’ve been very good.”
The secret? Was that what Malia had meant by not talking about certain things today? Laurel would have thought nothing of it if Jaxon hadn’t scrunched up his nose for a second like he’d sucked on a lemon. Maybe there was something the girl wasn’t supposed to say. But Jaxon’s face relaxed and he chuckled. “I guess that’s good, baby girl.” He grabbed her hand and started to lead her away. “Why don’t we go get prepared for your petal-dropping job, huh? It was nice seeing you again, Laurel.”
Malia shrugged her shoulders. “I would tell you he’s usually better behaved, but that would be a lie.” Jaxon twisted back so the ladies could see him wag his eyebrows up and down. Laurel held in a laugh. They seemed like a fun couple. And Malia was really down-to-earth for an actress. Maybe Laurel didn’t need to freak out in her presence after all.
The photographer dismissed everyone but the bride and groom. Ethan trotted up again, this time stopping right in front of Laurel, and gestured to her overburdened arms. “Hey, it looks like you’re struggling.” He reached out. “Let me take this huge present off your hands. I’ll run it through the house to the gift table in the back.”
“You can carry it, but I’ll go with you.” She gently handed over the gift. “Be careful. It’s fragile.”
“Dang, this thing weighs a ton! Are you giving ’em bricks, or what?”
“Yep. Don’t tell me bricks aren’t a normal gift.” Laurel rolled some stiffness out of her shoulders.
Ethan chuckled. “Well, let’s hurry. I want to put this down as soon as possible. Who are you? Wonder Woman? How were you holding this for so long?”
They scurried through the front door, but Ethan paused once they hit the kitchen.
“On second thought, if this gift is so fragile, maybe we should keep it away from the party. I wouldn’t want it to fall off the gift table or anything.” The counters were full of glassware and platters piled with fruit, but Ethan found an empty corner and set the gift down.
Laurel smiled. “Sounds good to me. We’ll just have to remember to tell the happy couple they have a gift in here.”
“What is it, anyway?” Ethan leaned back against the counter. “Not bricks … so maybe a small anvil?”
They were alone in the house, and Laurel felt strangely exposed. If she told him she noticed a broken vase in the ranch house, would Ethan think she was judging his family? Or would he think she was silly for caring? Well, he had asked, so she might as well answer his question.
“It’s a vase.”
He cocked his head.
The way Ethan looked at her made Laurel all jittery. “It’s just—I saw the one that got broken at the ranch. It had duct tape holding it together, and I thought that maybe the ranch could use a new one.”
Ethan’s voice s
oftened. “You noticed the vase?”
If only Laurel could control her blushes. “Yeah, I did. I hope that’s okay. I mean, I saw it, and I wondered about it. I thought there might be a better solution than duct tape.”
He pushed gently off the countertop toward her. “That was a vase I made for my mother when I was in high school.”
Laurel’s eyes widened. If this was some sort of connection to the past for Ethan, maybe they wouldn’t want this new vase. Was she trying to replace something that was irreplaceable?
Ethan held up his hands. “Hey, you don’t need to look like you just stepped in a cow pie. Someone broke that vase while I was away. I’ve been mad about it.” He smiled, ruefully. “And you come along and—first of all, notice it. Then, you try to fix it.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Honestly, I can’t think of a more perfect gift.”
Laurel’s muscles all relaxed at once from his assurance; she was so glad she hadn’t accidentally committed a faux pas. But then she saw the gentle longing in Ethan’s eyes, and her muscles tightened for different reasons.
Was that the look Laurel thought it was? If she didn’t know better, she would swear that Ethan wanted to kiss her. The thought made her giddy, but no—it couldn’t be. Laurel was staring at his mouth. She had to stop before she embarrassed herself. She took a tiny step backward, but he took a bigger stride closer—their bodies mere inches apart. She gasped at the nearness that was almost a touch, the air warm between them. He raised a tentative hand and moved it softly to her face. He targeted her lips with his eyes, and slowly, ever so slowly, leaned in.
Laurel was a statue. Heat surged within her, and she could barely breathe for the overwhelming feeling of wanting more—more of his attention, more of their connection, more of his hands on her. She had to remain so still, or she would surely ruin this moment. Was he teasing her, or was he actually interested? His lips got closer and closer until she couldn’t mistake his meaning. Ethan was going to kiss her.
