*There was an actual line at the Java Café. Each time Beck came back to Marietta, the Java Café seemed busier. Something was new or there was a menu change. Marietta might be small, but it wasn’t standing still. The Java was far more than a coffee shop—it served a small, but hearty and delicious breakfast selection and offered a lunch menu for the steady grab-and-go customers who worked the ranches, construction sites, first responders, and local hospital and medical offices.
Sally Driscoll, a barista for as long as he could remember, pulled shots like a pro and kept up a steady stream of conversation while not missing a beat taking customers’ orders.
“Hey, Beck, good to see you.” Boone Telford, a local whom he’d competed against in the summer rodeos stepped in line behind him. “I saw that you were competing again this year at Copper Mountain—slumming it.” Boone laughed. He too had followed the pro rodeo tour for quite a few years but always came home to compete at the Copper Mountain Rodeo.
“Hardly.” Beck was happy to see Boone. He was easygoing and had always been quick to help others and generous with his time and volunteering. “Copper Mountain Rodeo feels like home. You riding?”
“Nah, I had my time.” He waved his left hand, which had a thick, gold wedding band. “Officially retired. Found a girl at the beach in Cali last spring, brought her home in the summer and got married all in the same year. Piper’s the best thing that ever happened to me, but we’re due to have something even better in a couple of months. Can’t wait. Building a house on the ranch. Working with my dad but got a few side hustles going.”
Boone had always been quick with a smile and a deluge of information.
“Wow. Married.”
In a year.
Expecting.
Retired.
Boone was his age.
“That’s a lot to take in.” Beck’s mouth felt dry. “Fast.”
“Why wait?” His smile split his face. “When you know, you know.” His face shadowed. “Oh. Ummmmm. I didn’t mean…you still with Ashni, right?”
“Yeah.” Beck ignored the hard kick in his gut. They weren’t broken up. This was just temporary. Very temporary.
“Great.” Boone’s shoulders relaxed, and he was all smiles again. “Can’t imagine you guys apart. She’s been in your cheering section since high school.”
She had been. Always cheering him on, which hit him wrong today.
“Bringing her a chai and some pastries as a Monday morning treat.” Beck felt the unusual need to defend himself. “She’s teaching an after-school art class at Harry’s House this week.”
Boone nodded. “Oh, yeah? Must be the one my cousin’s taking—a guest cartoonist. Petal’s been talking about it all month. The kids got sketchbooks ahead of the class and were told to take pictures of at least ten people doing something and to tell a story about it with dialogue or a thought bubble. Petal’s been on a mission. Her book’s nearly full. She’s excited.”
Pride washed through Beck. And then shame. Ashni had so much to offer. So many talents, but she’d been following him in his career now full-time far longer than the one or two years they’d initially discussed.
Beck tried to shrug off this new, uncomfortable feeling. He and Ash would work this out. She was just stirred up from Reeva’s wedding. And Jerry’s dumb stunt. And his dumber response.
“Hey, you should bring Ashni one night to dinner. You could meet Piper. She’s a masseuse in town. She had an early client this morning so I’m bringing something for her break then heading back to work on the house. If you and Ashni come by for dinner, I can show you around. I’m setting up a rodeo school for kids—an after-school program in conjunction with Harry’s House. Got some retired cowboys helping out. Kane Wilder’s helping with financing. We’re working with little kids and then we’ll have more of a development program out on the ranch for older kids, who are more serious. Something to think about when your time comes. Your turn to order.”
Feeling a little like he’d been knocked off a bucking bronc and kicked for his trouble, Beck ordered the chai extra hot, hoping to keep it as warm as possible, and his drip coffee, and then exchanged cell numbers with a still-smiling Boone, who was greeting nearly everyone in the place.
An unexpected rush of longing hit him.
Beck knew many people in town, but not like Boone, who’d grown up ranch. He hadn’t had to split his time between his beloved ranch and city life with such different expectations.
