Second Chance Ranch: a Hope Springs novel (Entangled Bliss) (7 page)

That’s it. Cory and I gotta get out more. I need to be around women who aren’t Sadie.
Maybe he’d even remind himself how easy picking one up could be. Then he’d get this stir-crazy feeling out of his system and be able to focus again.

The fire wasn’t started yet, and Sadie was in short sleeves, standing next to the pit and rubbing her arms. Even with the fire, the temperature at night usually dropped enough to need a coat. Not to mention Sadie had always run colder than he did, and even with his long-sleeved flannel and light jacket on, he was still plenty cool.

What’s she doing running around without a jacket?

She shivered, hugging her arms tighter around her. Maybe if she had an ounce of body fat, she wouldn’t be on the verge of hypothermia.

“Mark, Eli, and Brady, go get some wood. Addison, grab the matches from Mrs. Dixon, will you?” Royce shook off his jacket and tossed it at Sadie. It hit her in the face before she caught it in her arms.
Oops.

Her mouth dropped open, and he was sure he was about to get it, but then she just slipped into the too-big jacket. Her big green eyes were on him, and he was starting to feel that desire again, twisting at his gut, making him want to reach out and wrap his arms around her so she’d be even warmer.

He clenched his jaw, hating that she cut so easily through the defenses he’d worked to build. “Did you forget how to make a fire? You could’ve gotten to work on that instead of jumping around to keep yourself warm.”

“I thought maybe it was part of your teaching experience and I didn’t want to mess it up. But here, take your damn coat back and I’ll build the stupid-ass fire,” she said, starting to undo the zipper she’d just finished closing.

“You owe money to the swear jar,” Addison said as she approached.

Royce took a large step forward and put his hands on Sadie’s shoulders to keep her from pulling her arms out of the sleeves. “I’m sorry, okay? Just keep the jacket on.” He didn’t know why he got so irritated every time he started feeling soft toward her. Maybe it was his defense mechanism kicking in, but he was struggling to find the right balance, too far to the friendly side one minute, and then way too far the other the next. He needed to get it better under control before he ruined the progress they’d made.

He tilted his head toward Addison. “She is right about the swear jar, though—two in one sentence, even. That’s a pretty heavy fine. Why don’t you help me get the branches for roasting and we’ll consider you paid up.”

Sadie narrowed her eyes at him, then she tugged the jacket closed and marched toward the bushes where it was easiest to find good hot-dog-roasting sticks.

He scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with something to smooth it over. “So, what do you think about the program now that you’ve been around it for a couple weeks?”

“I don’t know what I expected, but I’m surprised. I mean, there’s only one of them who gets under my skin, and you guys give them more work than I expected, yet more freedom, too, if that makes sense.”

“It’s a work/reward system that my mom and dad perfected over the years. Like tonight we’ll give them all knives so they can carve their own sticks. We could easily buy those fancy metal ones—my mom has some, in fact. But this way, it keeps them busy and shows them they’ve earned our trust. Over all the years, we’ve only had a handful of kids who were on a weapons ban, where they couldn’t be trusted with anything like a pitchfork, shovel, or tiny pocketknife.” He stepped over a large rock. “Which one gets under your skin? Eli?” She sure hid it well, and he was a little disappointed. He thought they’d sort of bonded.

“No, Eli’s awesome! That kid’s going to be a famous artist someday, mark my words. That Addison chick hates me, and I”—she lowered her voice—“I find it hard to like her. Guess that means I fail at working the camp side of things.”

“Are you kidding me? All of us have had kids we can’t stand, even my mom, although she’s the best at hiding it. I was having so much trouble with Eli, but he’s changed since you started working here.” Royce noticed that she expected him to be famous—that was the only way success was achieved with her, apparently. “Addison’s got a big attitude, but she’s funny, and she really pulls the rest of them together.”

“I guess that’s why it’s good to have several people working with them. Everyone connects to someone different and even to different aspects of the work. I love that it’s part of my job description to take the time to talk with and listen to someone who needs it, by the way—every other job I’ve had, my chattiness has gotten me into trouble. I hate rules for when people are allowed to talk and for how long.”

