“Is there a Miss Rachel Waters in the house?” A low, gruff voice calls out.

I jump, totally startled, and finish soaking a hand towel in cold water before I turn off the kitchen tap and turn around to see an imposing silhouette standing in the doorway, holding a handful of Queen Anne’s lace.

“Fox?” I ask, pressing the cold compress against my forehead, trying to cool down. “Is that you or am I dreaming?” I walk toward him, more than surprised to see him.

“In the flesh,” he says, handing me the flowers. “Welcome back.”

I take the flowers with a big smile and find myself enveloped in a big bear hug. Like his brothers, Fox is tall and strong with muscles like a beast. I’m practically crushed against him.

“My god, you’ve turned into the Hulk,” I tell him. “Sweaty like him, too.”

He pulls back and looks down at himself, casually dressed in cargo shorts and a thin grey shirt that’s clinging to his sticky skin. “Actually, I’ve lost about twenty pounds this month. It’s been a fucking nightmare.”

“I can imagine. I don’t know how you do what you do.”

He shrugs. The man has one of the most dangerous jobs and yet never lets it go to his head. “This is the worst year for wildfires since the fifties or something. It’s getting so bad, we have firefighters from Mexico coming up to help us. New Zealand, even. I’m lucky I even got a couple days off to come home. Just enough time to rest and eat before I’m sent out again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him shyly. Fox was always the most intimidating of his brothers and the relationship between him and Shane was strained at times for a few reasons, but I’ve always liked the guy. He can be really unpredictable and has a temper that sometimes gets the best of him, but he’s honest and intuitive and genuinely cares about people. I guess you’d have to if you’re willing to risk your life for them day in and day out.

“The moment I heard you were in town, I had to come see it with my own eyes. You’re looking good. Really good. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“At first it felt like I’d been gone for a million years, but now that I’m here…”

“It’s like you never left.”

“Exactly. Except it’s way hotter than I remember.”

I pick up the wet dish towel and press it against the back of my neck, my hair piled high on top of my head. It’s already warm to touch.

“You really need an air conditioner in this old place,” Fox says, looking around. “I’ll tell Dad it’s a worthy investment. I’m sure Shane could set it up pretty quick.”

“I’m sure he has enough to do,” I tell him, taking the flowers into the kitchen and filling up a vase with water.

Fox lingers by the door. “Have you talked to him?”

“Shane?” I place the flowers in the vase and put it on the middle of the kitchen table. Pretty.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we’ve exchanged some words,” I tell him. Other than the first day I came to Ravenswood, I actually haven’t seen him. Either I’ve gotten really good at avoiding him or he’s gotten really good at avoiding me.

“But have you really talked?”

I frown as I glance at him. “About what?”

“About what happened.” I don’t say anything and wait for him to go on. “Look, I know it was a long time ago and you’re probably over it but…I don’t think Shane is.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I doubt that. I think Shane was over it, over me, way before it happened. Besides, I know he went out with Kristen McGee.”

Fox scratches at his dark beard and grins. “I’m pretty sure he did that just to try and get under my skin. Didn’t work, of course.” He clears his throat, his features growing serious. “I don’t want to get involved with Shane’s life, nor yours, but honestly…there’s a lot more to this than you think.”

His words stab at me and I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

He opens his mouth to say something but stops and turns around, listening.

I peer around him. Speak of the devil. Shane is coming up from the house, heading toward us, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, a black t-shirt with the White Zombie logo on it, and a cowboy hat. His skin is dark and golden from long hours in the sun, his eyes trained on the ground. When he’s hanging around in town, Shane wears stuff straight out of the 90’s grunge era but when he’s on the ranch and working, he’s in full-on cowboy mode.

Fox gives me a look that says me he’ll tell me later. Or maybe that look doesn’t mean that at all.

“Hey,” Shane says as he approaches us, stopping a few feet from the porch. I look at him briefly, the swipe of dirt across his cheekbone, the trickle of sweat at his throat. My stomach feels fuzzy and light just from looking at him.

This isn’t good.

“Hey,” Fox says. “How are you?”

“Not too bad.” Shane looks over at me and nods, then looks back to Fox. “Dad told me you wanted the shoes off?”

“I think it would help.”

“Shoes off?” I ask, coming over to them.

“Horseshoes,” Fox explains to me. “It’s not so bad right now, but if it doesn’t rain again soon, it’s going to get worse, and if you’re out riding on the range and the horseshoe strikes a rock, it can create a spark. That’s all it takes sometimes to set this place ablaze.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Shane says, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. “We’ll have to go out and move some cattle later in the week but Polly and the other horses are fine without their shoes. Are you staying for dinner?”

