“Dinner?”
She’d been about to get in her rental car and head back to the inn, after reluctantly saying goodbye to Tri, when Chance had come back outside. And at her first sight of him she had that old saying running continuously through her mind, about if you want to know how a man will treat his wife, watch how he treats his mother. She had no business even pondering that.
“She insists. You don’t want to try to resist my mother when she insists.”
“So I gather,” she said, thinking of all the people she’d encountered since her arrival who had been of the same opinion, that Maggie Rafferty was a force to be reckoned with.
“Will begging work? Because I’ll take the heat if you don’t stay.”
She stared at him. The promised clouds had arrived, and somehow the grayness of the sky seemed to make his eyes look more gray than blue. She wondered if she would ever get tired of looking at them. Then she wondered if she’d lost her mind, thinking things like that. She tried to snap herself out of it with a teasing response.
“You, beg? I think not.”
The front door opened, and Maggie stuck her head out. “Please stay,” she called out. “Keller and Sydney are in town, Rylan was hit with inspiration and is holed up, and Lucas is off with Cody and Sean Highwater getting ready for the parade. Which I promise I won’t try to trick you into going to. But if you don’t stay, I’ll be stuck alone with Mr. Monosyllabic here.”
Ariel couldn’t help it, she laughed at the description, even as she thought she wasn’t sure it really applied anymore. He’d certainly been more than monosyllabic with her, on occasion. But she gave in. And secretly, she knew it was because she wanted to, she hadn’t really wanted to leave at all. She knew something important had happened today, when she’d hit upon what had been eating at him so badly for so long. He’d looked so shell-shocked at first, but gradually, slowly, as they’d driven back here she’d seen, and thought she’d felt, a change in him. Something deep and heartfelt. And she wanted to know if she was right.
“All right,” she said.
She turned to get her purse back out of the rental, while Chance went to get Tri out of the truck.
“I thought you were required to do the grocery shopping?” she asked as he bent to remove the harness, leaving the leash in place.
“Holiday exemption,” he said as he tossed the harness back inside. “Mom does all the holiday food.” He gave her a sideways look. “It’s past the first, so any moment she’ll be starting the baking.”
She laughed again, and again it struck her how often that was happening. And on the heels of that thought, it struck her how much she liked his. She felt a pang, and she wasn’t sure if it was missing Dean, and how they’d always laughed, or…guilt at liking Chance’s rarer laugh so much. Maybe that was it. Because it was much rarer, it was more…precious.
Precious? That idea, that word, rattled her out of her thoughts and she focused on getting Tri inside.
Once they were inside Quinta immediately trotted over to greet the newcomer. Tri looked back at Chance. “At ease, buddy,” he said quietly, unhooking the leash. And the dogs set off to apparently make security rounds of the house.
“Amazing,” Maggie said, watching them go. “He’s a different dog.”
“Yes,” Chance said.
Maggie shifted her gaze to Ariel. “Bless you for coming for him. Don’t give up.”
“I know it won’t all be as easy as this seems to have been,” she said. “But I have no intention of giving up.” She smiled at this woman she already liked. “I’m stubborn that way.”
“Good,” Maggie said. “You’ll need to be.” And Ariel had the strangest feeling she was no longer talking about the dog.
The meal was delicious, a spread of build-your-own soft tacos that included some delicious shredded pork, beef, and unexpectedly, some fish Maggie said had just come off the truck in town and she’d sautéed up with butter and a lemony dill sauce that was the perfect counterpart. Topped with homemade guacamole and rich sour cream, they were incredible, and Ariel found herself eating more than she had in recent memory. The final touch was an unexpected but delightful peppermint tea that lightened things just enough. Even Chance, who said he wasn’t a tea drinker, downed a cup of the sweet stuff.
“Wow,” she said when she finally had to admit she was too full for another bite. “I quite made a pig of myself.”
“Delighted to see it,” Maggie said. “Except now you’d better go walk some off or that pie I picked up in town this morning will go to waste.” She shot her son a sideways look. “It’s Char-Pie’s pecan, in case you’re thinking about skipping out.”
Ariel looked at him just in time to see him lower his gaze to his own empty plate, and she couldn’t be sure who he’d been looking at. “I wasn’t,” he muttered.
They cleaned up the dishes, the three of them working together, Chance silent except for the occasional task-oriented comment or question. He politely asked if she wanted to go for that walk his mother had suggested. Too politely. Sometimes those manners were a pain, or a buffer she couldn’t seem to get through. Which then inevitably gave rise to the question of why that mattered so much.
Tri was sprawled on the floor, with Quinta, obviously tired from his busy day. His head came up when they headed for the door. Chance looked back at his mother questioningly.
“Let him stay,” she said. “He seems tired enough to stay calm, and if not, might as well find out.”
So Chance repeated the “at ease” command and the dog’s dark head went down again.
“Check on Bonnie and Two, will you? And Ariel,” Maggie added, “take one of the heavier jackets by the door. It’s frosty outside now that it’s dark.”
