Page 25 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

T he morning after our kiss, I woke before dawn with Echo’s taste still on my lips and the memory of how she’d responded to me filling me with burning desire.

She’d pulled me close with a passion that spoke of feelings she couldn’t deny, then left after stopping me from saying things I knew I shouldn’t.

Yesterday, Buck had called for all hands to help with the hay baling, so I grabbed my work gloves and headed to the barn. The mid-August heat was already building, promising another scorching day, but the mindless rhythm of physical labor would keep my thoughts from spinning in circles.

Buck, Cord, and Bridger were already in the field when I arrived, working alongside the ranch hands to get the equipment ready. We fell into the rhythm without much conversation—there was work to be done, and we all knew how to do it.

The morning passed in the steady routine of cutting, raking, and rolling. It wasn’t until we were loading bales onto the truck that any of us had much time for a conversation.

“Hey, when do you head out again?” Cord asked Bridger.

“Four days.”

Cord laughed and shook his head. “Like gettin’ blood out of a stone. Where are you headin’ next?”

“Rodeo de Taos, then up to Montana for the Big Timber Weekly, followed by the stampede.”

“Taos is a well-respected event. It’s been going on for over fifty years, if I remember correctly,” I said, hefting another bale.

“This is the fifty-fifth,” Bridger confirmed.

“What are you taking?” I asked.

“Bulls and broncs. We let the Rice boys handle the stock for the timed events,” he responded.

“We decided early on that we didn’t want to get into things like tie-downs, team-roping, or steer-wrestling,” Cord said. “Although ol’ Bridger here used to rank pretty good as a bulldogger.”

“Too old for that shit now,” he muttered.

Over the next two days of haying, our conversations expanded beyond the immediate work. Bridger talked about the circuit—the challenges of keeping livestock healthy on the road, the satisfaction of watching a good bull or bronc perform, and the business side of contracts and logistics.

“We’re in the heart of the season now,” he said as we secured the last load of the day. “I’ll be on the road until October, home for a few days, then going right back out again.”

Stunned at how forthcoming he was about his schedule—I’d rarely heard the man say more than two or three words at a time—I took it as an opening to an idea I’d been considering.

“I have a ranch outside Taos. Sangre Vista. If you need a place for your operation to stay at during the event, you’re welcome to use it. ”

Bridger’s brow rose. “That’s generous, but we couldn’t impose?—”

“It’s not an imposition. I’ve got guest cabins, good pastures—everything you’d need.”

He considered this, watching my reaction. “What would that run?”

“Nothing. One stockman helping another.”

“I don’t take charity.”

“It’s not charity. The place is just sitting there otherwise, and good livestock deserves proper care.”

He nodded slowly. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be putting you out.”

“I’m sure.”

That evening, I joined Flynn and the others in the ranch’s office to give them feedback on how I thought their guest ranch operation was going, along with suggestions for the next step to grow if they were ready. The discussion eventually turned to my travel schedule.

“I’ll need to head back to New Mexico for a week or two,” I said. “Some business to handle at Sangre Vista, and I’ve offered to let Bridger and his crew stay there during the Taos rodeo.”

“You’re leaving?” Flynn asked.

The vulnerability in her words reminded me how much our family connection meant to her. “Just temporarily. I promise I’ll be back.”

“I know, but…” She hesitated.

“Hey, you’ve got all of us, sis,” said Cord, rubbing her shoulder. “Not to mention Irish.”

She shot him a look. “I haven’t forgotten any of you, especially my husband. It’s just that…” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she looked away.

I stood, offered my hand, and led her from the office. Once we were out of earshot, I motioned to a hay bale, and we both took a seat. “What’s this about, Flynn?”

“Nothing. I’m just being silly.”

“Look at me.” I waited several seconds until she did, then spoke again.

“You have become like a daughter to me, and your kids, like grandchildren. You have no idea how important you and the rest of your family are to me. I have no intention of giving that up. And when you’re sick of me being around all the time, it’ll be too late. You’re never getting rid of me.”

She smiled and wiped at her tears. “Grandchildren, huh? Maybe they should start calling you that, instead of uncle.”

I put my hand on my heart. “I would love that,” I said, my voice clogged with emotion.

“Pretty soon, there will be four calling you that, instead of three.” Flynn rested her hand on her stomach. “Or five if I have twins again.”

