*“We did it!” Petal Telford, one of Ashni’s youngest but most earnest art students this week, stepped back from the now finished and drying mural. She held her hand up high, shot a selfie with just her eyes, forehead and sleek dark hair poking up in the bottom of the frame. The mural on one wall of the teen room scrolled out in vibrant detail behind her.
“Everyone get in. Sit on the floor.” Ashni waved the twelve kids over and climbed up on the top of a stepstool. “I want everyone in the picture. This one is for the Harry’s House website and my social media.”
The kids clumped together, trying various cool poses. Ashni laughed. She snapped some with her phone but others with a digital camera Beck had bought her last year for Christmas.
“Aren’t you going to get a picture of the entire mural?” Petal asked, looking worried.
“Yes, I am.” She changed to a wide-angle lens and climbed back up on the stepstool. “You guys slayed it.” She paused after taking a couple of shots. “Really spectacular. And that was just in one week. One week,” she marveled, shooting a few more frames. “Imagine what you could do if you keep drawing, keep honing your skills.”
“Are you going to teach another workshop next year when you come back?” Petal asked.
“Yes. Do. Please.” A chorus of voices warmed her heart.
“Actually,” she began…and paused. She hadn’t told anyone except Sky and Walker Wilder that she was staying on in Marietta—not even her family. She’d worked several hours each day remotely for the rodeo, wrapping up a few projects and handing off others to different staff, and on Monday, she was starting her new job at the public health office that was housed, appropriately, in a small building in the hospital complex.
“Hey, it’s your boyfriend,” a couple of the girls hollered out. “The cowboy.”
A few of the boys whistled under their breath and grinned at her.
Beck leaned against the doorjamb, looking good enough to eat and as if he didn’t have a care in the world, whereas her heart seemed engaged in a jumping jack marathon.
“Did you come to see the mural?” Petal asked.
“I did,” he said. “I confess I was hoping you’d have an art opening so more of the town could come see it.”
“We are,” Petal said. “But that’s tomorrow morning before the rodeo parade. We’re going to meet here with our parents for hot chocolate and muffins because the mural’s not dry yet and Ms. Singh still has to paint the frame around the mural, and then tomorrow when we come, we get to sign our painting.”
“And someone from the Courier is going to come,” Lily, Petal’s friend, said.
“And also Dylan from the radio station is going to interview us all about the mural and theme,” Petal said.
“That’s impressive,” Beck said. “What’s the theme?”
Petal opened her mouth, but Lily slapped her hand over it. “Can you guess?” she dared him.
Beck’s eyes widened and he blew out a breath. He sauntered into the classroom to look at the mural more closely. “I can tell right off we got a lot of talented artists in this town,” he said. “And a very talented teacher.”
He looked at Ash, and she felt as if he was seeing all the way to her soul. His eyes were so warm and his gaze admiring. But he had dark circles under his eyes. Not sleeping. Hurting.
Like me.
Sky’s parting words echoed. She’d been afraid to hear Beck out.
Afraid I’ll change my mind.
She was doing the right thing though, wasn’t she? He could get around her that easily. She loved him that much. So she tried to have everything in place so she couldn’t change her mind. But what must that look and feel like to Beck? She’d been so devastated when she’d heard him openly asking Bodhi about what it was like to be with other women. She’d felt betrayed. And rejected, which was what she’d been doing all week to Beck.
Had she been punishing him?
That question didn’t sit well at all. But now was not the time to take it out and examine it with a young audience and Beck looking at her with his heart in his eyes.
“You’re supposed to be looking at the mural,” Ashni reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Beck said, still infuriatingly not looking at the mural but at her. “I got a little distracted by another work of art.”
The kids responded to that with various noises that had Ashni blushing and Beck’s eyes sparkled.
He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels as he examined each panel of the mural. There was a scene of a farm stand, two kids playing baseball, a mom and two kids baking, a cowboy on a bucking bronc, hat clutched in his hold hand. He took his time, asked the kids who drew which picture and asked them questions—not just about their picture, but about art and what else they liked to do.
Beck was such a natural with everyone, not just kids, although on the tour he always spent the most time with the kids—not as much schmoozing with the corporate sponsors like his cousin Bodhi and a lot of the other cowboys did.
