I place a couple candles on the counter, next to the vase. I light them, then immediately regret it. We might as well be in the bathtub. With the flowers, it’s too much, like I’m thinking this is a date. I quickly snuff the candles out and stash them, still smoking, in the cabinet before he turns back around.
Maybe you should just put a hard, ugly lump of coal there instead of the candle, Honey. Would that be dreary enough?
He joins me at the counter, pulling a big set of keys out of his pocket, and setting them next to his plate. He slides onto a barstool. “Decided against the candles?”
Does the man have eyes on the back of his head?
“I figured I should save them in case the power goes out,” I lie.
He pops an olive in his mouth before devouring one of the slices of pizza on his plate, just in the time it takes me to take two small bites. He dabs at his lips. “I’m trying to eat like a gentleman.”
“I appreciate it.”
“How long are you staying in Heaven?”
“Not sure yet.” I fiddle with my napkin, then tuck it on my lap and smile. “Tell me about you. What exactly does a Florida rancher do besides wrangle cows, ride bucking broncos, and wear cowboy hats?”
“I usually stay far away from bucking broncos.” He slides another slice of pizza onto his plate, then adds one to mine even though I’ve barely started on the one in my hand. “We’re a cattle ranch. Beef cattle. For the next week, there’ll be storm cleanup. It seems like we just recovered from the last hurricane. It was a brutal one. We lost some cattle, and we had to”—he winks—” wrangle some cows that got through the broken fence lines and wandered into the forest and Billie’s Marsh.” He rubs his finger over his keychain—rubbed bronze with a four-leaf clover in clear plastic. “And as far as wearing a cowboy hat, you should try one instead of that floppy sunhat you wear. Cowboy hats are not just good for horse riding.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have horses at May Ranch?”
“We have work horses. I have three and Bear and Lacy have a handful between them. And there are some extras for the men to use. All of them are well cared for. Lacy, Bear’s sister, who’s been horse crazy since she was seven, wants more. She’s pushing to expand the stables and rent some stalls out.” He takes a sip of water. “But she knows what she’s doing.” He smiles, and I can see the pride shining in his eyes.
“I was horse crazy for a while. Of course, if I could have ridden a unicorn instead, that would have been even better. My parents sent me to an overnight horse camp when I was fifteen. No unicorns, but I swear it was the best few weeks of my childhood…” Until it wasn’t.
“Until you found out there weren’t any unicorns in the stables?”
I smile weakly. “Yeah.”
“I was raised on a ranch. My parents were struggling financially, turned it into a dude ranch for rich people for a couple years. Then when that didn’t take, as a last-ditch effort, they turned it into a horse camp for kids. Probably like the one you went to. That didn’t last for long. My dad got sick, andthey had to sell the land for condos.” He glowers at the table. Obviously still a touchy subject. “Fortunately, it was right when I was graduating from high school. I joined the military the second I could instead of moving into their house in the suburbs. I loved them, and they had no other choice, but it hit me hard when they sold our ranch. The Lucky Clover Ranch had been in our family for several generations.” He rubs a finger over his key ring again.
“Wait, what was the name of your ranch?”
A crack of lightning flashes through the room just as hard and fast as the name of his family’s ranch—The Lucky Clover Ranch—hits my brain, along with the realization that John Fox might possibly be my first crush.
The electricity pops off, and the room is startling silent. The deep black of the night grabs me and pulls me down, into a memory. I’m in Trey’s car, after the accident. Trey is looming over me, his eyes fierce—the only thing I can see in the darkness. “If you say one word, I swear to you, Honey, I’ll make sure everyone thinks you were drinking and driving. Even ifnobodycan prove it, Iwilldestroy you. Nobody cares about proof. They just care about money.”
A crash on the far side of the room yanks me back to the present. John cusses in more than a few different ways. “Kicked something over,” he mumbles.
The electricity switches back on, washing the room in a barrage of light. I wrap my arms around my chest, trying to silence the panic inside of me. My whole body is shaking.
John is moving toward the back door. “I was going to check the generator. Since it kicked in, looks like it’s working.” His eyes sweep the room. He rights Monster’s food bowl before his gaze lands on me. “Hey, you okay? Shit, you’re not okay.” He walks over and wraps his arms around me, and I am immediately more than okay, and the longer he holds me, I’mpushing way past more than okay. I lean into his warm, hard chest and breathe until he pulls away from me and meets my eyes. “What was that? Why were you shaking?”
“I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m a grown adult who’s afraid of the dark,” I say softly. It’s true. After the accident, my sleepwalking and night terrors and my deathly fear of the dark—which I had thought I had outgrown like any respectable adult—kicked in again. And every time I attempt to turn the bedroom light off when I’m going to bed, I hyperventilate until I have to get back up and stumble to the light and turn it back on.
“Let’s get this cottage lit up, then. Just in case the generator doesn’t stay on, you got any flashlights, more candles, and matches? We’ll make this place brighter than the sun.”
“A whole drawer full.” I reach over and open one of the cabinet drawers, looking away from his gaze.
He rummages around, then tosses me a pack of matches. “Maybe you should light those candles now.”
I surreptitiously watch him checking the flashlights. I’m not even going to attempt to stand and help. I might flop right down onto the floor. My legs are weak from my panic attack and swoony from the hug and his casual, sweet kindness.
He turns to me, catching me staring. “You were going to say something before the lights went out.”
“Um… was I?”
“We were talking about horse camp.”
