Page 6 of Fern’s Date with Destiny (Heart Falls Vignette and Novella Collection #4)

F ern hurried down the stairs and slid into the front foyer three minutes before Cody was supposed to arrive. Partly because she’d taken longer to get ready than expected, changing outfits more times than she should have, and partly to avoid meeting one of her parents.

She and Cody had said they wouldn’t lie to direct questions about what they were doing, but keeping her mouth shut would be the simplest way to keep things hush hush for at least a week.

She shoved her feet into her boots, pulled her coat off the rack?—

“You’re up early on your day off.” Sophie stood in the archway leading to the family room, hands wrapped around a mug of tea.

“Off for an adventure,” Fern tossed out. Generic, yet reason enough to excuse her odd behaviour.

“Nice,” her mom said. She stepped to the window beside the door and peered out. “That’s Cody’s truck.”

“Yup.” Fern slipped her coat on and reached for the doorknob.

Her mom beat her to it, swinging the door open and offering a kiss goodbye. “Say hello to Chance and Rose from me.” Sophie waved at the truck.

“Okay.” Fern scurried away so fast she was all the way down the sidewalk before Cody could make it around the truck to open the passenger door for her.

He waved back at the house as she crawled in then returned to the driver’s seat before eyeing her cautiously. “Is our secret gone that quickly?”

“No.” Fern let the wave of shock pass by before amusement snuck in. She turned to face Cody. “Mom saw you and assumed we were meeting up with Rose and Chance.”

“Sweet.” Cody put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Let’s not hang around and wait for your dad to come out with something for us to deliver to one of them.”

He drove toward Red Boot ranch, and for a hopeful moment Fern imagined they were headed to grab horses.

Instead, he took them on an old forestry road that twisted high into the foothills, and not even Cody’s sturdy old blue Ford could eliminate the bumping and rattling beneath them.

Fern braced herself to stop from bouncing too far. Her breath kept catching every time he shot her that sideways grin. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her stomach swoop as if they’d hit a hidden pothole.

Although on this road, it was up in the air which was the actual cause of the butterflies in her belly.

“Question,” she said brightly, gripping the edge of her seat as they bobbed over another rut. “Should I be worried you’re driving me this far from civilization?”

Cody snorted. “Trust me, sweetheart. If I wanted to hide your body, there are spots closer to home.”

“Comforting,” Fern deadpanned.

She let her head fall back against the seat and watched the early sunlight flicker through the tall pines overhead. Temperatures were crisp at this elevation, cool enough if she leaned toward the window, she thought it might fog up.

When he turned off the main gravel onto an even narrower track, Fern raised an eyebrow. “This is an official road, right?”

“Define official .”

“Does it appear on a map?”

“Maybe a very old one.”

Fern bit back a laugh as the truck lurched and rocked its way through the underbrush, branches whispering across the windows. “You’re the worst tour guide ever.”

“Funny, because I haven’t heard you ask to turn back yet.”

She didn’t, either.

When the trees finally parted, opening to a small meadow ringed by rocks and stubby spruce, Cody killed the engine then reached behind the seat to grab a battered old knapsack.

“Come on,” he said, grinning at her. “Don’t look so suspicious. Five-minute walk. I promise it’s worth it.”

They clambered out, boots crunching over dry pine cones and loose needles. Fern tugged her coat tighter. The early morning mountain air had a bite to it, but the sunshine made it sparkle too.

She followed him up a faint game trail, half tripping when he turned to catch her hand and tug her up the last rocky rise.

Then she saw them.

Below the ridge, a shallow, winding stream cut through a wide clearing dotted with wild rose bushes and bleached logs. On the far side, grazing calmly, were horses.

Not ranch stock. Not branded. Lean, shaggy creatures with long manes and wary eyes that lifted as she and Cody paused, still as fence posts.

Fern’s breath caught so hard it burned. “Are they?—”

“Wild?” Cody murmured, his voice soft against her temple.

“Yeah. Or feral, technically. Been a few bands roaming these foothills forever. They stay up here if they’ve got enough grass.

They gave us grief a few years ago, drifting onto Red Boot land.

