Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2)

by Amanda McIntyre

  “He’s sleeping soundly. But I turned on the cool mist vaporizer, as a precaution,” she said. “As to the house rule. I’ve taught you well, darlin.” Aimee patted his shoulder “Rebecca, this peach pie looks totally sinful. I’m probably going to need another piece.” Aimee smiled at Liberty as she patted her tummy.

  Kyle touched his mother’s arm. “Mom, please, may I learn how to rope?” he asked.

  Chapter Two

  Hank watched as Julie debated how to respond. Her oldest son, who rarely showed interest in anything but video games, held her gaze, seeking her approval.

  Her brother, Clay, tossed her a cautionary glance. His relationship with his nephews since their arrival was a natural extension of the long-distance connection he’d maintained with them through video games.

  “Fine,” she said. “But promise me you’ll be careful.” She cast a pointed look at her brother. “And I’m holding you responsible if anything happens to him.”

  Clay winked and raised his hand to offer a high five to his young nephew. “Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys,” he sang off-key.

  A round of catcalls followed. Hank smiled, enjoying watching Julie interact with the family he’d come to know almost better than his own. They were salt-of-the-earth folk and he knew Julie had nothing to worry about with either of her sons in the care of Michael and Wyatt.

  Hank turned to his long-time friend. “Clay, Dalton mentioned the other day something about you being chosen as marshal for the Frontier Days parade. Congrats, man, that’s quite the honor.”

  Sally beamed proudly at her husband. “They are planning to honor all the veterans in End of the Line and the surrounding towns,” she said. “We’re hoping to coincide it with the train depot opening since a great many vets returned via the train after World War II. I think it was a bus terminal during the sixties.”

  “And we have veterans living still in the assisted living home. We’re planning on finding a way to transport them on a flat bed, if we can find a way to secure a few wheelchairs,” Rein offered.

  “You know, come to think of it, I think Nan over at the sporting goods store may still have a short flatbed out on the farm. Her husband used it to haul hay bales back when the farm was operational,” Wyatt said. “I can check into if you’d like me to.”

  Rein nodded. “That’s a great idea. And Mr. Saunders over there can lead the parade around the square. You been practicing your princess wave, man?” he asked with a grin.

  Clay shot Rein a look as much as to say what he could do with his remark.

  “Hey, Jules, how are the plans coming along? Sally mentioned you’re getting your committee together.”

  Julie finished a bite of her pie, and washed it down with a sip of wine. She smiled, looking as though she was happy to have a topic she was more comfortable in discussing. She dived right in, her enthusiasm evident. “Emilee actually came up with the idea of a frontier-days cook-off. We were thinking of maybe having a contest for campfire recipes.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Aimee leaned back, shifting her body, it seemed, to accommodate the growing baby inside her. This wasn’t her child, but she loved it as though it was her own. She and Wyatt had been blessed with a healthy baby boy last summer. They’d named him Ezekiel after Jed’s great-great grandfather Christian Ezekiel Kinnison, who had once served in the Union Army during the War Between the States. After a brief time in Colorado, he and his family had moved to Montana, and the rest, as Wyatt likes to say, is the Kinnison legacy.

  Rein and Liberty had had a number of unsuccessful attempts at getting pregnant before agreeing to become foster parents, and they eventually added Cody to their family through adoption. Soon after, Liberty got pregnant, but miscarried early. Tests run showed that she was not able to carry to term. It was Aimee and Wyatt who stepped forward to suggest they find a surrogate to carry the child. And it was then that Aimee offered to carry their child herself. They began the process right away, and Aimee announced she was pregnant just after the first of the new year, due in late November.

  Even after all these years, Hank still marveled at how the close-knit family steadfastly supported one another. He was similarly impressed by how warmly Julie and her boys had been welcomed both at the ranch and by the community. They’d been given a cabin to live in and Betty had offered her a good job with benefits. Still, Hank imagined that their kindness was a bit overwhelming, given the years Julie had spent living under the thumb of an abusive and controlling husband.

