*Ashni had enough time to think in the airport. She bought a Starbucks chai and walked the terminal, earbuds in, listening to the soundtrack of Hamilton, which always motivated her. Maybe she was overreacting. She definitely felt overwrought. Why did she want to marry Beck anyway? That burned. She was young, educated, talented, earned good money, had options. She had a master’s in public health as well as a BS in epidemiology and a BA in studio arts. And yet, here she was, waiting, hoping.
Why should she be eager to marry at twenty-nine?
Her elaborate mehndi—the henna tattoo that covered her palms, the backs of her hands and scrolled up her arms—taunted her. She’d always imagined having a big Indian wedding—so many family and friends celebrating her. And they’d add in whatever traditions Beck wanted.
But it was a show—which was probably what appealed to her love of drama and the spectacularly vivid visuals. Beck was private, a bit shy. He’d hate that. He’d do it with a smile on his face, backed by his cousins—Bowen stoic and helpful; Bodhi flip but scrutinizing her with an intensity she’d never understood. And Indian weddings were lavishly expensive.
Beck saved as much money as he could to invest in the ranch. Another goal they’d never talked about. It was just a given. And she’d gone along with it because she loved Beck, and she’d come to love his cousins, granddad and Montana. She liked the smaller towns over cities.
She stopped walking, chai halfway to her lips.
What was her deal? Was she passive? No goals of her own?
Doubt washed over her. Shame.
Since earning her master’s, she’d just started following Beck’s lead. The tour had sounded fun for a year or two—seeing the country. She’d started working in marketing and had really enjoyed it at first. She’d done community outreach and had focused her efforts on children’s hospitals and organizations that supported families in communities where the tour went, and Ashni was proud of the network she’d established.
She wasn’t a buckle bunny looking for a free ride and some fun.
But this year it had all soured.
She’d always figured they would build their lives and she her career once he retired from the tour, but it had been five years now. Traveling was becoming a grind. She wanted a home. A garden. A full kitchen to cook meals. A baby. And when she’d asked about marriage right after Christmas, he’d changed the subject.
And then she’d heard him speculating with Bodhi about being with so many different women—did it feel different when he…? Ashni cut off that train of thought. It still hurt when she thought about it.
Was Beck bored?
He didn’t seem bored. He was just as affectionate, tender, always looking for fun things to do on the road. So what changed?
Me.
I’m bored.
Not with Beck. But with the lifestyle. And she was taking it out on him. She slowly sat down in an available blue chair nowhere near her gate. They wanted different things. He was young and healthy. He could compete for years still unless he got seriously injured. He was younger than his cousins who showed no sign of slowing down. Bowen was nearly three years older. Did she want to be doing this for three more years?
Hell no.
So that was her answer wasn’t it? She noted her hand holding the chai shook, and her detachment spooked her. Time to get a grip. She took a bracing swallow of the sweet, still-hot liquid and closed her eyes, focusing on the silky texture, the taste and heat as she swallowed. She needed to make the changes she wanted and find her own happiness. Stop relying on Beck.
She didn’t want to be one of those women who followed a man blindly, putting him first and never herself and taking out her bitterness on Beck because she’d been too weak to act on her own behalf.
“Okay, no more Miss Passive,” she coached. “Time to start building a life you want.”
Ashni finished her chai, and after a moment of hesitation, got up and bought another. She’d been feeling wonky lately. Not hungry. Nothing sounded appetizing, and yet the chai felt wonderful heating her tummy. Maybe now that the wedding was over and she’d had her bolstering heart-to-heart with herself, her appetite would return.
She took her second chai and walked to her gate, visualizing a game plan. This week would help because she’d be doing something new: teaching the art class. And she’d be in her favorite town in all of America, the town she always thought she and Beck would settle in and raise their children.
She’d have the week to get some things in motion, but she’d need some space from Beck to do so because it would be so easy to fall back into bed and their routine if she didn’t. Ashni did not want to have the same conversation with herself this time next year.
Finals were at the end of next month, and then Beck would have a break to make some choices of his own.
Pick us. Choose me.
Panic swirled through her, and she wished she could call Reeva to talk about everything, but Reeva would be heading off on her honeymoon soon. Ash didn’t want to bother her with her airport anguish.
Since changing her flight, Ashni had another half hour before boarding. She texted Sky Wilder to ask if her cousin-in-law’s Marietta studio apartment on Bramble Lane was still available for the week. Sky had offered it for free since the class didn’t pay, but Ashni had demurred knowing that Beck would want to stay at the ranch.
But now it’s about what I want.
She also texted that she would be flying into Bozeman, not traveling with Beck. Sky said the apartment was open and offered to pick her up so they could chat on the way into town. Ashni happily accepted. She didn’t need a car in Marietta. Everything was so walkable. Even as she wondered how Beck would take her change in plans, she crushed the thought. She had to think about herself and what she wanted now.