They’ve been staying on their side of the fence since then, so now it’s a pleasure to see them. ”

Fern pressed a hand over her mouth, like the awe might spill out too loudly if she didn’t. Below, a black mare flicked her tail and nudged a bright bay foal closer to her side.

“They’re beautiful,” Fern whispered.

“Figured you’d think so.” Cody’s arm slid around her waist, anchoring her when her knees went a little soft. “Found them two weeks ago when I came up hunting strays.”

She turned in his arms just enough to catch his grin. “You brought me here to see this ?”

“Yup.”

“Cody, this is…” She searched for the word. Found it lodged somewhere deep and soft in her chest. “Perfect.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just brushed his thumb under her chin, tipping her face up so he could kiss her. Slow this time, lazy and thorough. The kind of kiss that made the cool air and distant mountains and his warm jacket pressed to her all blur into one huge sensation.

When he pulled back, Fern tugged him down again to steal one more, laughing into his mouth when he chuckled against her lips.

“Keep that up and they’ll run for sure,” he teased.

“Sorry,” she murmured, completely unrepentant. She pressed her forehead to his. “Not sorry.”

They found a dry spot on an old log a few minutes later, close enough to keep watching the little herd but far enough away that the horses settled down and mostly ignored them.

Cody dug out a thermos, and using the cap as a travel mug, he poured them a cup of strong, black coffee. “I forgot the extra cup, so we’ll have to share.”

Fern wrinkled her nose. “Thanks?”

He snickered then pulled out a Ziplock baggie full of sugar cubes. “I know how you take your coffee. That sweet tooth of yours is going to be the death of me. But have at ‘er.”

Shoulders brushing, they passed the cup between them, whispering and pointing out which horses were their favourites.

Somewhere in that quiet, Fern realized her heart wasn’t racing from the sight of the wild horses anymore. It buzzed with how natural this felt. How right.

She nudged his boot with hers. “We should lay a wager. On how long we can keep our secret going. About us seeing each other.”

“After this morning and your mom’s easy assumptions?” Cody leaned back, balancing on his elbows, squinting at her with that lazy affection she was quickly becoming addicted to. “I’m going to go with months. Like…mid-December.”

“Optimist. I like that about you.” She pretended to think, winding a ringlet around her finger. “If we make it to the end of September, I’ll be happily shocked.”

“There’s the bet.” His grin turned wolfish. “Now we need to haggle over the wager.”

She acted as if maidenly offended. “You don’t want to simply enjoy bragging rights? I’m shocked, Mr. Gabrielle.”

“I’m a nice guy, but not that nice,” he teased. He tipped his hat down to shade his eyes then pulled her in until her head rested on his chest.

As they inclined into each other, awareness of him grew intensely. The strength in the long length of his muscular body, the firm grip of his arm wrapped around her.

The steady thump of his heart under her cheek.

“I like this,” she murmured. “Us. Not having to pretend we’re just friends anymore.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he rumbled, low and content

She smiled against his jacket. The secret. The horses. Him.

All of it hers. For now.

Hopefully for at least another week.

Cody got Fern home just before noon, easing the truck along her quiet street like a man with nothing to hide. Inside, he still hummed with the echo of her laughter and the way she’d curled up under his arm while the horses grazed below.

He’d packed her a picnic breakfast. He’d fed her sugar-laced coffee and stolen half a dozen kisses under that big Alberta sky. They’d made a memory.

It was a start, yet driving away felt as if he were leaving something half finished. He didn’t want to get greedy, but every part of him already craved the next stolen hour.

Back at Red Boot, a soft breeze carried the scent of cut hay from the nearby fields, warm from the sun but with that early hint of autumn threading through as well.

Somewhere down by the corrals, a couple of mares nickered lazily.

Someone, probably old Bert, was whistling off-key, the ranch hand a stubborn ghost in his seventies who refused to retire.

The main yard stretched wide and open, framed by the jagged rise of the Rockies in the distance. On days like this, Cody never felt boxed in. The land gave him room to think, to breathe, to be useful in ways that mattered.