City boys. Summer cowboys. Country hicks.
Shaking off the half-remembered taunts from both sides, Beck walked the few blocks to Bramble Lane, hoping to clear his head. Boone—his happiness, his certainty, his plans—still echoed in his brain.
He mounted the outside stairs of the carriage house over a four-car garage and knocked on the door.
“It’s open.” Ash’s voice floated through an open window.
It felt strange to feel nervous. Ash was his life, part of him. And yet last night she’d closed the door on him. Told him they were through.
And today he was going to change her mind.
The studio apartment appeared to be spacious—full of light—wide windows, a few skylights in the peaked ceiling that was composed of whitewashed tongue-in-groove wide planks—similar to the floor. A full kitchen with a white quartz island with four barstools. And a comfortable seating area.
Not sure where to put the coffee down, in the kitchen or in the sitting area with the white plush furniture and colorful pillows and throws, he prowled. And then stopped, seeing the large, plush, artistic horse sitting upright in a chair—the goofy expression on its face, the rakish beret and paintbrush in its mouth, and the palette on an extended hoof.
“Did you forget something?” Ash came out of the bathroom, dark hair gleaming. “Oh.” She paused and pressed her lips together. A flush stole across her cheeks, and she didn’t meet his searching gaze. He could see her pulse hammer in her delicate neck. “Beck.”
“Where’d you get this?” he asked, feeling stupid.
She was still buttoning up her denim shirt dress, and he couldn’t help that his gaze narrowed on her slim fingers on the buttons, closing off the tantalizing view of her satiny skin.
“Bodhi.”
“Bodhi?”
Ash jolted and frowned. “Why are you yelling?”
What was Bodhi doing at Ash’s apartment? He’d said nothing about winning the horse. Nothing about stopping off this morning. And how had Bodhi known where Ash was? A suspicion gnawed at his brain and twisted his gut, but it was too…too impossible.
“What is wrong with you?”
He stared at her in disbelief. How could she ask that when she’d dumped him last night with no warning?
“He just dropped it off a few minutes ago for you,” Ashni said. “What’s the big deal?”
He moved his mouth, brain trying to keep up, but nothing, not a word emerged.
“He said you won it for me yesterday.” She crossed her arms. “But clearly he was once again helping you out.” Her beautiful mouth pursed, and her eyes sparked.
“I did.” He sat down, feeling like his legs couldn’t quite hold him up. What had he been thinking—that somehow Bodhi was making a move on Ash? It was ludicrous. Bodhi was a player, but he was loyal. “Before the finals I saw it and thought of you.” He paused and looked at her, willing her to come closer. Sit down with him. “I won it with help from Bodhi and Bowen,” he admitted in full confession mode.
“But when we were walking back to get ready for the finals, we saw a little girl with her mom. Without a dad. She had a…a…port.” He touched near his collarbone. “And she was holding the coloring book you made. She recognized me on the cover.”
Ash closed her eyes, looking pained.
“I gave the horse to her and tickets in the VIP sections since you weren’t coming in until later.”
Only she’d never come.
“I’m glad,” Ash said.
“I missed you, Ash. I wanted to have a present for when I picked you up so I went back after my events, but the second grand prize had already been won—by Bodhi or both of them.”
It would be like his cousins to have his back but to not make a big deal about it, not even telling him. “I wanted it for you.” He took a sip of his coffee. God, his hand shook. “I suppose you think that’s stupid.”
“No. Sweet.”
His heart soared, but she didn’t move from her position against the doorjamb of what he assumed led to the bathroom. Ash always told him he was sweet, and Bodhi never missed an opportunity to mock him. But sweet didn’t seem enough today. Ash looked unimpressed and unrelenting.