She booted up her computer and resolutely crafted a resignation letter to her boss. This was it. The beginning of a new life. She hit send.
There should have been a lighting change. Softer music in a different key, the sound slowly swelling. The chorus softly singing and then the strings working up to her solo, and she’d stand, spotlit and… Laughing at herself, she googled some job boards in public health first in Denver but then in Montana—she could hope that she and Beck could find their way, and she’d grown to love Marietta and the Three Tree Ranch as much as he and his cousins did. And his granddad felt like her granddad.
Her stomach dropped. By staying in town, she’d also miss time with Ben. She called him. Told him that she wouldn’t be staying at the ranch because of the class.
“What’s Beck done to be in the doghouse?” His deep voice rumbled.
“Nothing, it’s just more convenient,” she said hastily.
“Talked to him this morning, and he said you and he would be driving in this evening.”
Darn.
“Ummmmm…”
The laugh that rolled out warmed her heart. “Good for you. ’Bout time. Stay strong. No doubt Beck needs the kick in his ass.”
“It’s not a you-know-what kicking,” she reiterated. “I just…”
“It’s an ass-kicking. He needs it. Bodhi needs one too.” He paused. “Well, that would be something.”
Ashni scrunched her face, not understanding.
“You stay strong. Don’t give in when he comes round your door all full of apologies. Make him work for it.”
He was making her sound manipulative. Was she? “I really just—” She blew out a breath. “I really need to figure things out, and Beck gets around me so easily. I don’t think straight. So, some space.”
Ben laughed again. “It’s a Ballantyne trait. We make women lose their good sense. Don’t talk to him. Make him crazy. Spin it out ’til the end of the week.”
That made it sound like a game.
“Shouldn’t you be on his side if there were sides?” she demanded.
“I am,” he said. “But I’m on yours too. You do your part. Don’t cave. I’ll do mine.”
He hung up. Typical of Ben. He never said goodbye. He’d stand in the front, tall, fit, strong as Copper Mountain, give a quick wave or a grunt and walk to the barn, his back the only witness to his grandsons driving away.
Ashni clutched her phone. She needed to text Beck and tell him she wouldn’t be at the Boise airport. She didn’t want to tell him until his events were over. She checked the time. She’d text him after boarding. Something dinged on her search parameters, and she stared at the new posting. It was too surreal. Too perfect.
Feeling a spurt of reckless sprinkled with giddy, Ashni uploaded her résumé and wrote a short statement of intent. She nibbled on her lip as she read over her letter and then hit send.
“Grass growing under my feet no longer.”
And as she took her seat that she’d upgraded, she said yes to a glass of prosecco. Texted Beck her change of plans and promptly switched her phone to airplane mode.
“Cheers,” she said to the businesswoman next to her.
*
Beck drove his rig—his cousins not far behind—past the oh-so-familiar large, white, two-story farmhouse and continued on to the looming red barn, framed by sturdy oaks, a few hundred yards away. He parked to make it easy to unload his horses and unhitch his rig. His cousins followed suit.
The breeze, so familiar and scented with pine, blew down from the Gallatin Mountain range that towered over the north border of the ranch nestled into the foothills. The ranch was his favorite place in the country—and he’d traveled a lot. It was where he felt most himself. And the rolling foothills, covered in richest pasture grass—some of which they sold—pines and native fauna were the most beautiful sights in the world to him, when he’d head down Highway 89 and see the ranch and Paradise Valley spread out below him, welcoming him.
This was paradise. Home. And it always centered him, but not tonight.
Because Ashni wasn’t here.
“Did you get a phone call from hell?” Bodhi demanded.
“No, a text.”
“Maddy texted?” Bodhi asked incredulously.
No one called Madelyn Maddy ever. Nor did anyone but Bodhi call his mom—Genevieve Suzanne—Jenny, Viv or Suze. Not even her father. And Bodhi wouldn’t say any of those nicknames to her face.
“What? No.” He shook his head. He’d had hours to brood over Ashni’s text that she was staying in town because it was more convenient. How the hell was staying nearly a twenty-minute drive away from him convenient?
And what would she do in town? He’d be busy on the ranch with chores and upgrades. She often helped when they were home and cooked up meals like a chef competing on a network foody show. She loved playing in the kitchen and left Granddad a freezer full of food. A couple of years ago he and his cousins had upgraded the kitchen for her. Beck had built new butcher block countertops and cabinets and open shelves, and they’d all pitched in on new and upgraded appliances.
But he always made time to go into town with her or let her borrow his truck. How many men would be okay with that? Beck had tried to call her multiple times today, possibly veering into stalker mode, but she hadn’t picked up. Not once.
