by Amy Marie
Dad stayed at his position in front of the stove, holding a spatula in the air absently as his gaze moved from Emma to Ryder. The old mans lips were pulled tight with a suppressed grin and Ryder hoped Emma hadn’t noticed.
“Well there you are, Ryder,” Dad said as he righted his expression. “You forget your manners, boy? We have company. Quit standing there like a mule and get Emmason here some coffee.” He pointed the gravy-tipped cooking utensil at the coffee pot.
“Oh, I shouldn’t.” Emma spoke, saving him from the response he’d not yet come up with. “I think I’ve had enough coffee to keep me up for days.”
Ryder took a step into the kitchen before remembering that he was still wearing his tan Stetson hat. Taking a step back, he dropped it onto a hook before returning. This kitchen had rules, even if they were ancient ones, and hats were a no-go.
He glanced at Emma briefly before opening the refrigerator and grabbing the apple juice. There were other options inside, but offering her anything else would be pointless. He already knew that she’d argue that biscuits and gravy did not mix with orange juice. A fact that they had argued on more than one occasion.
He said nothing as he pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it before placing it in front of her.
“Thank you.” The words were almost a whisper, and she gave him only a cursory glance before looking down and smoothing out the wrinkled corners of the placemat in front of her.
While it was now customary in the MacIntosh household for them to dish themselves up at the stove, his father was pulling out the big guns when he carried the hot pans to the table and set them out on potholders. That was fine dining in this place.
Emma was sitting in his seat, making him pause. Should he sit next to her? Leave a space between them?
Her red fingernail polish caught his attention as she straightened her paper napkin, and he stared at her tiny fingers. She’d always had short nails, finally giving up trying to grow them out as she was always breaking them on the ranch. Now, they were long and painted to perfection. Except, he paused as he took in one finger in particular on her left hand, her ring finger was missing one oversized diamond.
“You gonna sit down and eat, or just stand there all morning?”
Leave it to his dad to make him feel even more awkward than he already did. He moved quickly at the words and took the seat next to Emma. It was the closest to where he was standing, he reasoned.
“Now, I want to hear all about what you’re up to these days.” His dad spoke as he piled an oversized serving of biscuits and gravy onto Emma’s plate.
“She’s tired, Dad. Maybe give her a few?”
She turned to face him now, her eyebrows pulling together slightly in…confusion? His dad was coming off a bit intense, as if this was the first opportunity he’d had in years to participate in an actual conversation. Come to think of it, his dad had always been a man of few words but with each year, those words seem to lessen and lessen.
“It’s fine.” She faced forward again and smiled another regretful smile.
The smiles she was passing out were far too timid for his Emma. His. Damn, he needed to stop thinking she was still his, or he was going to slip up and say something stupid. Emma had been voted “best smile” in their senior superlatives and while not all their classmates had maintained their distinctions, he knew for a fact that her wide smile hadn’t diminished. It improved even, not that she given so much as a hint of that smile since he’d walked into the kitchen, but he’d seen in in New York. When she wasn’t scowling at him, of course.
“There’s not much to tell, really. I graduated from school and immediately got a job where I’ve been working ever since.” She took a careful bite of her breakfast and closed her eyes as his dad’s famous recipe hit her taste buds.
“Cornell, right?”
His father’s response surprised them both, and she nodded with a smile. Talking about Emma, and her mother, was a subject that had been off-limits for so long it had turned into an unspoken rule. It was Ryder who had banned even the mention of her name, but his dad tested the waters regularly when it came to her. She was always the daughter he never had, and even when things ended so badly with Emma’s mom, Marian, he never did let go of that idea. Neither of the men would speak Marian’s name though. That rule had been set in stone and sealed with blood long ago.
She only nodded her response, but this time when she smiled, her eyes brightened slightly.
“Well, now that you’ve seen the world, are you a city girl or a country girl?” Dad grinned as if he already knew the answer.
They both waited as she considered it. It had been six years since she’d returned to their part of the world, and that, coupled with the fact that her strappy sandals showed that her toenails were polished the same shade of red as her fingernails…he was going to go with city girl.
“Hard to say.” She readied another bite of her breakfast before she continued. “I still like to think of myself as both.”
The annoyed huff left Ryder’s lips before he knew to stop it. He believed that about as much as he believed in the tooth fairy.
The glares that greeted him when he looked up were saying a lot. His dad was mentally scolding him for not acting like the man he raised, and Emma… Well, she was…daring him? Oh, he could go head to head if that’s what she wanted.
Just as he was about to open his mouth with a challenge, he caught his dad’s gaze again. It didn’t matter that he was a grown man of twenty-five, he closed his lips. Because, respect. If his mama was still here, God rest her soul, he didn’t doubt that she’d pop him in the mouth no matter his age.