I can’t help but pick up on the tone in Shane’s voice. Both wary and hopeful all at once.

“I need to get home and just take a load off,” Fox says. He grins at me. “Just wanted to come here first and see Rachel while I had the chance.”

“I’ll see you before you go, right?” I ask him, not wanting him to leave.

“Hopefully.”

He then turns and walks past Shane, giving him a quick punch on the shoulder as he goes. That’s pretty much the extent of their relationship.

I expect Shane to follow behind him—when we were growing up, sometimes Shane followed Fox around like a dog looking for scraps—but instead he walks up the steps and hovers on the porch, staring at me.

“How did you sleep last night?”

His expression is honest and open. Shane has a face that makes you want to tell him a million secrets. I swear somewhere in my chest a little piece of my heart is breaking off.

“Fine.” I clear my throat, twisting the towel in my hands.

“You moved in okay?”

I nod. “No problems. We had a lot of help.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there. I had to fix some of the irrigation pipes.”

“No worries.”

We both lapse into silence as Shane continues to stand there.

I think about what Del said yesterday about closure.

Face it. Face it, face him, and move on.

I gesture to the rocking chairs on the porch. “Want to come in and put your feet up? I made some lemonade earlier. You look like you could use it.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “It’s fucking hot as balls.”

That makes his mouth quirk up into a half-smile. Shane never smiled very much; he was always so serious, but when he does, it’s like the sun bursting through the clouds. When I was younger, I did whatever I could to make him smile, just because it made my heart feel like it could fly away.

“All right then,” he says, stepping onto the porch and sitting down on one of the chairs.

I turn and head to the kitchen, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. I feel hotter now than ever so I splash cold water on my face and the back of my neck before I pour us each a mason jar of lemonade.

Talk to him. Get it all out.

I step back outside and give him a small smile as I pass him his drink. I catch a whiff of him as I do, and that fuzzy feeling in my stomach intensifies. He smells like I remembered. Dry grass and sunshine and sage. He smells like the very earth itself. Home.

You can do this, I tell myself, ignoring all those stupid feelings fluttering up, the fact that my heart is starting to race.

“Thank you,” he says, and he stares at me so intensely that I feel my skin ignite, an inferno growing within me.

A memory takes over—us making love in the hayloft, him so deep inside me in body, heart, and mind that I could swear the whole barn was going to go up in flames.

Run away with me, I’d whispered to him.

I’ll go wherever your heart is, he replied.

“I know this must be quite the change,” Shane says as he sits down in the rocking chair, bringing my attention back to him, to this Shane in the present. He rests his elbows on his thighs and stares out at the view. His forearms are large, tanned and sculpted, and I know they’re strong enough to throw a two-hundred-pound calf over his shoulders. “No skyscrapers here.”

I’m so focused on his body that it takes me a moment to respond. “No. But it’s a nice change of pace.”

“How long do you think you’re going to stay?”

I shrug, hating how up in the air all of this is. “I went with my mom to the hospital the other day. The doctors are trying to get her an appointment for her surgery in either Kelowna or somewhere near Vancouver. Even though it’s, like, fucking cancer, there’s still a waiting list. And of course, I can’t even pay her way since there are no private clinics here. Still, they said it shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. Fingers crossed.”

“That’s a lot longer than I thought. Is your job okay with that? All your time off?”

I exhale, the stress from earlier creeping back. “They say they are. It’s coming out of my vacation pay now, which sucks because I never take vacations and really wanted to keep that.”

“Why don’t you take vacations?”

I give him a steady look. “Do you ever take vacations?”

“Fair enough. It’s rare that I even get an evening off. And anyway, what would I do? For me, all I need to do to have a break is go down to the river or the lake or the hot springs and sort myself out. Maybe go fishing with Maverick. Otherwise, it’s a pretty good life. I can’t ask for much more.”

I have to admit, I’m both envious and happy for him. Envious because growing up, this is all Shane wanted to do and he’s doing it and it makes him happy.

He also said he wanted to marry you one day, to have lots of babies, a voice inside me says, forever dredging up the past.

“Well,” I say, “it’s not like I wouldn’t want to jet off to Cuba for a week or spend some time traveling across Europe, but the moment I go, the moment my job becomes vulnerable. There are too many people at the agency dying to have my spot and I’ve worked too hard to let it go.”

He frowns, shaking his head, has a sip of his lemonade, licks his lips. God, those lips. They gave me my first kiss, whispered secrets, promised me the world. “That doesn’t sound like a fun career to me.”

