Page 4 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

I'm ticked that they're ticked, but I can't act like I am because someone has to be the adult around here, and that lot has fallen squarely on my shoulders.

It's safe to say that for the past few days we've all been on edge and short with one another.

The kids are mad that Holden is living in the trailer, I'm mad that I had to tell them by myself, and Holden – actually, I don't care how he's feeling right now.

In fact, I hope the trailer has an infestation of wasps.

Picturing his body covered in stings is satisfying regardless of the fact that it's beneath me.

I didn't bother with sunscreen today, and I already regret it.

The summer sun beats down hot in the higher elevations of the mountains we call home.

I'm wearing a visor, which will thankfully protect my face, but my neck, ears, and shoulders will be pink this afternoon.

My skin may be naturally tan, but I do my best to protect it, so it's still maiden territory for the sun's rays.

I start to worry about it, but then a mopey moment hits and I figure why care?

Nothing else is going right. May as well slowly turn into the woman with alligator skin.

"Len, you're already turning red," Steph says, echoing my thoughts, her walking shoes crunching across some pebbles as she presses a fingertip to my skin. "Honestly, you need to take better care of yourself."

I shoot her a look, and she cackles. Steph doesn't giggle or chuckle or laugh – she cackles from some deep place inside of her.

She has my same dark, wavy hair and olive complexion, the same deep-brown eyes, and the same wide smile.

At only eighteen months apart in age, we're often mistaken for twins, which we don't mind.

Steph is taller than my five-foot-six frame, and where I'm lean, she's muscled – the result of an obsession with working out that hit in our late teens in which I chose yoga and running while Steph went all out in weight lifting and boxing.

I'd bet on her in a fight .

"Why?" I whine. "I'm a separated, thirty-two year-old mom of two kids. I should let myself go."

Steph slaps my back. "Not if you want Holden to feel the pain of losing you. Think of yourself as a beautiful buccaneer – a pirate of hearts, plundering all over town."

I groan and walk faster, needing to sweat out all these emotions before I'm back on parenting duty. "The very last thing I want to do is parade around town stealing hearts," I reply. "In fact, it would be best if no one in town knew what was happening between us."

Steph keeps up, her breathing growing heavier. Weight lifting doesn't require much speed walking. "If you can keep this separation a secret I will personally cover myself in honey and let Bob McGraw lick my arms like he's always asking to do."

I have to stop walking when I'm overcome with a wave of laughter.

Bob McGraw is in his fifties and has been sniffing after Steph since she turned eighteen.

At thirty-three, she's over it, but the man is nothing if not persistent.

I don't doubt he'd happily lick honey off her arms and thank her for the privilege.

The image makes me forget my worries for a moment as I work to catch my breath.

"Oh my gosh," I huff, wiping the tears from my eyes. "You should have accepted one of his marriage proposals. He's been incredibly loyal. I think you're the only woman he's noticed for the past twenty years."

"That type of loyalty is not what I'm after."

"Well, I want to take the bet. My separation stays secret, you go out with Bob."

Steph cackles again. "You'll lose, sis. I know Mace and Jo-Jo aren't going to say anything because they're sad and won't want to talk about it. And you can count on me to keep my mouth shut. But what about Mom and Dad? Or the Crawfords?"

I wrinkle my nose at the mention of our parents who moved away from northeastern Utah to warmer climates ten years ago. "I'm not telling our parents."

Steph raises her eyebrows. "Bold choice."

"Well, they don't visit often, and when we do talk on the phone Holden is usually working anyhow.

To them it'll be business as usual when there's no sign of him.

" She doesn't bother asking about our oldest sister, Tina, and that's because she's so far removed from our lives she might not know Josi exists.

"Besides," I admit in undertones, "they weren't happy we got married in the first place, and I don't need an I told you so from them. "

Let's be honest, no one was very excited when only one year out of high school Holden and I announced we'd be getting hitched, and then produced Mason a scant ten months later.

The Crawfords, however, are a different story than my folks.

Holden's family members are our direct neighbors.

The ranch has been in the Crawford family for three generations – four if Mason decides to keep it going – and as Holden and his brothers each came of age, their dad, Abe, gave them a one-acre plot to build a house on.

When the youngest, Landry, built his house, their mama, Rae turned the sprawling family homestead into an occasional B&B.

Meaning, when she's in the mood to take a reservation, she does.

The Crawfords are all wrapped up in one another. They work the ranch together, and see each other daily. Plus, I help Rae with the housekeeping duties for her B&B guests. My kids are often there too. There is zero possible way they won't know trouble is afoot .

"You know what?" I say, firming my posture and pinching my lips, "Holden can tell his parents and brothers. I'm going to be as silent as a church mouse about it. His family, his news."

"He did make you tell the kids all by yourself," Steph reminds me. "Poor pumpkin. I'm surprised you didn't eat an entire quart of ice cream by yourself that night."

"Who says I didn't?" I smirk.