Instead, he focused on finishing his breakfast. He tried to focus on his breakfast, rather. Sitting next to her had been a stupid decision. He couldn’t look at her when he wanted because his movements would be too obvious, so he kept his head down, where he got a generous look at her legs. It wasn’t actually a generous look, he corrected himself mentally. She was wearing capris, so the only skin he could take in was at midcalf. That didn’t stop his mind from wandering though. And her smell. This was a ranch. The only feminine and delicate smells that graced this place was during the cooler months, when his dad would bring in bouquets of bluebonnets. It was one of the many constants in his life, and he pretended that he didn’t know his dad did it in memory of his mom. Like the flower, her scent was delicate, barely there, yet it filled him somehow until the very scent evoked so much emotion and memory he was overcome with it.
“Well, pretty girl,” his dad started as he gathered his plate and stood from the table. “I know better than to think you came here just for a leisure visit, but right now there’s too much work to be done.”
Emma pulled her napkin from her lap and put it on her plate, and Ryder ignored the fact that her appetite had lessened considerably since he’d known her last.
“Yes, I’m sorry for coming so early.”
“Now I don’t want to hear any I’m sorry’s.” He pointed a weathered finger at her before he continued. “You get some sleep, and we’ll talk about the reason you’re here at dinner.”
She didn’t argue. There was no arguing with the old man, a fact that she knew along with everyone else who’d ever met him.
“I’m just going to go into town and get a room. Be back around six?” she questioned.
“Dixie’s is closed,” Ryder cut off his dad before he could answer. His fist went to his mouth as he cleared his throat. “Renovations after a fire.”
“Don’t be silly. You can stay here. You know we’ve got more than enough room.”
That was quite the understatement. He stopped his smile before it formed, thankful his dad had his back on this one. Dixie’s was the only hotel in their town with a meager population of eight thousand, and it had been closed for renovations…about three years ago. The fire was old news, but he seriously doubted she’d been a subscriber to the Jackson Squire Newspaper while she’d been busy living her life in the city.
“I shouldn’t.” Emma looked away quickly, and he could see her wheels turning, trying to come up with another option when she knew damn well there wasn’t one.
“Ryder will get your things and take them up to the guest room, and you get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Nothing else was said as his dad exited the house, and Emma didn’t look at him until the screen door banged with finality.
“Did you bring your things inside, or are they still in the car?” Ryder asked, suddenly realizing that it was the first full sentence he’d spoken to her since New York. And even then, she didn’t know it was him she was speaking to.
“In the car. It’s just one bag, but I can get it.” Another closed-lipped smile.
There were a million ways to make Emma smile, and he remembered each of them as clearly as he remembered the prayers his mama had taught him as a boy. The first thing that came to mind was the ticklish spot against her ribcage, just beneath her breast.
He shook his head, not only in response to her statement but also to try to rid the mental picture from his mind. “Go on upstairs, and I’ll bring your things.”
He didn’t wait for an objection and turned on his heel, grabbing his Stetson from the hook before heading out to her car.
Chapter 9
Emma
Emma climbed the stairs to the second floor, letting her hand run across the smooth mahogany banister with each step. Being back here was as much of the time warp as she expected. That, she was prepared for, as much that was possible, anyway. The other things, like what it would feel like to be so close to Ryder again, those things she knew there was no telling until it happened. As much as she’d tried to ready herself for seeing him again, and as many scenarios as her mind could imagine, it was answered the moment she saw him walking into the kitchen. It was the worst-case scenario.
She opened the door to the guest room and stepped inside, unsurprised to find it was exactly the same. The room was still dark, the sun not quite making it over the horizon, but she could still see the cherry wood of the furniture and the flowered quilt atop the queen-size sleigh bed. She’d never look at bluebonnets without thinking of Ryder’s mother. She’d passed away years before Emma and Ryder met, but she’d held on to every little detail he’d told her.
Her fingertips ran across the handmade quilt, and she jumped slightly when she felt Ryder behind her.
“Sorry.” He tipped his head as he set her bag down on the armchair next to the window.
She didn’t respond, not really sure what to say. She just watched him, just as he was watching her. His messy blonde curls were on full display during breakfast, and even though he’d been sporting a pretty serious case of hat hair, it was stupidly endearing. Now, the waves of his hair were hidden beneath his cowboy hat. Damn, he looked good in that hat.
She desperately wanted for him to smile so she could see the dimple on his left cheek. He hadn’t smiled all through breakfast, and she’d been paying attention, waiting for it to make its debut. He was all about the disapproving glares when it came to her, and that caused more than a little bit of distress in the pit of her stomach.
Ryder shifted uncomfortably, and her eyes automatically moved to his boot-clad feet and up the denim of his snug jeans. She was used to seeing men dressed in tightly fitted clothing, something that she couldn’t understand for any man other than a cowboy. The tightness of a cowboy’s jeans had nothing to do with fashion, but they sure were pleasing to the eye.
“You’ll be here when we get back?” His fingers moved to his chin, and he rubbed the skin there.
She had to fight back a groan. That was the most endearing, most vulnerable thing she’d ever seen. Maybe. Well, at least the most endearing and vulnerable thing she’d seen in a very long time.
She had to swallow past the lump in her throat, and fearing her words wouldn’t come out without a hitch, she nodded her response.