I look away, feeling slighted. “It is a fun career. I mean, it’s exciting and challenging and there’s always something new to learn.” I don’t add that I think it’s giving me an ulcer, nor the fact that my doctor has prescribed me medication for anxiety which started flaring up again when I started this job.

“I have to say, when I heard that’s what you were doing, I was surprised. All that time together and I never once heard you mention any interest in advertising. When we were growing up, all you wanted to do was breed horses and have a garden.”

“I have a garden,” I say stubbornly, thinking of my potted plants on my balcony which are probably all dead now because I forgot to get someone to water them. “And I just kind of discovered advertising in university. I was going to do communications but advertising pulled me in.”

“Too many episodes of Mad Men?” he asks.

I smile. “Shane Nelson, I am shocked you know of a TV show. How else have you changed? Are you doing Netflix binges like the rest of the world?”

“I’ll have you know I’m not as ass backwards as you remember.”

“Oh really? Tell me one thing that proves otherwise.”

“I’ll have you know that I have my own Instagram account.”

My mouth drops open. “Oh, you do not.” I start reaching into my pocket for my phone, ready to call him on his bluff.

“Actually, it’s Polly’s,” he says. “Or it was until I realized horses can be pretty damn boring. And then it became Fletcher’s, because, you know, it’s Fletcher and that dog is a ham. And the chickens started making an appearance. Sometimes a few calves and heifers. So really, now it’s the account for all the animals here.”

I glance at my phone, not surprised that Samuel still hasn’t texted back to my I miss you, and then open Instagram. I have my own account, too, but it’s private and I rarely post. I mainly use it to follow our clients or other ad agencies to see what they’re doing.

“Look up Ravenswood Ranch,” he tells me, and I type it in.

Sure enough, there’s an account composed of artfully taken photos of the animals with “punny” captions. He posts every couple days or so, and there’s already over 1,000 followers which is a lot for someone who obviously isn’t trying very hard.

“You almost look impressed,” he says.

“The key word is almost.”

He grins at me, and for a moment I’m shocked at how damn easy our banter is. For a second, it’s like nothing has changed at all. For a second I feel like I’m home.

And for once, I don’t push the feeling away.

But as we’re staring at each other, smiling, his grin begins to falter. He slams back the rest of his lemonade and gets up. “Thanks for the drink. Cooled me right down.”

He hands the jar to me and I’m so taken aback at how abrupt he’s being that I almost don’t feel that tiny spark when his fingers brush against mine. And let’s be honest, it’s not a tiny spark but a surprising jolt of electricity.

“Where are you going?” I ask as he starts down the steps.

He raises his brows, probably as surprised as I am that I asked that, and puts on his hat. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Oh,” I say, and I’m surprised at how disappointed I feel. It’s not that I didn’t get a chance to properly talk to him, it’s just that it was so easy just now. It felt like old times and it felt good.

“See you around, Rachel,” he says, tipping his hat to me like a goddamn old-fashioned cowboy, then saunters off toward the ranch house. Naturally, my eyes are trained on his ass as he goes.

I watch until he disappears and then exhale so harshly, it’s like I’ve been holding my breath this entire time.

* * *

A few days pass and it’s funny how I actually don’t see Shane around. My mother and I have eaten dinner at Hank’s twice and Shane was off somewhere, doing something or other. I get that the man is busy, but now I know for sure he’s avoiding me.

What’s most aggravating is the fact that the less I see him, the more I want to see him. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. Maybe it’s because I’ve got it set in my mind now that I have to talk to him, I don’t know. But even so, I’m not seeking him out. I’m just not that brave, even though both Fox and Del’s words keep running through my head.

I’m bored out of my mind. I’m so used to working, to being busy every single moment of every single day that I’m having a hard time adjusting to the fact that I’ve got nothing to do. I do what I can to help my mother, but she seems to be doing okay and brushes me off every chance she gets. I still cook and clean for her but that doesn’t take up too much of my time. I’ve tried reading but I just can’t get into any books right now. My mind just wants to think about two things. And when I say think, I mean worry.

It wants to worry about work. The reception here isn’t that great and the wifi is pretty shitty, so emails take forever to send and load. Even though I’ve asked to be CCed on every single email that’s going to Pete or that Pete sends out, I’m getting less and less of them, and when I finally do get them, it’s old news. So, of course, it looks like I don’t really care about the clients when I do.

And then I want to worry about Shane. Maybe worry isn’t the right word, but more often than not, my mind keeps being drawn back to him. It’s probably because I have too much time to think.

