Page 23 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

Fourteen

Lily

T he rest of the day went by in a sort of numb fast-forward.

The bakery rush left a film of powdered sugar and sweat on my skin, and I could barely remember the orders I’d filled or the people I’d served.

After my shift, I went home to scrub flour out of my hair, cleaned up three consecutive toddler disasters, and tried not to overthink the dinner. That didn’t work.

I changed shirts three times before giving up and settling on a simple blue tee, the least-wrinkled of the bunch, and a blue and gray plaid skirt that skimmed my knees.

I braided my hair, then decided I hated it and took it out so it fell in waves.

Noah was obsessed with his “fancy shirt” (which was just his Spider-Man pajama top), and after five minutes of negotiation, I decided that “fancy” was a state of mind, not a dress code.

At exactly 5:55, the rumble of an engine in the parking lot made my heart drop into my stomach. Noah was at the window in a blink, flattening his hands on the glass and pressing his nose against it so hard I could see the shape of his nostrils from across the room.

“Mama! Mr. Ford is here!” he yelled, then sprinted in socked feet toward the door.

I took a breath, steadied my hands, and carried Noah down the stairs.

Outside, Ford stood leaning against a truck that could have doubled as a small tank.

It was all shiny new metal and oversized tires, so out of place next to the ancient sedans of my neighbors that it looked like someone had copy-pasted it into the scene.

He wore jeans and a deep blue shirt, sleeves once again rolled to his forearms. The wind had gotten to his hair, which flopped in a perfect curl over one brow.

His glasses glinted in the evening light, and for a second, he looked less like a billionaire and more like someone who genuinely belonged in a place like this. Maybe he really did.

He saw us and grinned, the kind of smile that made me forget how to breathe.

“I was waiting until six p.m. sharp to ring the buzzer,” he said with a smirk.

Noah was out the door before I could stop him, barreling across the lot with both arms outstretched. “Pick me up! Pick me up, Ford!”

Ford dropped to a squat and scooped Noah up in a smooth, practiced motion, spinning him once. “Hey, buddy! You all ready for steak and chaos?”

Noah giggled, clinging to Ford’s neck like a monkey. “Are we gonna see cows?”

“Depends if you behave yourself,” Ford said, then fixed me with a look that made my face go warm. “You look beautiful,” he said, voice dropping to just above a whisper.

I ducked my head, too embarrassed to answer, which in turn made me even more embarrassed. “You ready, Bug?” I said to Noah.

He gave a double thumbs up, then pointed dramatically at Ford’s truck. “Whoa. That’s a monster truck!”

Ford laughed. “Guess it is.” He set Noah on his hip, then reached for my hand to help me down the steps. His hand was big, rough at the palm but warm, and he didn’t let go until we reached the truck.

I didn’t look back up at the windows. If I did, I’d probably see the old lady on the third floor watching us and making mental notes for her next phone call to her gossip circle.

“Oh! I forgot Noah’s car seat. I don’t have a car, but I have one I use for when we ride in other people’s.”

His lips turned down in a quick frown, but he quickly hid it. “Nah, don’t worry about that.”

“No, I mean, it’s safest for him to be in a carseat.”

He smiled now. “I know.”

Ford opened the passenger door, helping me up and into the monster truck. I only lost my balance a little. Then he opened the back door for Noah, leaning in and buckling him into a brand new car seat I suspected hadn’t been there that morning.

“When did you get a car seat?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

He shrugged, not making a big deal out of it. “Figured I’d need one if I wanted to hang out with my new best friend.”

Noah beamed, then immediately started fiddling with the buttons on the harness.

Ford grinned at me as he climbed in with all the grace of a seasoned cowboy hopping on a horse. “He’s gonna figure out how to escape that thing before we get to the next stop sign.”

“He’s talented,” I said, sliding my seatbelt across me. I almost commented on how the truck still smelled new, but stopped myself.

He started the truck, then turned to make sure Noah was still buckled in, before glancing at me again. “You good?”

“Good,” I said, even though my heart was vibrating in my throat.

We pulled onto Maple and headed north out of town. The windows were cracked, and the Montana air filled the cab, cool and sharp with the scent of grass and distant woodsmoke.

Ford pointed out landmarks as we went. “That's the church where I broke my arm trying to climb the bell tower when I was eleven.

Pastor Wilson caught me halfway up and I fell trying to get away.