“Will you sit with me a spell? I brought you a chai and…”
“Beck.” She sighed. “We broke up. I don’t want to hurt you. Or drag out this hard part. But you need to stop coming around.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I do.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d come here to fight for her. To charm her. To do something to make this right, to make this awful feeling go away, but he’d really been hoping that she would have changed her mind, realized her mistake, welcomed him back into her arms, and being a stupid dumbass, he’d hoped to be back in her bed.
“This isn’t easy for me either.” She made an impatient sound as she swept her chai off the coffee table and resumed standing in the doorway.
“Then why do it?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“I need to do something different.”
“Then do it. Anything. Just do it with me. Let me be a part of your life.”
He sounded pathetic. He felt worse. And it wasn’t working. At. All. But Beck had never played any games with Ashni. He hadn’t had to win her. She’d just always been his. He hadn’t ever had to try. They just worked.
And now they didn’t.
She stared down at her chai. “I don’t want to continue as we were because then I won’t make any changes, and I need to. I’m not happy, and it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’ve drifted, and I need to stop. I need to make a life for myself that has challenge and meaning. I need to try something new, and I can’t do that while still trotting after you city to city doing the same job. And you need to pursue your dreams without guilt or worrying about my happiness.”
“Your happiness is my happiness,” he mumbled more miserable than he’d been last night. How was that even possible?
She took a quick gulp of the chai and then made a face.
“What is this?”
“Chai. The spicy kind with two percent milk. Just like you like.” He jumped up. It had better be chai.
“Tastes weird.” She made a face, sticking out her tongue, just like the yuck emoji.
Beck checked the cup. It was marked properly. He tasted it.
“Yeah. Chai. Tastes like it always does.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She took the cup back and walked over to the sink. “It tastes off, but thank you for thinking of me, for bringing me a chai.”
He felt so awkward, like nothing in his body was working properly. Everything hurt.
Even looking at her. She was so beautiful but far away. Nervously, he looked around the room, knowing he should leave, but afraid that if he did, he’d never see her again. His eyes lit on her guitar. The one he’d made for her in wood shop and with the help of a guitar maker in Denver. It was out of the case, so she’d been playing it last night or this morning.
That was something. She wasn’t throwing everything of them away.
“I love you,” he said, knowing he was going to walk out the door. “I always have. I know I always will. We’ve been through a lot together. Grown up together.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and even though he hated to make her cry, it was at least a sign that she felt something, and he had to grab on to that. Make a plan. Run with it. But he needed to give her some time alone, just not as much as she thought she wanted. Definitely not forever.
“I’m not ready to give up on us, Ash, but I do want you to be happy.”
With me.
“You’re not responsible for my happiness, Beck.”
Everything inside of him shouted to get out of here, regroup. But he wasn’t used to quitting. He thought of argument after argument, but discarded them all, then something Bodhi had said to him that stupid, fateful night that had so riled Ash rose up in his mind.
“Walk away before you’re ready. Makes ’em hungry for more.”
Is that what Ash was doing? A game to get him to propose? Quit the tour?
It was anathema to their entire relationship. She had never been manipulative. The games he, Bodhi and Bowen engaged in made her roll her eyes or laugh. But…wasn’t that what he was doing to her?
Guilt edged into his pain. Game playing between lovers wasn’t right, was it? But if she were playing a game with him, that meant she hadn’t given up on them.
Hope soared.
So what exactly was his next play?
For the first time since yesterday, he felt a spark of hope and…intrigue.
He walked over to her, keeping his limbs loose. She’d always loved the way he walked. He’d never really understood that. He just walked, but sometimes after a competition when he’d walk toward her, she’d run toward him, jump into his arms and kiss him like she’d never let him go. He’d feel the heat of her desire roll off of her.
This time she pressed back against the kitchen sink, her eyes flared, and he saw the pulse in her neck kick up.
He stopped close enough to touch her, but he didn’t.
“Your happiness is my happiness.” He repeated the phrase, meaning it. “Take the time you need, Ash.” He waited a beat. To kiss or not? A brush of his lips or…let her think he’d kiss her?