  “Jerry will be all over this cook-off,” Michael said. “I remember when he and Betty used to travel down to Texas for cook-off contests when they were just starting up the diner. He won a lot of contests in his day.”

  “That’s what I understand,” Julie interjected. “We were thinking maybe he’d head up the judging for the event.”

  Michael nodded. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

  Julie smiled. “In fact, we’ve had quite a time pinning down impartial judges in this town with so many of us involved in the diner and the bakery. But I think I’m going to suggest Reverend Cook and maybe Nathan from the drugstore. Nan has agreed to take over our veteran’s float with Clay as Grand Marshall.” Julie nodded toward her brother.

  “Oh, which reminds me.” Sally looked at Julie. “Don’t we have a meeting coming up?”

  Julie had to stop and think. “I think we decided Tuesday afternoon at the diner.”

  Tuesday. Hank mentally slapped himself. He’d forgotten that he had to meet a client in Chicago in the morning—a wealthy, retired corporate president from Chicago and some of his friends who were going to a posh Arizona resort for their annual golf trip.

  He’d only be gone a few days, but given the awkward proposal, perhaps it was a good time to step back and give Julie some room to think.

  Sally nodded. “I’ve got to write that down in my planner,” she said. “As soon as I can find it.” She laughed.

  “Check the toybox,” Clay suggested.

  A squawk from one of Clay’s and Sally’s eighteen-month-old twins imprisoned in the playpen demanded attention.

  Hank watched awestruck as one of the girls struggled to remove her sister’s sock, much to the twin’s dismay. Persistent squeals turned into a loud a howl as the affronted sister brought a toy horse down promptly on her sister’s head.

  “They really do love each other.” Sally stood and glanced at Clay. “Time to get the girls home. We refer to bedtime as the witching hour,” she said with a wry grin. “Around our house, that can tend to be an organizational challenge.”

  “Nightmare is the word you’re looking for, honey.” Clay chuckled, leaned over the playpen, and picked up both girls, holding them like tiny human footballs under each arm.

  Hank sat a moment observing his friend, and thinking how all of their lives had changed. Clay, switching out plans for a potential football career to become a Ranger in the Army. His sacrifice to his country had taken its toll, until he’d come to the ranch at Dalton’s and Hank’s insistence and had met Sally. Then there was Dalton. Good lord, he’d never thought he’d see the day Dalton Kinnison became a father. Of the four of them who had run around at college together, Dalton was the least likely candidate for fatherhood. But fate had intervened, bringing his first love, Angelique, back to town in the wake of a dangerous relationship. Not long after, he’d discovered that Emilee, who’d been raised by Michael and Rebecca Greyfeather, was his daughter from one night spent with Angelique back in high school. This revelation was followed by a tumultuous courtship, but eventually love found a way and the two were given a second chance. Now married, their family was thriving with Emilee and Sawyer and another on the way.

  Rein, the one dubbed ‘practical with a business head,’ had found love with Liberty, the unexpected surprise of a step-sister to Dalton and Wyatt from their estranged mother. The two had faced much together, nearly losing each other in the process, but love had prevailed once more with the solidarity and
support of the Kinnison clan.

  They’d all faced obstacles, been through the mill and come out with their happily ever afters, as it were. Hank could only hope that he and Julie would be as fortunate.

  ***

  Julie smiled as she gazed at her brother—he’d been through so much. Once a potential pro football player, his deployments as an Army Ranger had squashed that idea when an IED (Improvised Explosive device) took part of his leg, leaving him scarred both physically and emotionally. But accepting Hank’s invitation to visit the Last Hope Ranch had started him down a path of healing. And then he’d met Sally, the town’s elementary school music teacher, and it had changed her brother in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

  When little Ava and Aubrey had first come home from the hospital, Julie had still been reeling from her own life drama, but helping with the girls, seeing her boys with their newborn cousins, had been the key in getting past the initial ramifications of the trauma they’d all experienced.