“Seems to me, everything revolves around an aspect of life in Marietta,” he said. “I see a lot of the town and the people. Community.”
“You got it in one guess.” Petal grinned.
“Hey, Miss Ashni, we still going for ice cream?” several of the boys asked.
“Yes. A promise is a promise, and your parents are meeting us at the Scoop to pick you up, but first final cleanup. Just leave the drop cloth.”
The kids scrambled, used to the drill. And Beck pitched in. Of course he did. That was one of the things she had always loved about him—how he’d open doors for people, hold them open, pick up something someone had dropped, help friends move, mentor younger cowboys just joining the tour, show up early and stay late at sponsor events, often helping the tour team set up and load up.
She could practically feel her heart goo up, and she wanted to slap herself for weakening so easily. But really, what other choice did she have? He was the father of her child. He wasn’t the type of man who would spread out his hands, palms up, and back away and say, “Not mine, no thanks.”
They would learn to co-parent. Millions of parents did. That was one of the many reasons she’d taken the job in Marietta. She loved the strong sense of community, of course, but mostly it was because Beck had roots here. He would be back often—perhaps permanently someday—and be able to participate in his child’s life.
And when he has another woman by his side?
The snarky question burned as did the jealousy that spread like acid through her veins. For the sake of their child, she vowed she’d be a decent ex.
“Hey now.” Beck was behind her as she stood at the sink giving the kids’ brushes a final rinse. Only she had the feeling she’d been here for a long time.
She could almost feel the brush of his body against hers—but that was wishful thinking as his hands lightly covered hers while she clutched the brushes under the cold water. Always cold, she’d told the kids, to protect the glue anchoring the bristles.
“I think the bristles are clean.” His warm breath teased her cheek.
“Just making sure,” she muttered. “Can’t be too careful.”
She’d always loved Beck’s hands—so strong and sure. Callused from so much work, but his fingers were long and blunt at the ends, and he kept his nails neatly trimmed, all the half-moons showing. And his skin was a lighter, golden brown compared to her deeper hue.
His lips briefly touch the curl of her ear. “Yes, baby, you can.” His hands closed more fully over hers, and he gave her a light, reassuring squeeze.
She closed her eyes and willed her body to stop trembling.
Beck reached around and turned off the water and spread the brushes out on the soft cloth she’d laid out so that they would dry.
She felt a little bit like she was coming out of a spell when she turned around and saw him watching her so intently. His eyes looked darker, his cheeks hollower, and the Copper-Mountain-high planes of his cheeks looked even starker than usual.
But his scrutiny warmed as she stared at him helplessly.
“It’s going to be okay, Ash,” he whispered. “Better than okay.”
She could barely breathe, much less swallow all of the tension clawing at her suddenly. She didn’t see how he could say that. It was wishful thinking, and she’d been doing too much wishing and dreaming for the both of them. She had to be strong.
Gulping in a shaky breath, she quickly—and cowardly—walked toward the students grouped eagerly around the door.
“Ice cream!” She pasted on a happy, look-how-unaffected-I-am smile and rushed out of Harry’s House. Hopefully, she could calm herself enough to act normal by the time they arrived at the ice cream parlor.
No such luck. Just as she was registering that the warm, late-September afternoon had turned breezy with a definite chill now that the sun was beginning to set, Beck draped her denim jacket over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she murmured, keeping her attention on the group of pre and young teens walking with them.
She would not look into his beautiful eyes. She would not let her gaze linger on his lips that knew how to kiss her senseless and drive her over the edge again and again. She could resist Beck. She just needed to practice. But darn the man, he made it near impossible when she could smell his cedar, citrus and spice scent. He walked so close to her, reminding her how it felt to belong.
Ignore him.
Hard to do when they arrived at the ice cream store. Beck insisted on treating, and when she demurred, he shot her a wicked smile and ordered her favorite, pistachio, and his, peanut butter and chocolate, in one cone.
“Milk,” he whispered in her ear. “It does a body or two bodies good.”
His breath was warm, his lips cold from the lick he’d stolen, and he held out the cone for her to take a swipe.
