Page 5

“Oh, no.” Tate shakes his head. “She’s not staying at the ranch house. With Mom, me and the wife, two kids, and a third on the way? Mom figured she’d rather haveher space.” He laughs. “She’s staying in the old hunting cabin.”

The old hunting cabin. Things are starting to make a bit more sense. While the cabin isn’t exactly part of the Village, it’s close by. Much closer to the Village than the ranch house. And my bunk house, in particular, is pretty close.

Damn. Okay, it’s sounding harder and harder to get out of this one.

I grimace. “Does she really need to be … watched?” I ask hesitantly. The Thatchers routinely have family or friends staying at the cabin, and they’ve always been fine.

Tate grimaces back. “To be honest, it’s something my mom asked of me and … well, I’m passing the buck.” He shoots me a guilty look.

I groan. Tate isn’t all that much older than me. Mid thirties. But he runs the ranch like he’s much older. I think his dad dying five years ago really made him grow up fast when it comes to running the ranch. But I also think it makes him a bit of a momma’s boy. Whatever hismom asks, he gives her. Which isn’t always bad. I mean, Theresa’s a sweet woman.

Although I’m not exactly loving her sweet nature right in this moment.

“But come on—it makes more sense that one of you guys keeps an eye on her than me. You’re all out here.” Tate gestures. “Besides, I’ve got two kids and a pregnant wife to take up my time.”

“Okay, okay,” I mutter, throwing him a half-fake-half-genuine look of disdain. When it comes to who has the busier life, I can’t compete there. Besides, staying on my boss’s good side is never a bad thing.

Although Addison Thatcher has the potential to really screw up my summer. She strikes me as the high-maintenance type. No, scratch that. Sheisthe high-maintenance type. There’s no doubt about it.

Tate sighs. “Thanks, man. For real.”

“Anything in particular I should be looking out for?” I ask. “Does she turn into a werewolf under the full moon or something?”

Tate snorts. “Nah. She’s just had a rough year. It’s the reason she’s out here for the summer. And honestly, I’d plan on spending more time with her if I could, but, like I said, the family …”

I wave off his comment. Tate is about as dedicated of a husband and father as one could find. Almost obnoxiously so. And from what I’ve heard, his wife has been having a bit of a difficult pregnancy this go around, so I’m not surprised that he doesn’t want to spend his time babysitting his little cousin.

Which means, apparently, that I have to.

“I owe you one,” Tate says with a clap on the back.

“Yeah. You do,” Imutter.

Chapter 3

Addison

The cabin is … nice. Nice, as in up to date, clean, well furnished. The taste, on the other hand … well, that’s questionable. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that a cabin deep in the woods on ranch property has a “rustic” theme. It’s just not really my vibe.

But it was kind of my Aunt Theresa and cousin Tate to offer it to me for the summer, so I’m going to make the most of it. Tate had shown me up here yesterday afternoon, and my first night had been, well, peaceful, to use the words of the hot-yet-irritating cowboy from yesterday.

Although I’m not about to tell him that.

I exit the cabin’s front door, stepping out onto the small porch and jogging down the wooden steps. I’ve been leant a car to use while I’m here for the summer. It’s Tate’s wife’s but since she’s very pregnant, sick a lot of the time, and has Tate doting on her hand and foot, she said she doesn’t need it for the time being.

I hop inside, start it up, and begin making my way through the forest and down the small hill to the ranch house. It’s only about a five-minute drive. Tate had insisted I come down for dinner today—apparently, it’s some monthly shindig the family puts on? I’m still a bit unclear.

In a few minutes, I pull up in front of the ranch house, parking the car and then heading inside. The house, while just as rustic as the cabin, is gorgeous. It was designed and constructed by my late uncle, Jim Thatcher, way back when he first acquired the property and started the ranch. It’s where all my cousins grew up. I remember visiting during the summers as a kid. It’s also where Tate and his wife are raising their kids.

“Addison!” a warm voice greets me as I turn the corner.

Theresa Thatcher is standing at the counter, rearranging the contents of her purse. Her shoulder-length gray hair is pulled back with a clip, and the smile lines around her eyes ring true to the kind of person she is. She comes around the counter, pulling me into a hug that’s both familiar yet strange. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, but her warmth instantly transports me back to childhood summers spent here. “So sorry I wasn’t here to greet you yesterday. Lucy felt so ill, so I took over watching the kids,” she explains.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I tell her quickly.

“Tate says one of the ranch hands helped you find the house.”

I nod. “Yep. Cruz.”