“All I’m saying is, don’t give up on the next generation yet. You’re such a cliché,” she said, shaking her head and laughing.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I sort of raised her from the time she was two years old, so I reserve the right to be a little insane.”
The admission hit her somewhere around the heart. Which made her very uncomfortable. “Oh. Right. I wasn’t...thinking.”
“Our mom left before Kate turned two. Dad might as well have left. Someone had to work, someone had to take care of the baby. Connor and I were an old married couple before we could drive.”
“Eli...”
“Hey, look, I’m over it.” Except he so obviously wasn’t. He wore it as sure as he wore his uniform. His need for order. His need for control. “But the thing is...I think that’s why this place means so much. And why I’m an overprotective crazy person. Because it was all down to Connor and me. And when you have that much responsibility that early, it becomes a part of you in a way it never would otherwise.”
She turned and looked at the barn, at the care that had so clearly gone into it. Evidence of money that could have taken them away from here. That could have taken the Garrett family on to other things. College, maybe. Had any of them gone? Kate was twenty-one and working, so she clearly wasn’t in school.
They had given their all for this place. To hold it together. Because it was what they’d done all of their lives and it was what they continued to do.
For a woman who hadn’t lived in one place for more than a couple of years, it was a level of commitment that was...hideously daunting. It was sticking something out through thick and thin, rain and shine. Old barns and new.
It was choosing to keep on staying even when there was an out. And suddenly all that history, all that intensity, made it feel as though the walls were closing in.
And you’re here for five years.
“Wow,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Anyway, this is great. I mean, if we could do tables, lots of tables in and around here, that would be...excellent. Just so very excellent.” She started to walk back out, quickly, trying to escape the weird, oppressive weight that had settled onto her stomach.
“I’ll have to clear it with Connor. Farmwork getting done is going to be the top priority. But I think we can arrange to have the field just over here cleared for parking, which should make things easy. It’ll all have to be roped off and...well, it’s going to be a big deal.”
“I know,” she said. “But the city is willing to kick in for some funds. And I think I might be able to entice some vendors. Local beers, wines, cheese. And you know, if you wanted to kick in some beef, I think it could end up being really great for the business side of the ranch.”
“Again, I’ll talk to Connor about it. I may need to get him drunk first.”
“He doesn’t have to hang out if people...bother him.”
“Everything bothers him. To be honest, I’m not sure if he’d be any more miserable in a crowded bar than he is alone.”
“I’m sad for him. Your brother seems like a nice guy.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Really, he didn’t. But she’d been searching for something to say and the blanket, insincere words had rolled off her tongue easily. “Fine. He doesn’t seem that nice. But I’m still sorry for him.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t sound like the worst idea, does it? We’ll get pies donated from the diner. We’ll get...fried pickles from Ace’s. We’ll make it a whole thing!”
“You’re really embracing this local spirit. Surprising, all things considered.”
“Yeah, no one is more surprised than me. But I was ready for a change, and at this point, putting down roots is kind of the only way to feel like something’s changed.”
“And change is...”
“Good,” she said, getting back into the truck. “Healthy. I mean, people should change things around them every so often. Especially when life isn’t gelling the way it should.” Practiced lines she’d told herself over and over. “So, why don’t you take me to see that other field?”
“You want to see the potential parking lot?”
“Sure. And anyway, I thought you were supposed to tell me why all my harebrained schemes wouldn’t work.”
“Well, I haven’t come up with a single damn reason why what you’re asking for won’t work,” he said, slamming the truck door. “Do you have any idea how annoying that is?”
“I have a fair idea of how annoying that must be for you. It must really suck.”
“It does.”
But somehow, even he didn’t seem unreasonable right now. He seemed...understandable. Here in this vast, wild place, so carefully tamed by the hands of his family, by him and Connor, she could see what a huge job it had been. Two boys who had been essentially alone in the world, with a sister to care for. She could easily see how much grit and strength it would have taken to hold things together. She wondered if that impossible task was what had built the solid man she saw in front of her. The man who was still doing the same thing. Still trying so hard to hold the pieces together.
Dammit. It made her heart all achy, and that was much more disconcerting than being horny.
They didn’t get very far up the road before Eli stopped the truck again. “Right there,” he said, “we’ll move the cows to another pasture and open up the gates.”
She looked over to where he was pointing and shaded her eyes as she studied the bright green fields, dotted with glossy black animals, their heads down, the sun casting a ripple of light and shadow over muscle and sleek hair.
Yellow flowers popped like little sunbursts across the grass, standing in sharp contrast to the dark green and fading blue of the mountains beyond.
It took her breath away. It reminded her why this place was home.
Which was so strange, because she couldn’t remember ever really feeling like it was before, but sitting in the truck, looking out at all this, she felt it. Not like something new, but even better and more rare for someone like her, it felt familiar.
“Parking lot doesn’t really do this justice. Will it be okay to...drive on it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. We cycle the cows through the fields anyway and they’re about done here for now.”