Oh, he remembered, and he couldn’t help smiling. Chattiness was an understatement—it was more like she was compelled to talk. Back in high school, she and Quinn were constantly assigned to sit far apart in classes because they couldn’t be quiet when they were together, and long road trips to rodeos had been filled with discussions about whatever topic popped into her head.

A cool breeze floated over them, swirling strands of Sadie’s hair around her face. “What I’m saying is, it’s a good thing, what you’re doing here. I saw it when I came over back in high school, of course, I just didn’t realize how intensive and challenging it was.”

Yeah, she knew how to talk, but she also knew how to genuinely listen. So he said the thing he constantly thought but always held in. “I’m not as good at it as my dad was. And no matter how hard I try, I never will be. I’m just trying not to completely screw up his legacy.”

Sadie stopped and turned to face him. “You’re good at it, Royce. Way better than you give yourself credit for.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. His eyes met hers and he swallowed, too aware of the freckles across the bridge of her nose and the way his skin hummed under her touch. “You’re
not
screwing it up. In fact, to put it in cowboy terms the way your dad or my grandpa would”—she cleared her throat—“you’re doin’ a damn fine job.” He assumed the low, half-growly way she said it was her impression of a dude. Who knew that a mock guy voice could sound so cute? She smirked, one eyebrow arching higher than the other. “Take that, swear jar!”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, and the dull ache that’d risen up faded away. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that.

She dropped her hand, and his arm suddenly felt cold and empty.

Focus, Dixon. Don’t even think about kissing her.
He couldn’t stop staring at her lips now, though. Remembering the way she used to sigh when he kissed her. He quickly stepped past her, glad they were so close to the bushes.

“I’ve got an extra knife you can—”

“Give me some credit,” she said, pulling out a pocketknife and grabbing a branch. “I’m at least half prepared for tonight.” For a little while, they gathered sticks in silence. And whenever she turned around or bent over, he took advantage of the opportunity to check out her butt.

Like he said before, old habits died hard.

…

Sadie glanced at Royce’s backside as she followed him to the now-glowing fire, a bundle of sticks in her hand. Earlier, when he’d thrown the coat in her face, he’d seemed mad at her, his expression and gruff words at odds with the fact that he’d noticed she was cold. While she was grateful for the warmth, she wasn’t going to just let him be a jerk to her. But when she’d been about to throw the coat back at him and stomp away, he’d softened again. Then things were easy, the way they used to be, and she swore they’d almost had a moment. She wasn’t sure if it was an I-don’t-completely-hate-you moment or something more.

A glimmer of hope rose up. Maybe they could be friends. After all, she wasn’t sure how long she was going to stay in Hope Springs, and she could really use a friend as she figured out her messy life and got a game plan for the next step to get it back on the right track.

Royce handed out the sticks to the kids, and she did the same with the ones she’d gathered. When they met in the middle, he actually smiled at her.
Friends who kiss might be good.

“Everyone grab a knife and get the end sharpened so you can cook your hot dog. And yes, Addison,” Royce said, glancing at the girl, “I remembered your veggie dogs, even though I had to drive to the next town over to get them.”

The girl beamed at him, and Sadie was sure her expression matched. How could Royce think he wasn’t good at this? She settled on a log next to Cory, who was in a foldout chair, sliding a hot dog onto the end of an already sharpened stick.

“How often do you guys do this?” she asked.

“We usually work the kids pretty hard for the first three weeks. That seems to be the perfect amount of time for them to know what we expect and to learn most of what they need to know. Then we find we can ease back a little without losing control. If they work hard all week, we have these on Friday nights, and give them Saturday and Sunday off, all except for cooking. If one of them gets feisty or troublesome, they work while everyone else plays. It’s good motivation.”

Sadie started carving the end of her stick, watching the pale wood shavings curl away and drift to the ground, while the scent of smoke and meat filled the air. “I’m glad Royce has you to help him out.” She bit her lip, thinking she shouldn’t meddle, but since when did that stop her? “He puts on a tough front, but how’s he really doing with running everything by himself and dealing with his dad’s death?”