“Beck,” she whispered. “You can’t.”
He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear so that his breath ruffled her hair.
“I can. I want to, but I won’t.”
And then he did the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He walked away.
*
Beck walked back to his truck, his mind raced unable to focus on anything. Once, a few years ago, a bucking bronc had thrown and kicked him, slamming him into the arena’s metal fencing resulting in a concussion, despite his helmet. The bronc had hopped up, pissed, and strutted away, lunging at the rodeo clowns a few times before heading back to the chute as if it had been his plan the entire time. First and only time he’d been carried out of an arena on a stretcher. He’d come to a groggy sort of awareness in an ambulance with a tearful Ashni holding his hand and pressing ice to the massive lump that had been developing slightly above his temple.
He felt the same now.
Only worse.
And he needed to be on top of his game. Not at the bottom.
Ashni wanted space. He needed to give her some but not too much.
Blowing out a breath, he unlocked his truck with the remote and climbed in. Slammed the door as if that would hold in the emotions roiling around inside of him.
Space was the last thing he wanted to give her. The urge to return to her apartment and lock the door until they hashed things out spooked him. He wasn’t like that at all. Bossy. Controlling. They had a partnership.
Or so he’d thought.
While he had thought he and Ash were happy, she’d been slowly growing apart from him. It was like that Taylor Swift song Ashni had loved so much she’d played it over and over on her guitar the past few months while they’d been driving.
What was it called? “Exile.” Great. The title might as well have been a billboard that she’d slammed over his head.
Beck sat in his truck, not sure he could drive. His breath shuddered in and out. He hated this—feeling helpless, out of control. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his racing heart and mind.
Ashni had made it sound like she’d been unhappy for some time and he’d been some unfeeling, selfish jerk. And then to imply that her happiness was hers alone to find—like he had no part. He was calling BS on that. He wanted her happy. He wanted her fulfilled. She could have that and more with him. But she had to let him in on what she needed and what was missing. He wasn’t some sideshow psychic with a tarot deck and crystal ball.
He started up his truck and drove. He watched while several families crossed the street near the Java Café. An idea occurred to him. Ashni’s art class started this afternoon. Kids liked food. They’d be hungry after school. He could at least do that. Order some food for later in the day and deliver it himself—visit the classroom, meet the kids, see Ashni in the new life she wanted to create.
Be supportive but casual. He was good with kids. He’d interact with the kids for a couple of minutes and then leave before Ashni could wonder at his motives.
He shifted into drive, squinting through the windshield. Was the sun always so bright? The sky so blue? He felt like he’d just been thrust into a world where everything was too bright. Too vivid. The air shimmered with heat. It was like he was seeing everything for the first time—different, but the same, only more glaring.
It took him a moment to realize he’d been so thrown by his conversation with Ash that he’d left his hat behind. Better than leaving without his boots or pants. That had happened to Bodhi once. Best call for help Beck had ever received. They’d been in college and, for once, Bodhi’s Prince Charming crown had been just a bit tarnished.
As if thinking of his cousin conjured him up, he saw Bodhi enter the Java Café and take a seat in the window with the same woman he’d been talking to and dancing with at Grey’s last night. Nico somebody. They spoke animatedly. Bodhi spotted him through the window, smirked, and gave him a thumbs-up. Then Beck received a text.
“Game on?”
“Definitely.”
He just needed a strategy. And the four people he relied on most as his north stars were all on opposing sides.
The road was now clear so Beck continued slowly down Main Street. He’d call in the order to the café—seeing Bodhi in full suitor mode didn’t sit well. Work would clear his head so he could formulate a plan of attack.
“Supposed to be love, not war,” he murmured.
As he drove by the Graff Hotel, he saw Bowen exiting down the wide curved staircase of the entrance, walking hand in hand with a woman with short platinum hair.
She looked a bit familiar.