She was supposed to say “no thank you,” but she was so undone by his nearness and his casual reference to the baby that she could only stare up at him.
“You love ice cream.” His tender sky-blue gaze warmed with heat, and as she continued to stare at him, transfixed like an idiot, his gaze darkened.
“Take a picture and put it on your screen saver,” Declan, probably one of the best cartoonists in the entire class, urged. “You two are blocking the line.”
Ashni took a quick step back, but Beck followed and casually looped his arm around her waist. He held the cone closer to her lips, and Ashni gave up. She told herself it was to avoid creating any more attention—especially as several parents were starting to arrive—but really it was because she felt herself starting to crack. It felt so good to be held. She’d been making so many changes so quickly and then learning about the baby had been disorienting. Beck seemed so steady. Her rock.
These four days without Beck had been wonderful in some ways and achingly lonely in others. She’d had so many new experiences, and yet he hadn’t been there to share any of them with her.
Because you shut him out.
She felt guilty and confused—as if she were keeping secrets from him, the one person she’d never lied to or had held back any part of herself.
Until recently.
Trust her conscience—nudged by Sky—to not just niggle but to shout. Ashni angled her head and placed her hand lightly over his to bring the cone closer so she could have a taste of pistachio.
She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. She loved pistachio ice cream. LOVED it. And she often denied herself because she tried her best to avoid sugar in her diet for health reasons.
“I like the way we usually eat it,” Beck said softly.
In bed.
Of course he’d remind her of that now, here, in public with her students laughing and talking and greeting their parents and enthusing about the day. Ashni nearly choked on her second lick of ice cream.
“I’ve missed you,” Beck said, pain in his eyes, but then he smiled at the gathering groups of parents and students. “Showtime,” he said, echoing what she often said before one of his rodeo events or sponsor-driven appearances started.
Ashni greeted the parents, reminded them of the official unveiling tomorrow morning before the start of the parade. She was surprised at how quickly everyone left, leaving her alone with Beck.
He had stood a little distance off while she’d said goodbye to everyone, but now he was close—clearly trying to assess her mood, much like she’d seen him do with horses or bulls over the years. The thought made her smile. Maybe people weren’t so far up the evolutionary ladder as they thought.
“I’ve missed your smile,” he said. “I’ve missed you. I miss us.”
Ashni wasn’t sure what to say. How to look him in the eye and tell him about all the changes she’d set in motion, but she needed to do that—be fair. Be clear. She didn’t feel ready. It would feel too much like goodbye.
But that’s what you wanted.
Always the voice questioning her every move. She did want to stand on her own. But maybe it was more to prove that she could rather than wanting to be without Beck.
They shared a child.
The knowledge thrilled and terrified.
“Let’s take a walk.” She could barely force the words through her suddenly dry throat and mouth.
She could feel herself tremble as she laced her fingers with his.
This was the next step. Where would it lead?
*
Holding hands was a simple thing, and yet Beck felt such pleasure as they walked across Court Street toward the courthouse. Crews strung lights through the trees in the park and set up the temporary concert stage and dance floor for the Saturday night steak dinner—a fundraiser for the Montana Cattlemen’s Association that was always followed by a concert with several live bands and a dance.
He didn’t want to break the fragile peace between then, but he burned to ask Ash what her plans were now that the class was over—if she’d watch him compete or be his guest at the steak dinner and dance with him under the stars. He’d never had to ask before. She’d always attended social events with him. Bodhi and Bowen had always had to find dates.
My turn to do the wooing.
He watched Ash carefully lick, avoiding the peanut butter and chocolate to get to the pistachio ice cream—the delicate flicks of her tongue fascinated him.
She hummed a little as she licked.
“Ice cream seems to stay down.”
“Have you been nauseous?” he asked, worried. Ash was already so petite and athletically slim. She couldn’t afford to lose much weight in her first trimester, which he’d read sometimes happened in one of the pregnancy books he’d downloaded last night when once again he hadn’t been able to sleep. If he and Ash didn’t get straight, he’d probably coma out by the first rodeo event.
“Pretty much,” she said. “But not unbearable.”
