“You really don’t know who her father is?” Jesse asked.
“I didn’t ask, and from what I hear, Addy has never told a soul,” Sonny answered. “Not even her parents. Did your mama tell you that they moved out to the Texas Panhandle about five years ago when Addy’s grandmother died? Little town called Cactus. Strange name for a town if you ask me, but nobody did. They put their acreage up for sale, and since it bordered Sunflower Ranch, I bought the place.”
“Are you renting the house that was on the property?” Jesse wouldn’t mind living over there. He would have space of his own and yet still be on Ryan property.
“I offered it to Addy and Mia since it was her old home place, but she said she feels more comfortable living in the house with me and Pearl. That way if we need a nurse, she’s right there,” Sonny answered.
“Do you think she’s embarrassed about who the father is?” Jesse asked as he drove the last leg back to the ranch house.
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Sonny answered. “Mia is a great kid, and we love her no matter who she belongs to. I wish we had a dozen grandkids who loved the land as much as she does.”
Jesse parked as close to the yard gate as possible so that Sonny wouldn’t have to walk very far. “Need me to help you or should I go on out to the hay field?”
“I can still get up the stairs fairly well, so get on out there and help Mia with those rowdy boys.” Sonny grinned. “She’s still working on making them believe she’s boss. And thanks for listening to me, son. My door is open if and when you ever need to unload on someone.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jesse gave a brief nod and sat still until Sonny was on the porch before he put the truck in reverse and headed toward the hay field. He hummed an old tune by Travis Tritt, “Where Corn Don’t Grow,” and remembered the day that he’d told his dad he wanted to go to the Air Force and be a medic.
“I’ve taught you to mend fences, to run a ranch, how to bait a hook, and clean fish for supper,” Sonny had said. “I wanted you to be a rancher, but I won’t hold you back. If that’s your dream, then go chase it. But always remember where home is, and that there’s a ranch waiting on you if your dreams don’t work out the way you planned.”
Jesse wondered if he’d stayed on the ranch, maybe gone to college and gotten a business agriculture degree, if he would have a son by now. Maybe one that had a dream that didn’t involve ranching but would come home someday—one that could step into his shoes and run the Sunflower Ranch.
The lyrics of the song talked about a young man and his father sitting on the porch. The son asked his father if he ever wished he had a life where corn didn’t grow. The father told him that there would be dusty fields no matter where he went in life. Jesse had never believed anything more than he did as he sang the last words of the song on his way out to the hay field.
“I’ve been so many places where corn don’t grow that I can’t even remember them all,” Jesse muttered as he thought of all the places in what his team had called “the sand box.”
When he parked at the edge of the hay field and stepped out of his truck, he left his career as combat medic behind, settled his old sweat-stained Stetson on his head, and changed into a cowboy. He had come home to Sunflower Ranch and was staying no matter what the circumstances.
“You ready to work?” Mia wiped sweat from her face with the tail of her T-shirt.
“You ready to try to keep up with me?” He unsnapped his chambray shirt, took it off and tied it around his waist, pulled a pair of gloves from his hip pocket, and picked up the first bale of hay. “This is what you want me to do, isn’t it, boss?”
Mia nodded, grabbing the hay from him, and stacked it on the trailer.
The four boys who were working eyed him cautiously. “Who are you?” one of them finally asked.
“I’m Jesse Ryan,” he said. “You guys going to ask questions or earn your paychecks?”
“You called her boss.” A scrawny red-haired kid tossed a bale up onto the trailer.
“Yep, because that’s who she is on this mission, and we’d all do well to listen to her. She’s a tough one, I hear,” he said.
Chapter Four
Addy drove with one elbow stuck out the window of the truck that pulled the trailer the boys were stacking hay on. She saw Jesse coming out across the field from his truck, and her breath caught in her throat when he removed his shirt. His chest had always been broad, but sweet lord, looking at his bare skin glistening with sweat gave her a case of hot flashes that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on her arm.
She turned the radio on and upped the volume so the kids could hear. Garth Brooks was singing, “If Tomorrow Never Comes.” Right then she wished that tomorrow would never come, that she would never have to tell her daughter the truth about her father.
She glanced in the side mirror to catch Jesse staring at her reflection. When he caught her eye, he tipped his hat and went back to work. Could he be thinking the same thing that she was? The words to the song asked if the love they had known from the past was enough to last if there was no tomorrow. She and Jesse had agreed when they were only thirteen that they couldn’t ever be more than good friends, because if they were, it might ruin their best friend status—and then that last night before he went to the military, they had crossed the line. Who could know if that one crazy night would have developed into something else if she had been willing to keep in touch with him? The only thing she knew for sure was that, for her, the love they had shared that night had lasted twenty years—but it was past time to let all that go. She and Jesse were adults now, and the choices they had made had changed them.
“Mama!” Mia yelled over the top of the music on the radio.
Addy realized the truck was veering right toward a hay bale and quickly got it under control. She did her best to keep her eyes on the field in front of her, but every few minutes she stole a fast glance at Jesse. Why did he have to be so damned sexy?
When no more bales could be loaded onto the trailer, the kids hopped into the bed of the truck. Just as she started driving toward the barn, Jesse opened the passenger door and slid into the wide bench seat beside her. He twisted the cap off a bottle of water, handed it to her, and then did the same with a second one and turned it up for several long gulps.
“Thank you, but the hay haulers are supposed to be back there together.” She took a sip and set the bottle between her knees.
“I’m too old to sit back there,” Jesse said. “I don’t want those kids to hear me groaning after only two hours of hard work.”
“You are getting pretty damn old,” she said.
“Hey, now!” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “If I’m remembering right, you are four days older than I am.”
A strand of kinky brown hair had escaped her ponytail and was hanging in front of her oversized sunglasses. She tucked it behind her ear and kept her eyes on the rutted lane back to the barn. “You’ve been out on a twenty-year adventure filled with danger, and that makes you look”—she lowered her sunglasses and glanced at him—“about five years older than me.”