But it was the handholding that shocked him. His cousin had pulled into town near sundown last night, and just past sunup, he’d raced all of them into town and now he was coming out of a hotel with a woman and heading toward the Main Street Diner. It wasn’t Shauna from last night. She was likely nursing a hangover from deeper than one of the seven pits of hell.
“Hey,” Beck slowed down and shouted out the window. Had even Bowen lost his mind?
Bowen looked both ways and jogged to the truck, still holding the woman’s hand. She was much smaller than Bowen and had huge, amber colored eyes that reminded him of whiskey. Her smile was impish.
“What are you doing?” Beck asked, stupidly—as if he didn’t know, but seeing Bowen faux wooing turned his stomach. Usually their challenges pitted their strengths, skills and wits against each other—no one else was involved so no one could get hurt.
“Remember Langston? Best barrel racer on the Montana teen circuit back in the day?”
“Hey, Beck. Good to see you. Bowen’s doing a huge favor for me this week.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed Bowen’s jaw. “For practice.”
Her smile looked like the sun. Bowen stared into her heart-shaped face like he was under a spell. What was going on? Bowen needed a favor. What did Lang need?
“Earth to Bowen,” Beck muttered.
“Looks like we’re running the board.” Bowen grinned at him and knocked twice on the truck. “See you back at the ranch.”
Sliding his arm around her slim waist, Bowen walked them back to the sidewalk and toward the diner. It wasn’t until Beck heard the light toot of a horn behind him that he realized he was just sitting there, idling in the middle of Main Street.
With Bodhi taking the same woman out twice in a row and Bowen publicly holding hands, the Rodeo Bride Game was most definitely on.
“Dummmm. Dum. Dum. Dummmm.” He hummed the wedding march or something like it under his breath.
It was a dumb game. Someone was going to get hurt. But Granddad’s future was on the line. Hell, all of their futures were on the line, and he was all in.
*
Ashni sat on the floor with the twelve students who’d signed up to take the mural class. She’d expected mostly girls, but perhaps the cartooning description had sounded more graphic like video games or anime, so an equal number of boys had signed up.
For the first half hour of class, they’d played an introduction game by doing a quick sketch illustrating a memory of something they had done or an accomplishment, and kids guessed the meaning. The ice breaker had been a hit. The students were engaged, and the energy and creative buzz was heady.
But she’d yet to approach the idea of building their individual story panels into a cohesive theme for the mural, which would be critical. That was her goal before they ended class today.
The only problem—Ashni was suddenly hungry. She’d been too keyed up to eat after her conversation with Beck this morning.
Stop thinking of him.
She refocused on the group and then encouraged them to brainstorm themes for their mural panels.
“Rodeo,” one pre-teen boy called out.
Beck flashed through her mind again—his smile, his swagger when he’d walk toward her, arm out, palm up, fingers beckoning, the wicked heat in his eyes…
Stop!
She was stronger than this. Beck was a habit she could break. She typed rodeo onto her tablet, and it showed up on the large interactive whiteboard behind her.
“The history of Marietta,” another kid called out.
“That’s like school. Boring,” William, the kid with the rodeo suggestion, dismissed.
“Gunfights. Blood and guts, hookers at Grey’s,” a kid named Jacob countered, and she wondered if she should object to his language.
“That would be all right then, like a video game,” William admitted. They fist-bumped and made exploding noises.
“We want ideas. And discussion. Not judgment. Please don’t shut anything or anyone down. We want a large list.” Ashni ignored the blood and guts and hookers themes. “As an artist you need your mind to be open to bounce around a lot of ideas before settling on one you want to explore. Then the real play and fun begins.” She smiled at her students. “You need an open mind and to be kind or else the creativity—yours and others’—will get shut down.”
It would have been a great moment—maybe—except her stomach—iffy for the past few weeks—chose that moment to interject. Loudly.
“Oops!” She had to laugh at their surprised expressions. “Excuse me.”