“Really? That’s wonderful.” I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. “You are such a good mother, Flynn.”

“Am I?”

Her vulnerability and emotional responses meant more to me now that I knew she was pregnant. “Yes, you are warm, loving, nurturing, and gentle. It all shows in your children’s happiness. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

Her eyes filled with tears again that she quickly brushed away. “So what about you?”

“I fear my child-rearing years are over,” I said, patting my stomach like she had.

Flynn nudged me. “You’re hysterical. But be serious for a minute. What about you and Echo?”

I sighed. “It is very complicated.”

“That kiss wasn’t.”

“Spying again?”

“Maybe, but quit trying to change the subject. You should invite her to Sangre Vista.”

I hadn’t seen the suggestion coming and wasn’t sure what to say.

“Think about it. She hardly gets to see Bridger when he’s on the road. She can see your ranch and spend time with her son.”

Cord approached from the other room. “She’s got a point. Sometimes, a change of scenery helps people see things differently.”

Again, I was stunned. Were all of the Wheaton siblings aware of my feelings for Echo?

“I don’t know,” I said. “She’s?—”

“The worst she can say is no,” Flynn pressed.

An hour later, sitting on my cabin’s porch, I seriously considered Flynn’s suggestion. Sangre Vista had always been my sanctuary, the place where I could be myself even in the face of my obligations to Patricia’s family. If Echo and I were going to find our way forward, maybe that’s what we needed.

I pulled out my phone and dialed before I could second-guess myself.

“Hello?”

“Echo, it’s JW. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“No, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“I’m helping out at the Goat tonight—they’re short-staffed for the weekend rush. I was wondering if you might want to stop by.”

Silence stretched between us. “I don’t know...”

“No pressure.”

A longer silence. “I might. No promises.”

“Of course. Hope to see you.”

I was behind the bar when Echo walked through the door. She was wearing dark jeans and a pearl-snap shirt that brought out her coloring as much as her outfit hugged her curves. My hands fumbled with the glass I was drying when I thought about how it used to feel to have her naked body next to mine.

For the next hour, I stole glances in her direction while I mixed drinks and poured beer.

Victor was at the end of the bar closest to where she sat, but I could eavesdrop and watch how her face lit up when he told her about Luna’s upcoming school play—watching her in this space where we’d first fallen in love stirred memories I thought I’d buried.

During a brief lull, I rounded the bar and walked down to the end where she sat talking to Keltie, who’d given her dad a break. “Can I steal you away for a minute?”

Echo looked hesitant at first but followed me out to the restaurant’s small patio.

“Nice evening,” I said, gesturing toward the butte silhouetted against the night sky.

“It is.” She wrapped her arms around herself against the chill. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

I took a breath, deciding to be direct. “Bridger’s coming to stay at my ranch next week during the Taos rodeo. I was wondering if you’d like to come visit for a few days.”

Her eyes flared. “Visit your ranch?”

“Yes.” I thought about suggesting it would be good to get away from the memories here and maybe get a fresh start, but decided it would be better not to push.

“That’s very kind, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The rejection stung, but I steeled my reaction. “I understand. Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe.”

We returned inside, and Echo rejoined Keltie and Victor while I went back to my duties. As the evening wound down and the last customers filtered out, I noticed Echo lingering at the bar, in no hurry to leave.

“Another drink?” I asked as I wiped down glasses.

“No, thank you.” She traced patterns on the bar’s wooden surface. “JW?”

“Yeah?”

“About your invitation…” Her eyes bored into mine. “I’ve changed my mind.”

I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. “Really?”

“Yes. If the offer’s still open.”

“Of course it is. I was planning on leaving tomorrow afternoon, but?—”

“I’ll be ready. I mean, if it’s okay if I travel with you.”

I wanted to jump with joy, kick my heels together, and punch my fist in the air. Instead, I said, “That would be very nice.”

The drive to Sangre Vista took most of the next day, winding through mountain passes and high desert valleys that gradually transformed from Colorado’s familiar peaks to New Mexico’s broader vistas.

Echo and I discussed her current duties, my plans for expanding the ranch operations, books we’d been reading, places we wanted to travel—exchanges that felt natural despite the years between us.

“Tell me about Sangre Vista,” she said as we crossed the state line and the landscape opened into wider valleys dotted with sagebrush and juniper.