“Your mom is amazing,” she said as they went outside, into indeed frosty-feeling air.
“She is.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her.”
“There were times we didn’t make it easy.”
“I’m sure. Four boys, by herself.”
“Three.” At her look, he gave her that damned shrug again. “Keller wasn’t a boy from the moment our father was killed.”
The sky was dark now, with no moon, so she couldn’t see his expression. After a moment, in the most casual tone she could manage, she said, “So Keller took on your father’s role here, while you took on your father’s role for your country.”
He stopped in his tracks. She didn’t have to be able to see him to know he was staring at her. She shrugged back at him, on purpose. “Where am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer. She hoped it was because he realized she wasn’t wrong. Just as she hoped he’d accepted that neither she nor Dean blamed him for what had happened. Because she’d meant every word.
After a moment they continued walking. She could almost feel him thinking. But he didn’t speak. He just headed toward the big barn. They went through the small door in the big, sliding door and stepped inside. She could sense the life inside, smell the scent of hay and grain, hear the rustle as animals reacted to their presence. Just inside there was another door, and he reached through to flip a switch in what was obviously a room for all their gear: saddles, bridles, ropes, things she had no names for. A tack room, she thought that’s what it was called.
Soft, not quite dim lights came on throughout the barn. He started down the wide aisle, and equine heads popped out as he went. She noticed the stalls were numbered by signs above each door, odd numbers down the left, even on the right.
“Do they have names? Or just numbers, like Quinta?” she asked, making sure she was smiling and her tone teasing.
He nodded toward the first stall where a gray horse stood watching them. “That’s Seven. He’s Mom’s.”
She hadn’t really expected it to be true. “Oh.”
“His real name is Lucky Seven, but she wanted to keep to her theme.”
She looked back at him. And now, with the lights, there was no missing the tightness of his mouth. She might have thought he was angry, but for the twitch at the corners. She played along.
“And who’s this?” she asked as a sleek, black head turned to watch them approach. “Three, because of the stall number?”
“No. Three—Trey, really—Cody’s bay, is in stall four.”
“So three is in four.” She stopped, waited, sensing there was more coming. There was.
He nodded toward the black horse. “That’s Flyer. He’s in number three because he belongs to Ry.”
She frowned, then got it. “The third-born.”
“Where’s Keller’s horse?”
He gestured with a thumb to the other side of aisle. “Stall two,” he said.
She looked and saw the horse she’d seen Keller on earlier, the one that had looked almost blue in the sunlight. “But he’s not named Two…too, is he?” she asked, thinking of the baby out in the corral the other day.
“That’s where it breaks down,” he said, sounding almost sorrowful. “He’s just Blue. Because he’s a blue roan. No number involved.”
The twitch at the corners of his mouth came again, but this time it was obvious. “You’re pulling my chain,” she accused.
“Yep.” He admitted it—surprisingly—so easily that when he finally quit fighting the smile she couldn’t help smiling back. He reached out and patted the bluish horse’s neck. “Cody says Keller has no imagination.”
To her own surprise she felt a jab of irritation through the humor. “Maybe he’s just been too busy to indulge it.” He gave her a startled look. “Sorry. A bit defensive there, because I admire what your brother has done.”
“Don’t apologize. So do I. More than…I’ve ever told him,” he said quietly.
“Tell him,” she urged. “Don’t assume he knows.”
After a moment, he nodded. He looked as if there was more he was thinking about saying, but then he looked away as a soft whinny came from the far end of the barn. “I think we’d better go say hello to Two and his mom now.”
She chuckled at the necessary rhyme as they headed that way. The golden head of the mare came over the bottom door of the stall, which Ariel now saw was about twice the size of the others. The pair of golden horses with black markings and mane and tail looked just as pretty to her as they had outside. The little one poked his nose at her, and under mom’s watchful gaze she patted him gently.
“You said he looks just like his…?”
“Generationally, his great-grandfather. Buckshot.” He seemed to hesitate, then went on. “He was my father’s. He died a couple of years ago, at twenty-eight.”
“That’s old for a horse, isn’t it?”
“Old enough, I guess.”
She studied him for a moment. “But it still must have been hard. Like losing one more daily link to your dad.”
His eyes widened, just slightly, but she knew she’d hit home. They shared so much, she and this family, things nobody wants to share.
Chance took in an audible breath and then said a hair too briskly, “And now Two here looks just like him. Same coloring and markings, down to the crooked part of the blaze on his nose.”
The little colt apparently decided he’d exerted enough energy that he needed sustenance and turned to his mother to nurse.
“Sweet,” she whispered, watching the pair.
“Yes.”
Something in his voice, some low, rough note made her turn to look at him. And something about his expression, about how close he was, reminded her of that moment when she’d slid out of his truck and ended up practically pressed against him.
And when he moved, when he put his hands on her shoulders—gently enough that she could easily pull away—and bent his head, she knew what was coming. And in that moment she realized she’d been waiting for it. An idea that so stunned her she couldn’t even think about stopping him.
And then she realized the most stunning thing of all.
She didn’t want to.