Page 21 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Leni

It's been an interesting Saturday. I ran to town to grocery shop and when I returned home it was to two children who thought they should make cookies, and while I bake regularly with them, they aren't quite ready to be off on their own.

The cookies were nasty, the kitchen was messy, but they were happy, and rather than get upset with them, I sent them out to the yard after making them help me restore order.

I would not be cleaning up their mess by myself.

Then Rae called and asked me to come help her clean for a last-minute B&B guest, so I herded the children into the car and drove to the homestead.

The kids immediately disappeared into the barn where Walker and Landry were doing who knows what, which reminded me I still had a bone to pick with the youngest Crawford, so I'd beelined it over to the boarding area and put my hands on my hips.

It would have been more effective if I hadn't been wearing an old pink tee that has I'm nicer than my face looks printed across the chest. Obviously a gift from Steph.

"Landry Crawford, I do not appreciate you speeding around and making my Jo-Jo fall off a horse the other day," I snapped up at him. I remembered a time when I'd been taller than him. He'd been only thirteen when I joined the family. "I hope you learned your lesson."

Landry's blue eyes had been filled with remorse, and he'd even gone so far as to take off his cowboy hat and hold it against his chest, exposing his chin-length, curling hair to the light of day.

His blue eyes had been serious and sad, and he'd nodded along while I railed on him, never speaking back in defense.

By the time I'd said my peace, I felt like he needed more comforting than Jo-Jo had.

So, I'd wrapped that man in a hug and told him to get back to work.

I never did punch him, but he'd understood the message.

After an hour of cleaning for Rae, I'd gathered my kids who were now dusty versions of themselves and headed back to the cabin, where we all got cleaned up, and now we're lying in the shade in three hammocks that magically appeared yesterday afternoon, hanging from trees on the side of our yard.

It wasn't really magic. I know it was Holden, and a flicker of those long-ago zings make me curl my toes.

It was so sweet, but a little sad that there aren't four hammocks. Does he not think he belongs here too?

Jo-Jo is reading, which is a relief after her complaining about her itchy cast to the point where I picked up a stick and let her shove it in her cast to scratch it.

Mason is madly speed-texting his friends, and I have my eyes closed with my arms folded across my stomach.

I could nap here. I need to nap here. I'm tired, as always.

It's funny, because for a long time I thought it would make no difference if Holden was out of my life.

I'd be doing all the same work and carrying the same mental loads, but at least I wouldn't be resenting him for not being where I wanted him to be.

But over the past few weeks I'm wondering if he wasn't shouldering some of the burdens that I didn't see.

He was right when he said I'd never gone without food or shelter.

And, sure, he was distant, but I'd never had a true emergency where he didn't come through.

After doing some of our Buck-It List items, I'm thinking a little differently. Hope has resurfaced.

And hope scares the bejeebers out of me by sneaking up, grabbing my hammock, and rocketing me to the sky.

I scream, Holden laughs, and the kids start giggling as the hammock rocks back and forth, nearly toppling me right out onto the ground. My heart pounds and my stomach swoops with the motion. All thoughts of a nap fly away.

"Holden Crawford," I screech, glaring at his smiling face. "You're the second Crawford man to force me to use his full name today, and that is never a good thing."

He steadies the hammock and when my head is through spinning, I shoot him a look that has him laughing again. It's a full-bellied laugh that I so rarely see, and I can't help but watch his handsome face in that moment.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the day?" I ask.

Jo-Jo climbs out of her hammock next to mine and wraps her good arm around her daddy's waist, her summer romper tugged up over her calves. "Hi, Daddy." She glows. "The lap pillow holder is so good. I can still read all the time."

Then she launches into a full-blown monologue about her and Mason's attempt at making cookies, and how she helped Uncle Landry brush the boarded horses, and how Mason talked to Uncle Walker about how to make his hair fancy.

The entire time, Holden holds her gaze and listens patiently.

He doesn't hurry her along or say he has somewhere he needs to be, and I think of the way he did that for me in the past. I used to chew that man's ear until he was praying to fall deaf, but he never complained.