She’d meant to buy snacks for her students. She’d discussed it with Sky over the lunch she had picked at but not eaten, but then she’d been too busy setting up the room, changing and rechanging her mind and making plans with Sky to come out and see her studio the next day.
“Tomorrow I’ll bring snacks,” she promised.
“How about some snacks today?” a way too familiar deep drawl of a voice interrupted.
Beck.
And her stupid heart hopped and jigged.
He entered the classroom, wearing a different Stetson because his was still on her couch, judging her until she had picked it up and put it in the coat closet on the top shelf. Beck’s black tee stretched tight over his sculpted torso, Wranglers faded and worn hugged his hips and thighs in a way she should not be noticing in a room full of children.
Please don’t let him turn around.
Beck’s prime ass had been her undoing countless times. Even after all these years together, his backside still struck her stupid. And when he was walking…Ashni felt a wave of heat wash over her. Humiliating, because she’d told him they were breaking up and she didn’t want to be sending mixed messages, but her body wasn’t mixed up at all. It wanted Beck. Badly.
If she could kick herself, she would. Stupid body.
The kids goggled at him, then peppered him with questions.
“Beck.” She had to take charge of the situation. She was the teacher. It would be easier if her heart would stop fluttering in her throat so she could breathe and speak properly.
“You shouldn’t…you…” She wasn’t quite sure what to say. What about break up did he not get? She’d been clear this morning. Adamant.
“Stalker” was not what she’d been intending to mutter under her breath while he grinned.
“C’mon now,” he said. “You know I can’t stay away.”
He could learn.
But she was standing too close and staring at him like he was some kind of superhero who’d just swooped in to save the day in a Hollywood blockbuster.
“Yeah, rodeo cowboys.” One of the older girls nudged one of her friends. “That should so be our theme.”
“Where should I put the food?” Beck asked, looking around the room.
Half the group jumped to their feet.
“Hey now, settle,” Beck said, and with no more than a nod of his head, the boys and several girls sank back down on the floor. “Your teacher will tell when it’s break time. I was trying to sneak in the back—” he smiled like a sunrise “—but picked the wrong door.”
Like Beck could sneak into any room in the world unnoticed.
Swimming against the tide.
No. She’d been letting herself get sucked into Beck’s orbit for far too long.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding so prim she wanted to kick her own darn behind. “Please set the food on that table over there. Do you need some…um…?” She broke off not wanting to walk into any flirty games with Beck.
Too late.
His eyes crinkled with warmth and gleamed.
“Help? Desperately,” he whispered the last word at her as he put down the massive plate of sandwiches. He also carried two bags—one from Monroe’s grocery store, which contained apples and oranges. The other bag was from the bakery.
“Beck.” She wanted to be stern, but the gesture was so sweet, so Beck, that for a moment she was afraid her willpower would sputter out.
“You’re welcome.” He leaned toward her. He was going to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered shut, but then she remembered.
Kids.
They’d broken up.
“Is that your boyfriend?” one girl asked.
“No.”
“Yes.”
They spoke at the same time.
“Oooooooh.” A multitude of voices shared their thoughts on the contradiction.
“I call yes,” one girl named Meghan said.
“Definitely,” another girl sighed.
“Hey, if we do a rodeo theme, we’d need a model,” Meghan sounded like she was thirteen going on thirty. “All sketch classes have models pose.”
Beck smiled. “Wouldn’t be my first time.” He grinned at the group, and Ashni wanted to kick him in his prime behind. Why were her thoughts so violent? Beck looking gorgeous and posing was not in her curriculum.
“Naked,” Meghan’s friend Crystal said matter-of-factly.
Beck’s smile faded. Ashni laughed.
“Time to go. We’re keeping this class G-rated.” She motioned Beck toward the door. “Thank you very much, Mr. Ballantyne, for the snacks.”
The confusion on Beck’s face along with the kids’ ping-ponging gazes was pretty funny. No one knew where to look—the longed-for food so temptingly displayed on the table, Beck, or her.