“That’s good,” he said, mentally reminding himself to research healthy foods that would be easy for her to keep down. “A walk in the park?” he asked lightly, bracing himself for her to brush him off like she’d done all week.
“I would have thought you’d want to go by the fairgrounds.”
Normally he would. To check on his horses and to get a feel for the space. Visualize his rides, his events. But not tonight.
“Let’s do something different. What do you want to do?”
“Whatever you want.”
“No.” He turned and faced her. “That’s just it. You often agree or defer, and that ultimately made you unhappy, and I didn’t realize because you didn’t tell me. So, you need to tell me what you’re feeling. And what you want and what you need.”
Her expression clouded.
This was so hard when everything with Ash had been so easy. Now he understood what the expression “walking through a minefield” meant.
“Let’s walk in the park,” she said softly, “then maybe by the river.”
“Sounds good.”
He thought of things to say but rejected them. Too fraught or too accusatory. He felt like he’d been running on adrenaline all week and was about to crash. He wanted to avoid any of the places Bodhi might go tonight. If Bodhi saw them together, he’d probably joke with Ash about the dumb Rodeo Bride Game and how he’d be disqualified for roping Ash into it. He didn’t need any more outside interference with everything so tenuous with Ash. He was leaving his cousins to it. Building his future with Ash was too precious and felt precarious.
Yesterday he’d caught Bodhi and Nico kissing on some hay bales they were supposed to be setting up for seats for the guests during the Ballantyne Bash. She’d had Bodhi’s shirt untucked and her hands had been walking all over him—nothing really new there, Bodhi had hardly lived a monk’s life and excelled in PDA, except this time he’d stepped in front to hide Nico’s state of undress, which Beck already had been trying to mentally unsee. Then he’d ordered him in a harsh voice to get lost. Bodhi had never minded getting caught. Ever.
Beck breathed in the night. He’d faced bucking bulls, bucking broncs with and without saddles. He could wrestle a steer to the ground faster than most cowboys. He was known to excel during clutch moments, and he had no intention of screwing up the most important moment in his life.
At least Ashni still held his hand, not actively, but she wasn’t pulling away, and he’d store that in his win column for now.
“Do you think you’d like to teach more art classes to kids?”
He was already picturing her having some hands-on art activities for kids at the rodeo meet and greets as the rodeo season wound down. Lots of sponsors and VIPs brought their families. Or when they settled in Marietta—if they settled in Marietta—she could teach at Harry’s House.
“Yes. I would like that. It felt good to be creative, to be part of something. I had dinner at Sky’s one night, and she showed me her studio and we talked about art so late that I ended up spending the night. It was like college again—having a friend and making plans.”
Her voice rang with enthusiasm. Alarm skittered through him, but he forced it away. This was important. He’d asked her to tell him what she needed. It was his job to listen. Not react. But he felt like she was still flowing further downstream away from him.
They walked through the park, stood by the river and listened to the water burble. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest. It felt so good to hold her. She sighed, and he closed his eyes, just letting the feel of her, the warmth of her settle into his skin.
He finally broke the silence. “Ash, I want to talk about the baby.”
I want to talk about us.
She made a little sound, and for the first time in what felt like forever, her beautiful, liquid-black eyes met his searching gaze.
“I got in to see a doctor today.” She stunned him. “I’m nine weeks pregnant. Everything looks good. I heard the heartbeat.” Her palm drifted over her still-flat stomach. “I’m an us,” she whispered.
Beck felt like she’d stabbed him.
His first impulse was to lay claim, and he barely bit back the words. His emotions rioted inside of him like a bucking bronc out of the chute, only he didn’t have his center of gravity, and he was going to be thrown.
“Beck?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak. She was cutting him out of her life and their child’s life. And she expected him to just suck it up.
“Beck?” She turned around in his arms, which had loosened.
“You’re happy about the baby,” he stated.
This time it was he who avoided eye contract. Instead he stared at the reeds that marked the river’s path farther downstream—lit by the glow of the lights in the park and the rising moon—trying to calm down. Not react.
She didn’t want him.
She didn’t trust him.
She didn’t respect him.