He pokes a finger under his hat to scratch at his forehead, and his jean-clad legs spread a bit as he gets into a stance he can hold for a while.

Her little voice drowns out the birdsong I'd been listening to and the clacking sound of Mason's fingers hitting his phone screen, and I close my eyes, content to let Holden have this moment. I'm off duty in the ear department.

Eventually, Josi runs out of words, and rather than climb back into her hammock she asks if she could watch some TV inside.

At this point in the day I am fine with that, and I easily wave her off.

When Mason hears that TV is in play, he jumps out of his hammock, and asks if he can play his video game system.

I say yes, and he follows his little sister inside, but as he walks by he mutters, "I was not asking Walker how to make my hair fancy. "

Holden and I manage to hold our laughs until the back door closes behind him.

Then, it's just the two of us. No kids, no siblings or parents, no neighbors.

Just us. It's both familiar and awkward.

The thing about our marriage becoming stale is that we didn't fight.

We just . . . stopped. Stopped hugging, talking, or doing things together.

So now, I'm not sure what to say to the man who is still looking down at me from beneath the shade of his cowboy hat.

"Get in a hammock or go back to work, Holden. Your staring is making my skin itch," I blurt out.

He tugs the brim of his hat and surprises me with a " yes, ma'am " before yanking off his cowboy boots and getting into the hammock next to me that Josi had abandoned. I almost fall out of my own when he settles in, placing his hat on the center of his chest.

Holden is hammocking at three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. The world has reversed itself, and I'm confused.

There's not much of a breeze, but in the shade it feels pretty nice. Sometimes, depending on where the huge herd of cattle are located, I can hear them lowing in the distance, but today it's quiet. Too quiet. The birds must have flown away during Josi's elaborate description of her day.

"Did you know I wanted to start my own yoga retreat out here?" I say, words pushed out by the nerves in my chest.

"I don't remember you telling me that," he responds.

The sides of my hammock keep me from being able to make eye contact with him, and it makes it feel safer. "I didn't."

"Then how would I have known?" he teases.

"Point," I grumble.

"Tell me what you were thinking," he nudges when I fall silent.

I take a deep breath and dive in. "You know how much I love yoga, and good health, and the outdoors, and social time," I state.

He makes a noise that tells me he's listening.

"I was thinking I could combine them and build something on the property here where people could come take yoga classes to get away from the town and distractions.

I could do daily classes while the kids are in school, and maybe connect with Rae to use her B&B for occasional weekend retreats. "

I pause to see if I've lost him, and when I peek over the side of my hammock I'm met by hazel eyes peeking back.

"Keep going," he says.

I fall back and look up at the leaves above me.

"Um, there's that shed between our plot and Walker's that is, I believe, twelve by twelve, which is 144 square feet.

I'm thinking smaller classes, and something that size would accommodate me and five students.

That gives more social time because when it's finished the smaller group could visit for a while before they head out.

I could leave the double doors open unless the weather's bad, and it would provide shade and keep us off the ground, but maybe I could also create a little garden to the side where I could do outdoor yoga too. "

"I know what shed you're talking about."

"Yeah, it's that blue one. I haven't looked it over, mostly because this is just a pipe dream right now, and maybe it would need a ton of work to make it tolerable year-round, but, it's something I've thought about."

I bite at my lips and play with my fingers while I wait for him to say something.

"I wish I'd known that was something you were interested in doing," he says at long last.

"Well, you're the first person I've told. It's been a secret dream," I respond.

"How long have you been wanting to do this?"

I hate to admit it, but I do. "Probably two years or so." I feel a little ashamed that it's been that long and I've never told my husband.

His silence feels like he's thinking the same thing, but he doesn't address it in the moment. Maybe he's also feeling the fragility of this conversation and wants to keep it going without angst creeping in.

"Any other secret dreams?" he asks .

A light breeze comes through and tickles at my bare feet, caressing my legs and arms as it passes. The breeze has a lulling effect, and I fall into its charm.

"Yeah," I say. "I secretly dream that someday I won't have to clean the B&B anymore."