“I better get to work. Stay in touch, okay?”
“Alright. Have a good day.”
As we end our conversation, I catch the time on my screen and see that Ryland is running late today. I check the calendar a second time to make sure it’s Thursday. Ryland made sure to mark the dates that he’ll be working at the house before he left the other day. I appreciated the heads up, knowing I need tomentally prepare my heart to be around him again. My original plan was to try and avoid him at all costs while I’m in Covewood, not wanting to stir up old feelings, but it seems like God has other plans.
I make my way to the counter and smile at the basket Ryland put together for me. He has no idea how much the kind gesture would mean to me. Olivia told me a little bit about how the town has grown over the years—sometimes as a way to try to persuade me to venture past the farm whenever I came to visit Mamaw and Papaw. Spoiler alert: it never worked. My reasons for avoiding the town are starting to feel really stupid the longer I stay in Covewood.
The sound of tires on the gravel catches my attention and I peek out the window to see Ryland’s truck pull into the driveway followed by a red truck. I look down at my pajamas and pat the rat’s nest on top of my head. Terror washes through me like a cold shower, and I rush to my bedroom.
I’m tossing clothes into the air but have no luck finding anything quick to change into. I touch something soft, and the floral pattern catches my attention. It’s one of my Mamaw’s dresses I brought into my room last night. I just wanted a piece of her with me as I fell asleep, and now I’m tugging the dress over my head without second-guessing. I run my fingers through my hair as I rush towards the living room and slip into my boots by the front door just as I hear the sound of footsteps on the front porch.
I swing open the door, and Ryland halts in place. He trimmed his beard, which was looking a bit wild before, but is now closer to his face, enhancing his incredible jawline. I can see a hint of his dimples that used to drive me crazy and feel the familiar itch to reach out and brush my thumb against the indention in his skin.
He also had his hair cut. It’s shorter on the sides but still long enough on top that he can run his fingersthrough it to move the strands from his eyes. As if Ryland Quinn could get any more attractive, he shows up on my doorstep looking like a lumberjack hero from a romance novel.
Be still, my heart. I’m not prepared for this.
His mouth falls open, just the tiniest bit, but I notice. His eyes skim down my bare face until they land on my Mamaw’s dress. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious and look down to make sure I put the dress on the right way.
“Hey,” he says, the words catching in his throat.
I stare at his lips, the same way I used to as a teenager, and it’s like the past and present are mixing together, creating a recipe of their own. It’s such a surreal feeling, and it takes me a moment to come back to reality.
“You shaved,” I say, my voice sounding throaty. Why is that what I chose to say? Not, ‘Hey, Ryland. Good morning.’ Gah, I could slap my forehead in embarrassment.
“I told him theDuck Dynastylook wasn’t working for him,” a familiar voice says from behind him.
I peer over Ryland’s broad shoulders to see Zane and a wide smile fills my face. I haven’t seen Zane since he was fifteen. He sent me a friend request on Facebook a few years ago, which I accepted, so we’ve exchanged messages back and forth a few times.
Regardless, seeing him in person tugs at my heart, and I can’t stop myself before I’m rushing into his arms for a welcoming hug. “Zane,” I say softly and squeeze him in return before moving back to get a better look at him.
I pat his shoulders, noticing that he’s bulked up since I last saw him as a skinny boy. He’s wearing a Mossy Oak ball cap over his golden-brown locks, and a hint of waves peeking out from beneath that he inherited from his mother. Like his big brother, he’s grown a beard and keeps it neatly trimmed and cared for.
It’s surreal seeing him like this, all grown up instead of the little boy who used to follow Ryland and me aroundeverywhere. I take in the paint-stained shirt he’s wearing and the tool belt around his waist and remember that he, too, stayed in the family business. Pride swells in my heart for the two of them.
His eyes, the same hazel color as Ryland’s, shine brightly toward me, and his smile widens as he says, “It’s so good to see you.”
“Likewise.”
“Big bro couldn’t handle the job alone today, so I came to save the day.” Zane rolls his shoulders back proudly.
“Hey, Daddy, look! That goat is stuck in the hammock.” A tiny voice giggles, and now I’m looking over Zane’s shoulders to see a blonde-haired little girl standing in the front yard.
Behind her sits two large oak trees, and between them is Buck, the billy goat, tugging his head with no luck at getting his horns free from the hammock netting. I look back at her, and she’s giving me a wide, toothy grin, revealing a hole where one is missing. Her blonde hair is pulled back into two braids, and she’s wearing overalls over a light-pink shirt.
There is no doubt that this is Ryland’s daughter, Annabelle. I’ve seen a few photos of her before. However, seeing her in person has its own effect. She looks so much like Ryland. Same hazel eyes, same cute freckles on her nose, and they even share the same cackling laugh.
“There’s a teacher's day at her school, and Mom wasn’t able to watch her, so I had to bring her along. I’ll make sure she minds and doesn’t disrupt your day,” Ryland says, gripping the back of his neck nervously.
“Nonsense. She won’t be a bother. I’m happy to finally meet her and have her here.”
Ryland’s shoulders sag with relief, and his mouth tugs into a small grin.
“You dumb goat. How’d you get in this mess?” Zane chuckles behind us.
I watch as Zane pulls out his phone to snap a few pictures,one including himself pointing toward the goat. He then tugs on Buck’s horns and gets one loose; however, Buck doesn’t seem to like it and jumps, almost knocking Zane over. Ryland rushes over to help, but Buck is not a happy camper. He jumps up again and tries to headbutt Ryland. He’s able to move out of the way but not before falling back against Zane.
“Igoatyou, brother.” Zane cackles at his own wit, earning a head shake from Ryland and a laugh from Annabelle and me.
