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“Fine. A little itchy, a little tight. But otherwise, it feels normal,” she says, opening and closing her palm where it sits on mine between us. I take another quick look before my attention’s back on the road, my hold on hers remaining because I just don’t want to let go. She moves her hand, turning it to hold on to mine, our fingers gripping together with increasing familiarity that feels good.
“Good,” I tell her, trying to watch where I’m driving but finding it difficult.
“I bet Harvey loves running around this place,” she says, looking at me and smiling. I’m glad my son brings as much joy to her as he does me. Being a single dad is hard, but also my most cherished role so meeting a woman who respects that is important.
“He loves it. Literally falls into bed every night exhausted.” I laugh, thinking about my son who fell asleep not long after dinner last night with mud still on his face.
“Were you like that as a kid?” she asks.
“Yeah. Huxley, Connor, and I would always be running around and getting into trouble. Usually at Tanner’s distillery,” I tell her, and she smiles. “What about you? Get up to mischief growing up?”
“No.” She sighs. “I mean, when I was little, I was such a girly girl, so tea parties with my dolls was what I gravitated to. Fishing, camping, and outdoor activities weren’t really my thing. I got bullied a bit in school. I guess I was just different than the other kids. The older I got, the more responsibilities I had at home, and kids can be mean. Jolene, the woman from the diner, she was my main bully, something she still seems to carry until this day for some unknown reason. When the kids from school would go swimming at the mineral springs or to the diner for milkshakes, I would be home with Mom,” she says, and I suck in air, realizing that this woman has been a caretaker for a long damn time. I know from my work that caring for a family member or friend can be challenging. Without the right support in place, those responsibilities can take over and start affecting caretakers’ health and well-being and limit their ability to participate in paid work, family life, and social and community activities. I’m seeing that firsthand with Lacy. It’s why I now broach what I have done this week.
“So, in regard to those responsibilities…” I start, pausing for a moment, not sure how she will react. “I have been doing some research this week on that caretaker option I was telling you about. There’s a woman I found in Williamstown. She is a home carer. Someone who comes into your home and helps with the basics to alleviate any responsibilities on the families.”
“Alleviate?” she questions, her tone more inquisitive than angry, so I continue.
“She is fully qualified, first aid trained and all that. Her name is Jennifer. Her primary role is to help aroundthe house as an additional set of hands. So things like meal preparation, housework, grocery shopping, taking your mom out for shopping, walks, appointments, that kind of thing,” I tell her as I turn up the hill to our destination.
“I looked into that once a few years ago, but I could never find anyone.” No wonder she has been doing everything herself; she probably thought that this type of support wasn’t available to her. But a lot can happen in a few years and the nearby town of Williamstown continues to grow with people and with new sets of skills.
“She has been a home carer for about five years in Williamstown and has great qualifications. If you are open to it, I can have you meet her?” I ask, hopeful that she is willing. Support like this would be a game changer to Lacy; I’m sure of it.
“I think it will feel weird to have someone else in our home…” she says tentatively, but I can tell she is thinking about it.
“It does no harm to meet her. Maybe have a coffee with her and then see how you feel? I think any support you can get at home is going to beneficial, not just for you but for your mom too. I’m sure she would love someone new to talk to and get to know. She must feel isolated at times.” While it’s true, it’s probably a low blow. I know if anything gets Lacy over the line, it will be the help she can give her mom.
“Maybe you’re right… Okay. Thank you. I will meet her and see what happens.” She gives me a small smile, and I grin widely at her. The trust Lacy has put in me feels equal parts fantastic and terrifying, but she is starting to open up about life, and the fact that she’s open to receiving help goes to show exactly how exhausted she is.
“We’re here,” I say, pulling up and parking. It’s a small hill at the back of the ranch, and up here, you can see our entire property. Decades ago, this land wasn’t worth much, but my parents farmed it, and it was where my brother and I grew up. Now it sits at the start of what the locals call Billionaires Boulevard, a long road that winds through the back of Whispers, elevated with views of the town. The properties next to us are out of sight, as our land borders are marked with thick pines offering security, privacy, and protection from the elements.
“Wow, this is amazing,” Lacy says, sitting forward, looking out the windshield. The sun is setting, the orange-pink sky low on the horizon. I jump out of the truck and run around to her door.
“C’mon. Let me show you the property.” I take her hand, helping her out of the truck. She struggles a little so I wrap my arm around her waist. “Here,” I say, gliding her body down, me standing close enough that I can feel her curves pressing into the front of my chest. Her feet hit the ground and tiptoe with my own.
“Smooth moves, Doctor,” she teases, and I grin like a lovesick puppy.
“It’s just the beginning, Lacy baby.” My words have heat, and I see her pupils dilate as she bites her bottom lip. A move that almost makes me feral.
“I look forward to the rest, then,” she whispers, looking up at me under her eyelashes, her cheeks tinted pink.
“Hmmmm, you’re killing me, looking at me like that,” I say, my voice hoarse. Stepping back, I give us some space and keep my hand in hers. I walk with her a few steps to the edge of the hill, just before the grass starts to slope down.
“So this is all yours?” she asks, stepping in front of me and looking out to the west. As she takes in the panoramic view of the property, I take the time to admire her a little. Her dark hair is down in soft waves, her makeup minimal, jeans, boots, and a sweater on. Simple. Easy. And sexy as hell.
“Over until the pines,” I say, standing next to her. My thumb continues to run over her hand, and I can’t stop. Touching her is all I want to do. I take a deep breath to pull myself together. It wasneverlike this with Amanda. We had fun. Lots of fun. We were both independent and my work was busy. It was a no-strings relationship for months, until strings attached themselves to us permanently in the way of Harvey. I feel the fresh cool air hit my lungs, and this time, there is a small floral aroma mixed with it. Lacy’s fragrance. It smells nice.
“The river is down there.” I point, loosening my grip on her hand and smoothing my arm around her back instead, bringing her close to my side and guiding her on where to look. “It runs right around here to the east.”
“It’s really flowing today.”
I feel her body move into mine a little. It isn’t unlike how we stood, looking at the stars the other night. She fits against me perfectly. It feels right, she feels right. Like it is meant to be.
“Lots of fish. A great spot for fishing,” I tell her, and she nods, looking over it all.
“Mom and Dad’s place is over there. Huxley and I live there.” I point to the large place across the way. Her eyebrows rise a little. It’s huge. Magnificent, really. All timber and glass, everything oversized. Vastly different from where she lives. I’ve noticed her house needs a bit of work. Something I might look into for her.
“What is that?” she asks, pointing to a flattened spot, large trees all around, a pool already dug out. My builder, Griffin, has just poured the concrete slab for the house.