Cory glanced sideways at her. “Sadie, I’ve always liked you, and we’re still cool. But I’m not gettin’ in the middle of you two. You want to know, you ask him.”

“You know he won’t tell me.” He’d hinted at struggling with the camp when they’d been gathering branches, but he’d shut it down pretty quickly, walking off before she could dig any deeper. “Can’t I worry about a friend?”

One of Cory’s eyebrows arched, disappearing under the brim of his hat. “A friend?”

Sadie’s shoulders sagged. “Fine. A work colleague.”

“We both know it’s more than either of those things. He’s doing okay, and that’s all I’m sayin’. I’m not a chick and this ain’t no damn slumber party.”

Sadie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. What was it with guys and their inability to admit that they actually had emotions?

Royce came over and sat next to her on the log. She’d assumed he would go back to keeping his distance the rest of the night. Now here he was, sitting so close she could reach out and touch him. She became acutely aware of his knee resting against hers, and how he smelled like woods and hay and a hint of campfire. She watched the firelight dance on the planes of his face. He pushed up his sleeves, and then her attention was on the way the muscles in his forearms moved as he whittled the end of his branch into a point.

When he finished, he handed her a hot dog. She slid it onto her stick and leaned forward, putting the end over the flames. Everyone all around them was doing the same thing, multiple conversations going on.

The log rocked as Royce leaned forward. Sadie wobbled and his arm came around her waist. “Careful,” he said, his lips so close to her ear that goose bumps broke out across her skin. Then she turned her head and looked into his brown, brown eyes.

He dropped his arm and moved his focus to his roasting hot dog. Then he turned to Cory and they started talking about whether or not the hay in the back field was ready to rake. It was like high school, only she, Royce, and Cory would’ve been around a bonfire somewhere else, drinking cheap beer and discussing the last or next rodeo.

And Royce’s hand would be clamped onto her thigh, and she’d have her head on his shoulder.

“Now what do we do?” Addison asked.

“Eat more. Relax. Look at the stars. Take your pick.” Royce glanced at Cory. “Once Cory here’s done eating, he’ll pull out the guitar.”

“And maybe Sadie can sing for us,” Cory said.

Sadie almost choked on her food. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and said, “No thanks.” The memory of the last time she was onstage played through her mind. Earlier that afternoon, she’d learned her recording dreams had fallen through once again, and while she’d wanted to cancel the gig, she told herself the show must go on. But then she’d gone to sing a song she’d sung countless times, only for her voice to crack. She’d struggled to fix it but missed the next few notes as well. Every doubt she’d ever had rose up as sorrow and the overwhelming sense of rejection clawed at her, and then she’d done something she’d sworn she’d never do: she left the stage midsong. By the time she’d gotten into her car and driven away, the tears were pouring down her face.

“I wanna hear you sing,” Eli said, leaning forward.

She shot him a
shut-it
look. He was supposed to be on her side.

“I showed you my art. I think it’s only fair.”

Someone started chanting, “Sing, sing,” and it caught on like wildfire. Cory shoved the remaining half of his hot dog in his mouth, got out of his seat, and reappeared with his guitar a minute or so later.

Panic rose up, sharp enough it stung her lungs. Singing to a crowd of jaded teens who probably hated country music hardly seemed like a good way to get her confidence back. Eli raised his voice over the chanting. “What, you too cool for this stuff?” he asked, echoing the words she’d said to him the first day they met.

I’m stuck now
, she thought, slowly standing so her diaphragm wouldn’t be all squished up and she’d have a better shot at getting the best sound possible. “Okay. One song.”

It’s just a small group. No mic, no crowd expecting a brilliant performance.

Along with the apprehension clenching Sadie’s stomach, a tingle of excitement mixed in. Somewhere along the way, singing had become a source of stress. Out here, just her and Cory’s guitar—well, it was the type of singing she loved.

With her panic easing the tiniest bit, she was at least able to get a little air back in her lungs.

Cory played a couple chords. “Let me guess, you want me to play ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk.’”

Sadie shot Cory a dirty look and his grin widened. Like she’d really want to sing an offensive song about girls’ butts. “Funny,” she said, and despite her nerves, she found herself smiling. “But
so
not gonna happen.”