Page 5

A few days after my conversation with Julie, Caleb and I are in the only taxi in Bluebell on our way to Silver Saddle Ranch. It’s early June, and summer is in full swing around here, with a bright blue sky and fields of gold and green stretching in every direction.

“Jensen Harding. A face I never thought I’d see in these parts again,” Earl remarks from the front seat.

“I heard you made a fortune selling gadgets to protect rich folks’ homes.

Don’t reckon we have much use for that kinda thing around here.

” He motions to the surrounding countryside, the car veering off the road when he does.

My fingers curl around the door handle. “It’s not that kind of security,” I mutter.

Heath had to bail on airport pickup duty because a calf arrived ahead of schedule, and the vet couldn’t get there fast enough. I called Julie, but she was tied up at the school, leaving me with one option—Earl Barnard.

He’s been Bluebell’s taxi driver for the past forty years and often drives guests to Silver Saddle Ranch, since it’s the only tourist destination in town.

The trouble is he drives like he’s racing a tornado and also has advanced cataracts in his left eye.

Heath told me that the town council decided to look the other way last year when he ran over the mayor’s prized rose bushes.

Despite his tendency to confuse the gas pedal with the brake, he’s a fixture in Bluebell.

Growing up, Julie’s marigolds at the ranch entrance never made it through the season with Earl’s station wagon making a habit of turning them into mulch every spring. Seems some things never change.

“You and the tater tot staying at the ranch house?” Earl asks, glancing over his shoulder at us crammed in the back seat.

“No. The cottage.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Well, now, I didn’t see that coming. You and Briar a couple?”

“Nope,” I say, trying to end the conversation so Earl will focus on the road and not town gossip.

“That won’t stop the ladies at the diner from talkin’ about this for weeks,” he says, wagging his finger.

“I have no doubt,” I mutter under my breath.

If Bluebell’s residents love one thing, it’s a good rumor.

And the kid from the trailer park, coming back after fourteen years with a five-year-old son, and moving in with his best friend’s little sister?

The whole town will buzz over coffee and lemon meringue pie at the Prickly Pear Diner for at least a week.

Earl swerves sharply, nearly taking out a mailbox. I instinctively wrap an arm around Caleb, bracing him against me until the car straightens out. When I pull back, I glance down to find his gaze fixed out the window, unfazed by the abrupt movement.

“By golly, them mailboxes must be gettin’ closer to the road these days.” Earl chuckles, shaking his head .

“It’s definitely the mailboxes moving and not your steering,” I deadpan under my breath.

He swivels his head. “What’d you say, city slicker? My hearing ain’t as good as it used to be.”

“Said you’ve got catlike reflexes. I’m impressed.” No harm in letting him think I mean it.

Earl grins. “All those years of dodging potholes and raccoons have paid off.”

“Looks that way,” I say, tightening my grip around Caleb.

I sigh in relief as we pass the welcome sign to the ranch. It’s the only place that’s ever felt like home. As soon as the taxi pulls up to the cottage, I help Caleb out before grabbing his booster seat.

Earl’s already unloading our luggage and stacking it on the porch. “Remember, cash only,” he reminds me.

It figures he’s holding on to the old-school way of doing things. I take out a hundred-dollar bill and hand it to him when he finishes with the bags.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say.

Earl stuffs the bill into his front pocket, not bothering to ask if I want change.

“Mighty kind of you, city slicker.” He takes out a crumpled business card and hands it to me. “Call me the next time you need a lift, you hear?”

“Sure.” I slip the card into my pocket.

Right after I get a root canal and volunteer for a wasp nest removal with my bare hands.

Thank god Heath’s loaning me one of his trucks for the summer so I don’t have to ride with Earl again. His heart is in the right place, but the same can’t be said for his lane position.

I watch him hop into the driver seat, his car rattling when he turns it on. As he drives away, he lives up to his reputation, clipping a fence post on his way out.

It’s a miracle we made it here in one piece .

Caleb and I are left alone on the front porch.

He stands behind me, holding his dinosaur to his chest as he takes in his surroundings.

Silver Saddle Ranch is a world away from the suburbs of Chicago and my penthouse overlooking Central Park.

I take a deep breath, hoping I did the right thing by bringing him here.

Taking a step forward, I knock on the door, frowning when there’s no answer.

I check my watch, noting it’s a quarter past one.

Heath said Briar spends her mornings handling cabin maintenance, and I wonder if she’s behind schedule today.

After knocking again, I jiggle the knob and find it’s unlocked.

I stick my head inside. “Hello? Anyone home?” I’m only met with silence.

I glance down at Caleb with a smile. “Why don’t we go inside and look around?”