  Even now, Julie clung to the security of having Clay and his family nearby. And it had been at his advice that she’d visited with Reverend Leslie Cook, pastor of the First Church of Christ, who’d been instrumental in helping Clay wade though some tough emotions when he arrived at the Last Hope Ranch.

  In a flurry of chaos and laughter, everyone helped to gather and pack up what Clay lovingly referred to as their “traveling circus.” With the last harness buckled on the car seats and the playpen stored in the truck bed, Clay and Sally made their rounds with hugs and thanks.

  Kyle pulled his uncle to his level and whispered in his ear. She saw Clay glance at her and nod.

  “Mom, can we stay at Uncle Clay’s tonight?” he asked. Impossibly charming with a wide smile, mischievous blue eyes, and surfer blonde hair like her ex, Julie had to practice caution with this one. He knew no fear and had an independent streak a mile wide. Hank joked that one day he’d be a handful around the ladies.

  “We could help with Aubrey and Ava,” Chris, her youngest, pleaded with soulful brown eyes. He’d been gifted with the Saunders side of the family’s dark brown eyes and impossibly long lashes but also his father’s tendency toward a hair-trigger temper.

  In the past couple of weeks, Julie had convinced Chris to accompany her to see Reverend Cook. Julie had hoped that the pastor’s experience working with troubled teens would help where she hadn’t been able to as of late. Part of the disconnect between them was the anger toward his father and toward God. Seeing his father threaten them with a gun had left a deep scar of betrayal in Chris’s heart. Reverend Cook explained to her that Chris’s anger was a defense against emotions he wasn’t sure how to deal with, that no kid should ever have to deal with.

  “Actually, that’d be great. I could use their help with some stuff I have to do around the house tomorrow, if that’s okay. What do you say?” Clay glanced at his nephews. “You guys up for that?”

  “Yeah!” they answered in unison.

  “We’ve got stuff for them back at the house from the last sleepover,” Sally said, tousling Chris’s hair.

  Julie hugged each of her sons. “I suppose.” She pointed at her brother. “But don’t keep them up too late playing video games.”

  “Come on, Jules,” Clay scoffed even as his mouth curled in a wicked grin. “Would I do that?” He pulled her into a bear hug. “Don’t worry, Sis. They’ll be in bed before midnight.”

  Everyone filtered out onto the front porch exchanging hugs and appreciation for the lovely evening. Congratulations for their engagement was decidedly more subdued.

  Watching the last car drive away, Wyatt placed his arm around his pregnant wife’s shoulder. “You need to get off your feet,” he said.

  “Thank you, Aimee,” Julie said, offering the woman a quick hug. Wyatt shook Hank’s hand. Julie overheard his quiet congratulations before Wyatt draped his arm around his wife’s shoulder and steered her inside.

  The door closed, the lights shut off. Hank and Julie stood alone on the gravel drive. An awkward pause followed. Julie hated the feeling brought on by this recent change in their relationship. She wanted to feel happy, in that giddy, new-love way. And Hank should be happy.

  Instead, there seemed to be a divide between them that she was at a loss of how to bridge. True, setting a date, making a commitment to married life seemed the obvious solution. But there was a disconnect between her heart and head. Reverend Cook had tried to encourage her by saying she needed to give herself time to trust again, to believe in romance again after such a severe betrayal.

  Julie had gnawed long and hard on that thought. Glad for the sort of relationship she had with Hank, she admitted it was based on physical intimacy more than emotional—but even that had been a big step, in her mind. She wasn’t quite ready yet to entrust her whole self—body and soul—to another person.

  “Come on, let’s walk.” He slipped his hand in hers and led her over to the corral where a few of the horses were grazing. The sky was clear, awash with a million stars, and the scent of sweet grass blew with the soft summer night breeze. She loved its clean, calming scent and had been taught by Rebecca that it was often used in cleansing rituals, to remove negative energies.