But then the opportunity presents itself. Hank sees me moping about on the porch, all hot and irritated and bored, and asks if I wouldn’t mind lending a helping hand.

“Of course,” I say, grateful for something to do, to feel useful. I lift myself off the rocking chair, wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. “What do you need?”

“Well,” Hank says cautiously, rubbing at his moustache. “Shane’s in the stable and I know there are some repairs to be done. Maybe see if he needs some help.”

Oh, I see.

“That’s not a problem, is it?” he asks.

I paste a smile on my lips. I don’t want to get into this with Hank, not while I’m living on his property. “Not at all. I’d be glad to help.”

I head down the sloping grass to the stable, feeling my heart start to kick up with each step I take. When I get to the stable, it’s dark and empty, the familiar smell of grain, hay, and manure reaching a happy place inside of me.

I hear the sound of rushing water, so I go around the corner to where the tap is.

And my mouth drops open.

Shane is shirtless and rinsing himself off with the hose. Beside him is his buckskin mare, Polly, but I barely see her. All I can see is the river of water as it runs down the hard, tanned planes of arms, chest, and torso.

Fuck me. When Shane was younger he was in fine shape, albeit a little on the thin side. Now he’s filled out completely. He might not be a hulk or a beast like Mav or Fox, but he’s fucking fit as hell and absolutely ripped. He even has those sharp V muscles on his hips, something he’s never had before.

“Jesus,” Shane swears, finally noticing I’m there. I guess I have been standing here silently and gawking at him like an idiot.

I immediately try and play it cool, lifting my chin. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt your shower.”

He gives me a small smile and pushes his wet hair off his face.

My god, he’s so fucking gorgeous.

Everything inside me is churning, and I’m on fire, inside and out.

“Only way to cool off,” he says and gestures to Polly tied up to the post beside him, who I now realize is also wet. “Figured I’d take care of the both of us.”

“Your jeans are all wet,” I point out. How observant of me.

“They’ll dry in a second,” he says, turning the hose over in his hands. “I could take them off if you want.”

Don’t fall into the trap, Rachel. Keep your cool.

I ignore the comment. “Your dad said you probably needed my help.”

He cocks a brow. “Did he now?”

I shrug. “Yeah. And honestly, I need something to do. I’m going crazy with boredom.”

He studies my face for a moment, his golden eyes so intense that I fight the urge to look away. “That doesn’t sound like the Rachel I know.”

Good.

“The Rachel I knew,” he goes on, “could lie in a field for hours and be entertained by the clouds.”

“Yeah, well that Rachel didn’t have a job to worry about and bills to pay.”

“That Rachel was a lot more fun.”

I give him the stink-eye. “Hey, I’m still fun.”

“I doubt it,” he says, turning his back to me to pay attention to Polly.

“Hey,” I say again, really annoyed now. “Don’t pretend like you know me. You don’t. I may have changed but it doesn’t mean I’m some fussy city bitch now.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, frowning. “I would never think that of you.”

My throat feels thick as I swallow. “Oh.”

“I’m just saying…when you were young, the word bored wasn’t in your vocabulary. And believe me, you had a lot to worry about then. I know.”

And just like that, all our history hits me square in the chest. Everything I’d gone through in the past, it was something I’d only told a handful of people throughout my whole life. There was Shane. My mother. And a few shrinks and counselors. Samuel doesn’t know. None of my boyfriends did. None of my friends either.

I’m looking at one of the few people, if not the only person, who knows the deepest, darkest parts of me. The pull I feel toward him is indescribable.

He knew them all and he left you, the voice inside me says. What does that say about him? About you?

“Hey,” he says gently, taking steps toward me until he’s just a foot away. He peers down at me and I can’t help but stare up at him. He runs the tip of his finger between my brows. “No frowning. Those are the ranch rules.”

I close my eyes at his touch, trying desperately to feel grounded. One simple touch and I feel like I just might float away.

He takes his hand away but doesn’t step back. I can feel the heat coming off of him. He smells like hay and cold water, and everything inside me is slowly coming alive.

“You really want to help?” he asks, his voice bringing me back.

I nod, opening my eyes to meet his.

“You can start by laughing again.”

“Laughing?” I repeat.

“Yeah. Laughing. You have the most beautiful laugh, Rachel. Why do you think I spent so many years trying to make you laugh?”

“I thought I was always trying to make you laugh.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But I think it would do you good.”

I give him a wry look. “I’m not about to laugh on cue. Besides, I don’t have a lot to laugh about right now.”

“With your mom? I get it. But she’s going to be okay. And she’ll be even better than okay if she knows you’re okay.”

