Instead, her leg shot out like a hammer, nailing me square in the ribs.
I stumbled back, the wind knocked out of me again, though somehow I was still standing. It took me a second to realize that was because Jake was holding me up.
Coughing, I hinged over, my hand pressed to my burning ribs. “Holy shit,” I wheezed.
“I shoulda gotten a different goat when I saw her jumpy, goddammit. I’m sorry.”
I waved a hand and hobbled toward the barn.
“Hang on. Let me make sure you’re okay.”
Painfully, I straightened up, and with immense care, Jake pressed my ribs and side. I only winced a little, spending an exorbitant amount of energy keeping my game face on.
“Well, if it were broken, you wouldn’t have been able to play it tough,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice and a bed.”
I nodded, and he wrapped an arm around me to keep me steady.
“You gotta quit getting yourself hurt, Livi.”
“Funny,” I rasped, “since I only get hurt when you’re around.”
“You’re right. My elaborate plan to get rid of you revolved around you getting trampled to death.”
“I knew it.”
“How about I clip their hooves for now. You can still milk them, though.”
“Thanks for the permission. Are you gonna sell them since I can’t live up to our deal?”
“Nah. Those kids in their pajamas are worth the trouble.”
An unbidden chuckle slipped out of him. I thought he might be tickled. Tickled pink even.
When we made it to the house, Kit intercepted, fussing over me as I flopped down on the couch. She went for ice, and Jake knelt next to me.
“I’m gonna go finish up with Sharon and get her off the stand. You all right?”
I nodded.
A little smile brushed his lips. “Don’t worry, farmgirl. You’ll get the hang of it. Let’s just hope you don’t break any ribs while you’re doing it.”
My laugh turned into a cough.
“Thank you, Jake.”
“I told you, I owed you.”
“No, not just for the stand. For giving me a chance.”
He glanced down, and I resisted the urge to slip my fingers into his dark hair.
“I should have done it from the start,” he said.
“Either way, you’re doing it now. Better late than never, right?”
“If you say so.”
His hand rested on the cushion between us, and I covered it with mine. “I say so.”
He looked up at me, our eyes locking, the connection tangible. It lived in the tingling of my hand over his, in the beat of my heart, in the air between us, in the depth of his eyes. They were open, unguarded, a window to the man behind the wall.
“I’ve got you ice and some water, honey,” Kit said as she rushed in, too busy with her burden to notice the way we flew apart or how quickly he stood.
“Here’s some ibuprofen,” she said, extending the pills. “And drink this.”
I took the water and knocked the pills back, not realizing how dry my mouth was until the cool water rushed in.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked, searching my body with the ice pack in her hand.
“I’m, uh, gonna go get the goat,” Jake said from his awkward position between me and the door.
I laughed again, but it hurt so bad, I was wincing within a breath. “You always get my goat,” I joked.
At that, the tension in him eased. That little smile was back. “Do you ever take anything serious?”
“Not if I can help it.”
With the shake of his head and the widening of his smile, he turned to go.
And for the first time, I wished he’d stayed.
16
Pew Pew
OLIVIA
I couldn’t think of a single thing I didn’t love about Fourth of July.
It was a day for barbecue and beer, swimming pools and suntans. Ice cream and popsicles and shorts with flip flops. It was sparklers and music and people you loved. It was a celebration of America’s birthday, and for better or for worse, we loved her and hoped for a brighter future together. It was a day never short on happiness, wonder, amusement, leisure. Of remembrance and hope.
And this Fourth of July might have topped them all.
I’d been busy most of the day, but thanks to the addition of a few new women to the staff, I hadn’t once felt like things weren’t being handled.
Courtney and Kendall had jumped on the chance to help me plan the event and manage it today. Together, we’d booked two dozen local vendors for the market, and we’d hired a carnival to provide games and food, placing them as far from the livestock as we could get them. The brightly colored bouncy house, two-story blowup slide, human-sized hamster balls, and bungee trampoline had been packed all day. But the real star of the show was the massive inflatable Slip ’N Slide I’d found. To watch so many adults turn into kids again, giggling and belly-flopping, was some sort of magic.
We’d also scrounged up food trucks with everything from tacos to ribs to donuts and an ice cream truck to boot. Music played all over through a speaker system we’d set up, playing classic rock and honky-tonk with the occasional country song mixed in for good measure.
Fourth of July wasn’t Fourth of July without a little Reba.
And so as dusk settled in on a very busy day, I sat on my front porch, watching all the smiling faces with a smile of my own. Jolene lay stretched out on her back next to me, gnawing on a rawhide pinned between her paws. Willie Nelson played in the distance, the sky a shade of deep violet. Naked bulbs stretched out in zigzags over the whole operation.
It’d cost a small fortune, but we’d made a moderate fortune. And what I hoped would be a new town tradition had brought the community together in a way I believed would last. I wanted our farm to be a permanent fixture in their holidays. Pumpkins in the fall, Christmas market and trees in the winter, Easter egg hunts in the spring.
If I was here that long. The way things were looking, I thought I might have a chance.
Ironically, that was in large part thanks to Jake. Before the door debacle, he’d said he’d stay out of my way when he didn’t mean it. But this time, he’d stepped aside. It helped that I included him and didn’t openly defy him—quiet defiance was still occasionally underway, though only with inconsequential things, which he deliberately looked the other way on. There was some grumbling, some money crunching, and some compromise, but he’d even gone out of his way to help me. This event was the big test.
For the first time, I saw the possibility of a happy partnership.
Movement at the edge of the crowd caught my eye, and from the throng emerged Chase Patton, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face as he strode toward me.
Warmth bloomed on my cheeks, my fingers moving to fiddle with a lock of hair. I’d seen Chase a few times, mostly at Buffalo Joe’s when I went with Presley. Being around him felt like a cardinal sin. A Patton and a Brent, friendly.
But he was impossible not to like. I probably should have assumed whatever he said was some sort of trap, but I couldn’t seem to muster up the energy.
Chase climbed the steps. “Hey,” he said.