He stares at me, blinking slowly, his expression unreadable. I exhale and hold the door open, motioning for him to follow me into the house before closing it behind us.

Becoming a father overnight has been a shock to the system. The constant disconnect with Caleb has me questioning if I’m failing him as a dad. But when I look at him, I remember I’m all he has, and giving up isn’t an option.

When we step inside, I take a look around. The space looks like a snapshot of the nineties. Pastel wallpaper lines the entryway walls, and vinyl tiles cover the floor. There’s even popcorn texture on the ceiling.

I glance into the living room off to the right, which is similarly styled. The walls are a faded beige, and a worn floral-patterned couch is positioned in front of a circular coffee table. A built-in curio cabinet against the far wall displays a mismatched collection of teacups.

The place hasn’t changed one bit since the last time I saw it.

Julie and Samuel lived here briefly after they got married but quickly outgrew it.

Since then, several ranch hands lived here until a few years ago, when Briar moved in.

Julie told me Briar has plans to fix it up, but it doesn’t look like she’s made much progress.

When I enter the kitchen, the linoleum floor creaks and the scent of pancakes and cinnamon lingers.

The faded yellow wallpaper is covered with decorative plaques with sayings like “Farm Fresh Eggs” and “Rise and Shine.” A bulky white oven with worn dials sits against the far wall, and an ancient fridge leans slightly to one side, propped up by a folded piece of cardboard under one foot.

A rooster-shaped clock ticks away on the wall, its tail feathers forming the pendulum.

I’m definitely not in New York anymore.

Despite the downstairs being outdated, it’s spotless.

No dishes are in the sink, the counters have been wiped down, and the floors are impressively clean, which is remarkable, considering we’re on a ranch, and dust has a habit of tracking into the house.

I spent enough time at the Halsteads’ ranch house to learn that the hard way.

Caleb and I are still in the kitchen when I hear the front door open, followed by hurried footsteps in our direction. Briar rounds the corner, panting as if she sprinted the whole way. She rushes past us to the sink, her back turned, so I don’t get a good look at her.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,” she says over her shoulder, her voice slightly muffled.

“One of the cabins had a clogged drain, and of course, it had to be the one with a couple who had nothing better to do than supervise. The husband, Carl, must’ve asked a dozen times if I knew what I was doing—bold of him, considering it was his brilliant idea to pour baking soda and vinegar down the pipes.

” She dries her hands on a towel covered in cartoon chickens.

“I wasn’t expecting you to…” I trail off when Briar turns around, and I finally get a good look at her.

The last time I saw her, she was a freckle-faced ten-year-old with a wild mess of curls who was curious about how everything worked.

She followed Julie around like a shadow, determined to prove she could do anything the ranch hands could, even if that meant hauling hay bales half her size and wearing her blisters like a badge of honor.

Fourteen years later, she’s nearly unrecognizable. The woman before me has long, brown hair tied back into a ponytail, a few loose tendrils framing her face. Her tanned skin has a natural glow from countless hours spent under the sun, and her brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as they meet mine.

Damn, she’s stunning.

Heath talks about her often but conveniently left out the part where she’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Why couldn’t I be sharing a house for the summer with someone less distracting—like a retired librarian or a male ranch hand—instead of a woman who looks like she stepped out of a country music video and right into the chaos that is my life?

“Earth to Jensen.” Briar waves a hand in front of my face, her brow creased with worry.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“How was your flight?”

“All right.” I glance down at Caleb, who’s quiet and withdrawn. “It’s been a long day for us both.”

She crouches to Caleb’s level, offering him a warm smile. “Hey, Caleb, I’m Briar. It’s great to meet you.” She gestures to the stuffed dinosaur in his arms. “Looks like you’ve got a loyal friend there. Is it an Ankylosaurus?”

I’m about to explain that he won’t respond when he gives her a small nod. It catches me off guard since he hasn’t had this response with anyone else in the past week. Then again, no one else has guessed what kind of dinosaur it is—myself included.

“That’s really cool. Your stuffie looks like a strong and brave protector.

You two make a great team.” She reaches out to ruffle the top of the dinosaur’s head, and I swear Caleb’s lips twitch to a hint of a smile.

“Since you’re a fan of dinos, I think you’ll like your new room.

Want to see it?” Briar extends her hand toward him.

Caleb’s whole face seems to brighten as he tentatively places his hand in hers.

This is the most emotion he’s shown since I’ve met him.

A wave of jealousy hits me, knowing that Briar managed to get this kind of response from him within the first five minutes.

It’s an irrational thought, and I should feel relieved that he’s warming up to her so quickly, especially since we’ll be living together for the summer.

Still, it serves as yet another reminder that I’m falling short as his dad, and I wonder if he’ll ever look at me with that same kind of light in his eyes.