  Julie rested her arms over the rail and hoped it would aid in relieving some of the tension she felt she’d caused this evening between herself and Hank. The brown mare sauntered over to the fence and nuzzled her hand. Its velvety softness made her smile. She heard Hank chuckle.

  “Seems she likes you,” he said.

  Julie glanced at him. This was the man who’d risked life and limb to come to her rescue. He’d been her rock ever since. His feelings for her were clear as the mountain air and his love apparent in many ways. He deserved more than the milquetoast answer she’d given him. And while she wanted to express her emotions, the truth was, she’d been fooled once by what she thought was true love and it had turned out to be disastrous. How could she know this was any more real than what she’d once felt for Louis?

  “You okay?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look lost in your thoughts.”

  She glanced at him. “I suppose I am. Sorry.” She turned, stepping onto the asphalt service road that wound down in front of the cabins that made up the guest houses of the Last Hope Ranch. The road, put in for ease of traveling the hilly terrain, wound down past the stables and training paddocks. The cabins were spaced far enough apart to allow for privacy, yet close enough to be connected to all the systems required for comfort.

  He caught up to her and took her hand. “Jules, are you having second thoughts about this—about us?”

  He stood there, his heart in his hand, waiting for her to respond with something firm, reciprocal to his emotions. How could she explain that she didn’t want to change the good thing they already had? “It’s not that—"

  He tugged her to a stop. “Not that?” His dark gaze pierced hers in the light of the street lamps dotting the path. Confusion was etched into his handsome face. She couldn’t blame him—she was just as confused by her response. Here was her white knight, ready to whisk her away to a blissful happily ever after. What was wrong with her?

  “I don’t know how to explain what it is I’m feeling, Hank. I’m, afraid you might not understand.” She tried to remember what she’d learned in her therapy sessions, hoping to find the words to adequately explain her reluctance.

  “You know what? Maybe this whole thing isn’t such a good idea.” He edged around her, hands stuffed in his pockets, and started down the road.

  She caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “This is exactly what I was afraid would happen.”

  He paused, eyes fixed on the ground. “You know, Julie, you can say no.” He shrugged and then and looked up at her. “I don’t want you to say yes out of some misguided sense of obligation.”

  “Hank.” She cupped his face and shook her head. “No, that’s not it, either.”

  He turned from her grasp, sighed, and met her gaze. “What are we
doing here, Jules? What’s happening?”

  They stood on the dimly lit path in front of his cabin. As Julie looked at him, time spun backward to the night he’d driven her to the hotel she’d stayed at when visiting her brother at school. She’d suspected even then that he had feelings for her. But disinterested, she’d delicately set them aside, dreaming of bigger and better things—finding a man of substance and social standing, not a man who had lofty dreams and found true richness in a beautiful sunset. But he’d changed. Beyond his broad shoulders and scruffy beard, he’d become comfortable in Wranglers, boots, and a worn bomber jacket he’d picked up in an Army surplus store. The first time she’d seen him walking across the tarmac from his plane, with his confident stride, aviator glasses, and worn ball cap, her heart had done a little flip.

  She searched those dark eyes in the shadows, seeing the tick in his firm jaw as he stared at her, waiting for an answer. She dropped her hands to her sides. “My feelings for you haven’t changed.” She hugged her arms and looked around. “Can we please go inside and talk?”

  They walked in silence to her cabin, where Hank unlocked the door and held it open. Standing in the soft glow of the living room light, she tried to remember if she’d left it on accidently. She noticed two flutes and a bucket chilling with a bottle of champagne at the end of the breakfast island—no doubt more of the great lengths to which he’d gone to celebrate their engagement.

  Without a word, Hank poured each of them a glass. He leaned against the counter. “Go ahead. I’m listening.” He took a long swallow.

  Julie sighed softly. “This isn’t how I wanted this night to end.”