A clatter by the row of guest cottages snapped him back. Two of the hired hands, Austin and Grant, stood beside a window frame, arguing about the caulking gun.

Austin spotted him first, waving to get his attention. “Boss! You got a sec?”

Cody angled his hat back and sauntered over, gravel crunching under his boots. “Looking for more work?”

Grant barked a laugh, raising both hands in surrender. “We already found plenty to add to the list you gave us. We’re working on the pre-winter check lists on the cabins, and turns out, a few of the window casings are pretty shot. They’re not old enough to have this kind of wear and tear.”

“Good catch. That’s the kind of damage that could turn this place into an icebox come January.” Cody squinted at the peeling paint and the warping edges catching the sunlight. “These cabins were built only four years ago, so the windows will still be under warranty. I’ll check the file.”

Austin wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “We’ll finish all the cabins right now so we know how many you need to get on their case about.”

“Perfect.” Cody gave Grant an approving smack on the shoulder. “Better to have to fix this now and not when it means freezing our asses off. First round is on me the next time we hit Rough Cut.”

Both young men puffed up their chests. Grant ducked back inside to measure the sill. Austin lingered, toeing the gravel as if he wanted to say more.

“Something else?” Cody asked.

“Uh...not really. Just, uh—” Austin scratched behind his ear.

“That pretty gal, Fern. The one working for your brother? She’s real nice.

Helped my sister out when she visited the gallery last month.

Fern made Lindzie feel all fancy and important, and not silly at all for not knowing the fancy words for art stuff. ”

Cody schooled his face carefully. “Fern is good people, that’s for sure.”

“You see her sometime, you tell her I said thanks.” Austin hustled after Grant, still rattling off items left on their to-do list.

Cody watched them a moment longer, the warmth in his chest strong as the quiet hum of the ranch wrapped back around him. A good day’s work made the world small and manageable. Fence posts, horses, fresh paint. Things he could fix.

Inside the barn, the scent of clean straw and old cedar hit him like a balm. Marigold greeted him with that soft, dusty whicker, her long ears swiveling forward as he clicked his tongue.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he murmured, running knuckles along the warm velvet of her cheek. “Heard you were favouring your back leg. Let’s see.”

She shifted obligingly, leaning her big head into his chest as if to apologize for being trouble. He braced his hand on the latch, mind half on the swelling he expected to find—and his fingers hesitated.

A tiny pause. No more.

Barely enough to catch his attention before it passed. The latch lifted. Marigold’s breath puffed over his collarbone, warm and sweet.

“Sorry. Just being a clumsy old man,” he told her softly. He checked the joint. Just a bit puffy, probably a stone bruise or mild strain. He’d cold hose it this afternoon, an easy fix.

Outside by the feed shed, he leaned into a sun-warmed post, pulling out his phone with deliberate care to respond to the ping of an incoming message.

Chance: Hey, wee brother. Got a minute?

His thumb hovered an extra second over the keys before he typed.

Cody: Of course. What’s up? Run out of paint?

Chance: Eejit. Rose says to remind you about Friday night. Dinner here then game night. Fern is coming, and Luke and Kelli. Don’t say no. I.e., you can’t say no because she’s already planned the teams and your presence is required. Don’t know why, but for some reason, she likes you. Arse.

Cody huffed out a quiet laugh that startled the barn swallows from the eaves. Gobshite , Chance would’ve called him in person. His older brother had an Irish tongue sharper than any fence staple when he chose to.

Luke and Kelli were solid friends from the community.

And Fern. Her knees bumping his under the table, her eyes saying later in a way that made their secret taste even sweeter.

Cody: Wouldn’t miss it. Need me to bring anything?

Chance: Just your ugly mug. See you then, foreman.

Cody pocketed the phone, pushed away from the fence, and let his gaze roam over the spread he called home. Past the tidy barns, the gleaming metal roofs catching sunlight, out toward the distant roll of pines marching past the foothills and halfway up the mountains.

A good day’s work behind him. A mare to check at sunset. A secret date to plan that was even better than wild horses and sugar cubes.

The odd echo in his hand was already fading from memory.