“Yes,” she said softly, wonderingly. “I am. I was shocked. I always wanted to be a mom. I know we weren’t planning on a baby but…”
“So now we are a we? Am I in or out in your new plan? Would you just prefer I get back on the road and out of your life forever?”
“I…Beck—” She broke off. “You’re angry.”
“Hell yeah. Angry doesn’t begin to cover it. But since I’m trying to not let this be about me, and you clearly don’t want anything to be about me anymore, please enlighten me about what I did that was so terrible that you would not want me to be a part of our child’s life?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
He did his best to ignore them. She kept shoving him away. The hurt and frustration from the past week ripped out of him, and he didn’t want to hold back anymore.
“Yes, I said something stupid to my cousin one time a month or two ago. I didn’t act on the question. I’d never act on it because I love you, and I don’t want another woman ever. And yet for you, voicing one question is such a crime that I must be cut out of my child’s life.”
“I…well, not cut out entirely.” For the first time Beck could remember, Ashni struggled for words.
Fine. Because he had plenty.
“That’s generous. What about your role in the F-up?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. What you should have done, if you were pissed about something I said, was get in my face and demand an explanation, not run away and nurse a wound that infects and festers without ever letting me know what’s wrong. I know I hurt you, Ash, and I am sorry, but you’ve got to give me something to work with. You have to tell when you’re pissed. Or when you’re hurt. You have to tell me when you’re bored or unhappy. You have to tell me what you want. You have to share your dreams with me. That’s what couples do. Communicate.”
Her tears flowed freely now and he brushed at them carefully with his thumbs.
“I can’t be your man if you don’t tell me what you want or feel.”
She burrowed into him, and he held her. His heart slammed as hard as hers, and his breath came in tight gasps, but for the moment, he finally felt like he was on solid ground.
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about re-upping on the tour.” He kissed the top of her head and then down her silky hair. Her arms were around him now, squeezing with strength that always surprised him since she was petite. “I’d been toying with the idea of when to quit the tour, checking in with my investment broker, trying to figure out how much was enough money.”
She rocked back and looked up at him. “I didn’t know that.”
“We always talked about settling in Marietta.” He watched her carefully, relieved when she nodded. “So I’ve been exploring other career options—stock contracting. Breeding bulls or bucking broncs. The cattle ranch can’t support all of us once we have families. We’ve always known we’d have to branch the business out.”
Ash focused on him intently—her luminous gaze like a Montana starry sky.
“But something happened to Bodhi. He changed after his birthday, and I’d been worried about him since the end of last season. He’s been off. Reckless. Mean. In my face. He’s taking chances, picking the rankest bulls and the rankest broncs. It’s like he’s trying to get hurt. And then he’s been almost compulsive, picking up women. I just feel like he’s this close to being out of control.”
“Oh, Beck,” she said. “You didn’t tell me.”
“He was cutting himself off, and I didn’t want him to be alone. And I didn’t want the burden to fall on Bowen. And Bowen’s more shut down. He hardly talks to me anymore. Doesn’t want to hang out.”
“I didn’t see it.” Ash sounded remorseful.
“Not your fault, baby. You and Bodhi are such friends. You share the love of science and are always discussing research articles and discoveries. He’s calmer with you. That night I thought if I talked to him, made him see how empty his life was, how he was burning himself out, running too hot, too fast, too…I thought I could make him see that he was limiting himself to just physical relationships and that he should slow down. Find someone. He deserves to be loved like I was loved.”
Her breaths came in little puffs, then she reached up and cupped his face. He turned his cheek into her palm.
“I thought you were bored with me,” she admitted in a pained whisper.
“What?” The idea was so out there he couldn’t even take it seriously. “No. Never. Of course not. I saw you that day through the window in the musical theater room in high school and heard you sing, and it was like being jolted to life. I was done. I’d found my person. I’ve never once not felt like you are my one.”
“Beck,” she whispered, fingers trembling. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm, savoring the warmth and texture of her skin. Then she did the most incredible thing. She took his hand and brought it down to cover her abdomen. And for Beck, who’d had a difficult year and an awful week, and who knew he and Ash still had so much to hash out, he suddenly felt the connection. Everything felt right and once again, he was on solid ground.