And over there's the fire hall—I used to sneak in with Mason after school and slide down the pole until Chief Donovan chased us out with a broom.” He had a way of telling stories that made every place we passed feel like it mattered.

Noah peppered him with questions, which Ford fielded with the patience of a saint.

“What’s that big thing?”

“That’s a grain silo. Holds a million pounds of wheat.”

“Can we go in it?”

“Not unless you want to get buried in flour and never see daylight again.”

“Cool,” Noah breathed.

I watched the fields roll by, golden and brittle, ready for the first snow. The mountains in the distance glowed purple, their tops streaked with the last of the setting sun. There was something about the way the light fell across the landscape that made me feel both huge and tiny all at once.

Ford glanced at me during a lull in Noah’s interrogation. “You grew up out here, right?”

“Yeah. My mom and I lived about ten miles north, on the old Michaels farm. I used to work summers at the farmers market, selling tomatoes.”

Ford’s mouth twitched, like he knew what I wasn’t saying. “Did you always want to stay in Whittier Falls?”

The question made me think. “I used to think I’d leave as soon as I could. Go to college, live in a city. But then I met my ex.” My voice softened to avoid Noah’s ears. “Got married far too young and sort of just stayed around here.” I shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ford said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant the landscape or something else.

I turned to look out the window, feeling my face heat up. In the back seat, Noah sang quietly to himself, making up a song about trucks and pancakes and “getting flour power.”

After a few miles, Ford slowed and took a gravel turnoff marked with a sun-faded sign: RED DOWNS RANCH.

We followed the winding drive through a patchwork of fence lines, past corrals and barns and a long, low house that seemed to rise straight out of the field. The porch light was on, even though the sun was still high enough to paint everything in gold.

Ford parked beside a battered old Chevy pickup that looked like it’d been held together with duct tape and spit for a decade. “That’s Gray’s ranch truck I bet,” he said. “I can tell by the missing tailgate.”

We got out. The ranch was alive with noise—cattle lowing in a far field, the thud of boots on wood, someone inside the house laughing. Noah immediately spotted a group of cows in the pasture and pointed, shrieking, “LOOK, MAMA! COWS!”

I tried to keep him from darting into the grass, but Ford caught his arm, swooping him up and tossing him in the air. Noah squealed and clapped, completely fearless.

“They’re so big!” Noah screamed, pointing at a pair of heifers just inside the fence line. “Do they eat kids?”

“Only the bad ones,” Ford called, and Noah laughed so hard he nearly fell out of Ford’s arms.

“Look at all the cows waiting for you to moo at them” Ford said, and Noah’s whole body vibrated with excitement.

“MOOOO!” Noah yelled, then giggled when a cow moo’d back in the distance.

I glanced at Ford. The last of the sunlight caught the side of his face, highlighting the faint stubble and the curve of his jaw. He caught me looking and gave a shy half-smile. I could tell he was nervous, which made me feel a little braver than usual.

He reached for my hand, the briefest touch, and then let go, as if he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. I liked that about him.

I trailed behind as Ford led the way up the porch steps. The door swung open before we even reached it.

Eryn stood in the doorway, arms outstretched, wearing a yellow dress and a grin that could power the eastern grid. “You made it!” She pulled me in for a hug, then ruffled Noah’s hair. “Look at you, little man! Did Ford drive too fast?”

“No,” Noah said. “He has a monster truck!”

She winked at me. “You are brave, Lily.”

Ford set Noah down, and Eryn gave Ford a quick, tight hug.

“Good to see you,” she whispered, and I thought if anyone could get Gray to get over his grudge against Ford, it was Eryn.

She could practically get anyone to do anything.

“Come in, come in. Don’t worry, Ford, Damon isn’t joining us tonight. ”

Ford laughed, but I felt a weight lift off my shoulders I didn’t realize had been there. I didn’t want to have to ice another bruise tonight.

Inside, the open floor plan of house showed off a crash of color and sound.

The kitchen was a war zone of platters and bowls and the aroma of roasting potatoes and garlic.

Walker was there, apron around his neck, basting something in a pan with one hand and texting with the other.

Mason and Chloe had arrived with Abby, who immediately tackled Noah and they both rolled across the floor in a tangle of giggles.

It felt like walking straight into a Hallmark movie—one I had never been part of, but somehow now belonged to.

Ford hovered by the door, a little stiff, taking in the noise and chaos with a wary look. Eryn caught it and squeezed his arm. “Come on, I’ll get you a beer. Or wine, if you want to stay civilized.”