“But I’m not okay.”

There. I said it.

I’m not okay.

Shane watches me and gradually nods, looking off into the distance, squinting at the sun. “I know all of this is hard on you. It’s hard on me too.”

“How?”

He licks his lips. “I won’t pretend I know what it’s like to be in your shoes right now. I lost my mother before I even had the chance to know her.” He glances at me thoughtfully. “Or maybe that’s the same thing for you. That you never really had a chance to know your mother until now.”

I sigh, running my hand down my face. I’ve been dying to talk about this with someone, I just can’t believe that it’s Shane.

Or maybe I can believe it. Because it feels more than right.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says.

“No, no. It’s fine. I just…I don’t know where to start. When I told my boss that I was coming here, you know what he said? He said, if it’s just stage one cancer, then why do you have to go? And for a split second I almost agreed with him. Because that’s what I’ve trained myself to do. To pretend that she doesn’t exist, that we have nothing between us that counts.” I pause, cringing at how callous those thoughts were. “And then I thought, wait a minute. Why does my mother have to be on her fucking deathbed before I go? Why do people have to die or almost die before we decide we need to make things right? So that’s why I came. Because I should have come sooner and I wasn’t going to wait until later.”

“And how has it been?”

“I don’t know. She’s different. And maybe it’s because I’m different and I’m seeing her through new eyes, or maybe I’m the same and she’s changed, I don’t know. But it’s…both hopeful and scary at the same time. Hopeful because I think maybe we can move past it. Maybe I can forgive her, even if she doesn’t ask for forgiveness. And scary because, well…what if she hurts me again? What if she isn’t the mother I hope she can be? And what if I’m just…worthless all over again?”

Over those last words, I start choking up. Tears spring to my eyes, burning at the corners.

“Hey,” Shane says softly, dropping the hose and wrapping his arms around me. He does this without asking, without offering, holding me like it’s second nature.

And though I’m stiff at first because it feels like my heart is breaking for a million different reasons, it’s not long before I relax and let myself completely melt into him. It doesn’t matter that he’s wet, or that I haven’t been in his arms since before my life was turned upside down, or that he’s the one who tore it all up. None of that matters right now.

Somehow, though, I manage not to cry buckets and have a small bit of control. And it’s through that control that I realize that being in Shane’s arms is the absolute last place I need to be.

I pull back, putting space between us, and give him an awkward smile. “Sorry. I just…I guess I needed to talk.”

He’s still watching me, brimming with intensity. “Is that all you need to talk about?”

I breathe in deeply through my nose, trying to summon the courage. “No. I need to talk to you.”

He nods. “And I need to talk to you.”

I take another step back. “But honestly, I…I don’t want to get into it right now. I can’t.” Even just talking about my mom has put me in this extremely vulnerable state. I don’t want to rock the boat.

“I understand,” he says. “I just…” He runs his hand through his hair. “There are so many things I need to tell you. So many things I need you to know. And I know it probably doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me.”

Suddenly, I’m afraid. Terrified to the core. Not of him. Of what he might say and how I might feel about it.

The last thing I want is to look at Shane with new eyes. I need to hold on to the anger and bitterness because I think that’s the only thing keeping my heart safe right now. It’s the only thing keeping my current life on course.

“Maybe some other time,” I tell him. “I only wanted to see if you needed help.”

He sighs, nodding. “Of course,” he says, looking around him before picking up the hose. “Honestly, today I’ve pretty much got things under control. I’d suggest we go for a ride but since I just washed Polly, maybe we should save that for another time. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Every time I was stressed out or sad, you’d always get me on a horse,” I say quietly, smiling at the memories.

“And it always worked,” he says. “You were laughing in no time.”

Images of the two of us riding across the range fill my head, both of us double bareback, my arms wrapped around his waist, laughing into the wind as the hooves flew beneath us. We were young, we were free, we didn’t care about anything but each other.

What the fuck happened?

But before I can dwell on that, Shane is pointing the hose at me and saying, “Still, I know of another way to make you laugh.”

He squeezes the trigger and the water comes on full blast, hitting me right in the chest.

And of course, I’m in a white tank top.

“You asshole!” I yell at him, spinning around, trying to get out of the way, but he keeps that water right on me until I’m soaked to the bone and running away from him, yelling, and yes, laughing. I’m laughing my ass off.

“I told you,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.

I shake my head, water flying onto the side of the barn. “I’ll get you back for this,” I point at him, making sure he knows my threat is real.

Then I stalk away from him, all the way back to the cottage.

I’m smiling the entire time.