What story would this scene tell?
Of course, Ashni had no intention of asking the kids that question because she didn’t want to know. But their next exercise was to come up with abstract feelings—happiness, anger, excitement—and figure out how to represent them with images.
After their snack.
But she wouldn’t admit that to Beck because she didn’t want to give him an excuse to linger.
“Ma’am.” Beck winked and tipped his hat. “Muralists.” He tipped his hat to them. “Can I steal your teacher for a moment?”
Oh. No.
“Ooooooooooh,” the Greek chorus of doom sang out again.
Not wanting to make a fuss, Ashni smiled and walked Beck toward the door with a confidence she didn’t feel.
She pulled him out into the hall so she could still see her group in the small art room, but they couldn’t overhear the conversation.
“Beck, thank you for the snacks. It was very thoughtful,” she said quickly, “but I meant what I said this morning.”
“I know you did, Ash.”
“So, you need to stop coming by.”
Why was this getting harder, not easier? And why was he nodding?
“I will,” he said. “I just feel like I don’t really understand, and I want to. You really sprung this on me. I know you’ve likely been thinking about it for months.”
Guilt coursed through her. She hadn’t. Not like this. Breaking up. Had she? She’d been unhappy traveling. She’d felt at loose ends. Professionally unfulfilled. But Beck…Confusion clouded her judgment. She didn’t know how to explain it to him. Or she did, and he wasn’t listening.
“I just feel like I need a little…closure. And maybe if I could take you to dinner and we could talk, I could say what I need to say so that I too can move on.”
Move on? She blinked. He was moving on? One dinner and chat, and he’d be ready to move on—after half their lives together?
Isn’t that what you want?
“I want you to enjoy your week of teaching. I know you’re going to do great. You’re fantastic at everything you do, Ash, and I mean that.”
Her rush of happiness was visceral. “Thank you.” His opinion still meant so much to her.
“And I’ve got a lot of work to do at the ranch this week, and the moms are coming in and the rodeo will be starting, so I’ll be out of your hair, but I need to be able to concentrate so if we could talk tonight over dinner it might help me to get in a better headspace.”
He paused, and his voice lowered. “I’m worried about Granddad.”
“What? Why?” Alarm skittered through her. “He seemed fine when we made dinner yesterday.” But he’d acted strange when she’d mentioned she’d be staying in town because of the class. He’d seemed…she wasn’t really sure. Almost like he’d been expecting something.
He’d actually looked at her like Beck was now—like he was trying to see into her soul.
“I think he’s worried. Covering something up. I was going to talk to you about it, run a couple of ideas by you, but now…”
“You can tell me anything,” she said quickly, and then she nearly groaned.
He couldn’t. They were broken up. By her request. But she felt like Ben Ballantyne was her granddad too. And she had a room full of kids who were definitely getting restless.
“Fine. Dinner,” she said hastily, already regretting it.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, I’ll meet you,” she insisted. She needed control and a sense of separation.
Beck didn’t like that. He was too much of an old-school cowboy, and for a moment, she nearly smiled. Even when they’d been kids, he’d insisted on walking her home, carrying her backpack, even though she lived in the opposite direction.
“Rosita’s?” he asked.
She nodded and turned away before he could do something to further weaken her resolve. It was ridiculous how all he had to do was show up, and she felt gooey inside. She needed to remember him speculating about some other woman imitating a vacuum cleaner. Or squirming under Jerry’s questions.
Her phone buzzed with a message. Crawford County Health Department. Her heart nearly jumped in her chest. That was fast. Good news or bad? She had to resist the urge to check the voice message. She’d do it during the break. She looked behind her, one hand on the doorjamb to the art room, feeling like she was straddling two worlds.
Beck walked away. The kids in the classroom and the message regarding her impulsive job application waited on the other side.
Ashni walked back inside her classroom and kicked the door shut with her foot.