He couldn’t make sense of it. They hadn’t had a fight. They never fought. Not like he’d seen lots of couples do on the road. The rodeo folks were a passionate crowd, but Beck and Ashni had always saved their passion for the bedroom. Two weeks since he’d seen her. Held her. Made love to her, and now she wasn’t here. What kind of BS was that? His stomach cramped and his head pounded.
Maybe he was sick.
Not heartbroke.
“Earth to Beck.” Bodhi waved a hand in front of his face. He slapped it away.
“Yeah, Mom called.” He tried to get his head back into the conversation. Bodhi eyed him suspiciously. Maybe he should become a cop after the rodeo. That would actually be a funny TV show. He’d charm confessions out of all his suspects. “She’s coming. They’re all coming,” he said gloomily.
“Did she mention sprucing up the house to put the ranch on the market?” Bowen asked just as their granddad appeared on the porch.
They all waved.
“Yeah.”
“So what was the text from hell?” Bodhi never let anything go, but Beck wasn’t sharing his trouble. If there was trouble. And definitely not to Bodhi, who had predicted problems today.
Never give a man ammunition to shoot when you’ve already shot yourself in the foot.
But what had he done?
Sure, it had been hella awkward with Jerry for a few moments today in the winner’s circle, but Ash had been far away. Yes, he should have attended the wedding. But he couldn’t afford missing any events. He’d dropped in points this year, but Bodhi and Bowen were on fire.
“Must be bad if you’re ignoring me.” Bodhi followed him as he unlocked his trailer doors.
“I’m not. Just got work to do and want to see Granddad.”
“And I’m supposed to just ignore the fact that Ash isn’t with you?”
“Yup.” He hopped in his trailer.
Bodhi stared up at him speculatively and then began humming under his breath, something he should obviously recognize since Bodhi smirked.
“Going to…”
“Leave it until Grey’s tonight.” Bowen slapped his work gloves against Bodhi’s face, interrupting the song as Granddad approached.
“Yes, Dad.” Bodhi grinned and then turned to Granddad for a full-on embrace—no one-armed side hug and back or shoulder slap for Bodhi.
Maybe that’s why women loved him.
Everyone did.
Loved and admired and indulged.
The social part, the celebrity part, had always been harder for Beck. He tried to emulate Bodhi. Fell short. But got back up and tried again. Ash always made social situations easy. She was so quick to smile and engage and encourage everyone. She oozed peace and concern. Entering that high school music room after seeing the most beautiful girl in the world through the window singing was still hands down the smartest thing he’d ever done.
He’d seen her and known she was the one. Part of his future. Half his life now. And nothing that had happened in the intervening years had sown one seed of doubt.
So why was he so unsettled? And why was something that had always been so easy suddenly so hard?
While they took care of their horses and put them in stalls, they chatted with Granddad about the ranch, the rodeo, the usual things. It was all so normal—no mention of the moms’ visit or possibly selling—but Beck felt darn near to crawling out of his skin with stress. He’d texted Ashni, wanting to meet up tonight—just them—a sacrilege since Sunday night was always dinner at the ranch, Ashni cooking Granddad’s favorite, chicken tikka masala, and then a beer at Grey’s with a round of pool. Maybe a bit of dancing and then home.
He’d asked if he could pick her up so they could take a drive or go out to dinner. No answer.
“Something smells good.” Bowen sniffed appreciatively as they all stepped into the mudroom and toed off their boots, lining them up like they always did.
“Your favorite, Granddad,” Beck burst out, recognizing the savory scent, and the relief that poured through him weakened his knees so that he stumbled over a splinter in the floor.
He hopped and pulled it out. Refinishing the floors was on the to-do list this week or next, although with the moms here that might be impossible. He tried to stroll into the kitchen slightly less eager than he’d been, but he needn’t have bothered. Ash wasn’t here.
“Where’s Ash?” he asked looking around.
“She and that cute little gal married to Kane Wilder and a couple of her sisters-in-law came over a few hours ago with bags of groceries. Ashni gave a master class in cooking her chicken tikka masala, veggie biryani, chana, and then Bodhi’s favorite saag. Oh, and they made a stack of chapatis as long as my arm. All the gals were rolling them out, messing them up and laughing and talking a mile every minute.”
Granddad lifted the lid on one pot, and the fragrance was mouthwatering.
“I sat right there and watched it all. Drank a beer, ate a couple of chapatis as their official taste tester. Had a good time. The house was alive.”
He looked at Beck. “Even though she’s busy this week, she didn’t want me to miss out on my favorite meal. Sweet girl. Keeper.”
Of course he was keeping her. “Busy?”
“How could you forget between winning and giving away the art horse and now?” Bodhi demanded.
“Huh?”
“She’s teaching an art class this week at Harry’s House,” both Granddad and Bodhi said at the same time.
“Storytelling through art,” Bowen added. “The kids have one wall in the teen room to create a mural.”