He didn’t move. Just stood in front of her as if he was afraid to go. She understood. She was here, in his house, and somehow she felt like it wasn’t real. Like if she closed her eyes for more than a nanosecond, he’d be gone, and she’d be somewhere else. Far away from her past.
“Your—” Ryder took a step toward her but looked away, as if abolishing the thought.
She held her breath, waiting for whatever it was he was about to say, but it never came. He looked down and shook his head.
He reached for her, and for the briefest of moments, his thumb caressed the top of her hand. “Sleep, Buttercup,” he said, never looking back to her as he slowly pulled his hand away, closing the door as he exited the room.
After tossing and turning despite her exhaustion, Emma was finally able to fall asleep, waking only after hearing a tap against her door.
Disoriented, she croaked out a hello once the knock sounded again.
“Emma?”
It was Ryder’s voice, and she immediately wiped the sand from her eyes and sat up, trying to right her hair. She needed a shower.
When the door started to pull open, she threw her arms down into her lap, as if she wasn’t just desperately trying to improve her disheveled appearance. Sleepily, she smiled at him and tried to ignore just how incredibly sexy he looked, his skin reddened from the sun, and sweat creating a sheen across his skin.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Did you sleep well?” He frowned slightly, and his concern for her hit her like a cinderblock. She didn’t deserve it.
“Um, yeah. Good.” She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter.
“Dad wants to know if the city turned you into a vegetarian.” He grinned and showed her that adorable dimple at his cheek.
She couldn’t help but return his smile, not when he pulled out the big guns. “Considering the fact that I ate his famous biscuits and gravy this morning, it’s safe to say I am still very much a meat-eater.”
He chuckled slightly before continuing, “That was exactly my response. He said that even if you’d given up meat there was no chance you’d come here and not have his biscuits and gravy.”
Lord, that smile. It was deadly. It had been deadly when she was fifteen, and now… Well, suffice it to say that the fantasies of her teens had developed quite a bit over the years.
“Be downstairs in thirty?”
“Sure.” She hopped from the bed and went to her bag, knowing that if Bill was going to have dinner ready in thirty her butt better be downstairs and ready to eat in time.
She was already in the bathroom when she heard the bedroom door close and had to pull herself from the daydream where he remained inside the room, slipping through the unlocked bathroom door and into the shower with her. That would not be happening. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to just think about it… No! She reprimanded herself almost immediately.
She was in trouble.
Chapter 10
Emma
Exactly thirty minutes later, Emma followed the long staircase down to the main floor and entered the kitchen. The very smoky kitchen.
“Everything okay in here?” she asked, her eyes involuntarily squinting through the burning smoke.
Bill was standing just beneath the smoke detector waving a broom at the thing while a skillet sat on top of the stove, an unidentifiable black blob marring its surface.
“Yeah,” he answered from over his shoulder, “although I can’t say the same for our dinner.”
He stopped fanning the broom and smiled regretfully just as Ryder entered the kitchen.
“What happened?” Ryder’s eyebrows pulled together slightly as he took in the scene.
“Yeah, I was just telling Emma here that our dinner didn’t fair so well. I’m afraid I’m not up for cooking anyway. Would you guys mind running to town for me? The festival is going on, and they’ve got that brisket I like so much.” He trailed off as his eyes moved between Emma and Ryder.
“I’d really appreciate it,” he pushed.
“Of course.”
<
br /> “No problem.”
Emma and Ryder spoke at the same time.
“Great.” He dropped the burnt pan in the sink and left the kitchen a bit too easily.
“Alright,” Emma started, letting the word hang, nervous.
When she’d gone through her bag to find something to wear, she’d been surprised to find that Sommer had replaced all of her comfy clothes with much cuter and a lot less comfortable ones. The sundress she selected was casual with a floral print, and also, short. It hadn’t felt short when she put it on upstairs, but now, well, if the way Ryder was looking at her legs was any indication, it was too short. She pulled at the hem slightly, willing more fabric to appear, but it didn’t.
“You ready to go?” Ryder asked when his eyes finally managed to make their way above her neck.
“One minor problem.” She was embarrassed. How exactly she’d neglected to pack another pair of shoes was beyond her. Well, not really, considering her headspace. “I don’t have any shoes other than the ones I was wearing when I got here.”
When he said nothing and just stared at her she continued, “They don’t exactly work for what I’m wearing.” Sure, she could make it work, but she was hoping there might still be some of her things here.
Sticking up a finger, he grabbed her hand and led her to the mud room.
“I’m pretty sure there’s an old pair of your boots in here.” He pulled open a trunk and started going through it until he pulled out an old pair of black cowboy boots.
Her face lit up at the sight of them. “Wow, these bring back a lot of memories,” she mused as she took them from him. They had been a present from Bill, and the fact that she’d left them here when she went off to college surprised her.
“Will those work?”
With one hand against the wall, she pushed her socked foot into the boot, pressing her heel to the ground as her foot went into place. “Perfect.” She smiled.