Awareness shot through Beck and he all but slapped his forehead. He knew that. She’d been working on plans for it for over a month now. She’d been so excited that he’d felt guilty that she hadn’t had the chance to teach before. And then the awkwardness between them, and the missed wedding, Jerry, a crap ride, his mom’s visit and bombshell.
“Slipped my mind,” he muttered when all three of them stared at him like he was slightly deranged. “Momentarily.”
So that was why he’d wanted the plush. To celebrate her opportunity and accomplishment. His subconscious had been trying to nudge the rest of him to wake up and pay attention.
“Let’s eat,” Bowen said.
“Then you can try to climb out of the doghouse,” Bodhi added.
“She seemed real happy,” Granddad said, oblivious to his tension. “She had this tattoo thing all over her hands. Not permanent, but it will last a few weeks. Said it was from the wedding party. Looked real pretty.”
“Mehndi,” Beck said, feeling hollow.
“That was it,” Granddad said. “Showed me some pictures. Real fancy getups the girls wear. So much gold they glitter like Christmas trees. Men too. Colors so bright they hurt your eyes. Beer?”
They washed their hands. Beck got the beer. Bowen set the table and Bodhi poured the water. It was all so familiar—the kitchen, the routine, the meal, and yet utterly foreign because Ash wasn’t here.
And all the light and warmth had been sucked from the room because she was gone. They dished up straight from the stove and sat down at the farmhouse table that had been built by Granddad’s daddy.
Beck sat down next to his grandfather. His chicken and biryani cooled while the conversation swirled around him, Bodhi holding court, Granddad catching them up on the ranch and the news of Marietta. He had no idea how his granddad had time to work since he seemed to be heading into town several times a week to meet his cronies at the Java Café, and then there were his poker nights. He even mentioned a history and biography book club at the library for seniors.
“You’re really drinking lattes?” he roused himself to demand.
“Some young trendy barista home from college made me something called a caramel macchiato. Couldn’t believe it, but she’s Daniel’s granddaughter so I couldn’t say no. Now it’s my go-to drink.”
All three of them stared at their granddad, who tore off another hunk of chapati and chewed it thoughtfully. “I think I finally found a vice,” he confessed.
Beck’s fork clattered on the table.
“You’re messing with us,” Bodhi declared.
“Thought we could go out for a coffee after chores one morning this week,” Granddad said, looking at all three of them. “You can treat,” he said pointing at Beck, “and explain what fool thing you did to upset Ashni.” His granddad had finally invited the elephant in the room into the conversation.
Beck winced, opened his mouth to defend himself, and at his granddad’s glare, closed it again.
“Bowen will think of a plan to fix it, and you—” he smiled at Bodhi “—can think of a way to entertain my three daughters and keep them out of my hair and in yours instead.”
“No thanks,” Bodhi said, pushing his chair back to saunter to the stove to fix a plate of seconds. “I don’t even know why they’re coming. Especially during the rodeo. The moms are allergic to all things ranch, and my mama hasn’t seen me ride a bull or rope since my junior rodeo days. Said it made her feel faint and doubt my sanity.”
“Heck, me too.” Granddad laughed. “But I do like to watch you boys test fate and wrestle the beasts. Does the Ballantyne name proud.”
Bodhi sat back down again and dug into his food.
“I’ll miss all that.” Granddad’s deep rumble of a voice was almost an afterthought as he soaked up the last of his chicken masala with his last remaining chapati.
They’d already eaten through a third of the stack in one meal.
“We’re still competing in the rodeo, Granddad,” Bodhi said.
Silence met that statement.
“The moms are going to help with the Ballantyne Bash this year,” Beck said into the awkward silence.
“They’re probably a little nostalgic and wanting to have a last glimpse at their childhood home.”
All three Ballantyne cousins paused mid bite following their granddad’s statement. A large chunk of flavorful chicken freshly balanced on Bodhi’s fork splatted back on his plate.
Granddad took another hearty bite of chicken and chewed thoughtfully. “Feeling the same way myself.”
Beck forced himself to swallow. “Granddad, what’s got you feeling nostalgic?” he asked cautiously. He wasn’t actually falling in with the moms’ plans, was he? An old folks’ home? Assisted living? A condo? He doubted his granddad had even seen a condo.
“Well, you know—” he looked at them each in the eyes “—I’m not getting any younger.”
With his wiry build, booming voice, full head of thick, salt-and-pepper hair that grew back from his strong, square, high forehead, and his dark brows that framed piecing blue eyes shining with command and life, Ben Ballantyne looked full of life and vigor.
“You all got your lives and dreams. My girls are all settled in Denver. None of you seem intent on settling down anytime soon. The legacy a ranch offers can be a gift or a burden. For me it’s been both. Thought I’d try something new while I still can,” he announced. “I’m thinking about selling the ranch.”