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“You and all the boys,” Ella laughed. At least twice a week, she’d served buffet lunches so hearty they could have been dinners. The men clambered into the big air-conditioned dining room to escape the heat of midday and enjoyed the nourishment they needed to work into the late hours of spring, summer and fall. “How you makin’ out around here with meals?”
“Not as good as the old days,” Hank grinned, giving her a wink. “Mostly I order a big meal from the supermarket or pizza shop in town. Julio picks it up in the morning and brings it along. Been gettin’ the guys out to Hymie’s once in a while, too, in the evenings, so they know they’re appreciated.”
“I miss cooking for you, Hank. How ‘bout I make up tomorrow’s picnic? I’d like that—be like old times, makin’ lunch for you and Daisy. I could do my lemon bars the two of you used to like so much.”
“Aw, Ma, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re here to rest. You’ll want to sleep in tomorrow, won’t you? I can figure something out.”
Ella Jean just smiled. “What have we got out in the fridge, son, to make a nice picnic with?”
Hank met her eyes shyly. “I thawed a turkey to roast. Figured I’d slice the breast for sandwich meat and make up some chili for the guys later in the week.”
“That’s the ticket! I’m feeling a second wind. I’ll be ready to go after I finish this soup. Have we got some fresh eggs? I can bake off some sweetbread rolls for your sandwiches.”
“Mmm, that sounds real good. Daisy always liked your sweet rolls.”
“Any lemons out there in the kitchen?”
“Yup, they’re always on the list, for iced tea.”
Ella Jean felt a lilt come into her voice. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re not just running a ranch here, you’re running a kitchen, too. Not many mothers are blessed with a grown son who’s as fine a man as you are.” She lifted a hand to his neck, and Hank ducked down, so she could kiss his hair like she always had.
It made her feel better than she had in weeks.
*******
Daisy got a text from Hank Sunday morning. Mom made a picnic. Bringing it along. C u soon. She was cinching up Gypsy Girl when he came over the hill at eleven. As he got closer, she saw a big grin on his face.
“Sure is a nice day for a ride,” he called, all easy-eyed and wide-shouldered.
“Sure is,” she agreed, trying to ignore the buzzing swell that spread across her belly and warmed her thighs. Concentrating on knotting her cinch, she glanced quickly at Hank, conscious of his broad, thick chest and large hands on the reins, so close now.
He was handsome, always had been, she just never thought of them being together in this way, before. She swung up on Gypsy Girl, and they started for the creek. Riding out together on a Sunday was different from going to rodeo. Without all the commotion and distractions, she felt shy, but Hank seemed relaxed, making talk about nothing as the horses picked their way along the trail.
When they reached the rocky spot above the pond, he legged Cuervo into the water that roiled along the flat, muddy creek bed. It was easier on the horses’ hooves, so she squeezed her legs to Gypsy’s sides and followed. There was nothing to say while the horses splashed along. Water dotted her jeans as they crossed the creek in sunshine and cool air, and Daisy’s tension eased. They climbed a knoll onto the McGreer’s side, then pulled up on top of the long slope that faced the waterfall. They’d visited here so often, years before.
She dismounted and knotted Gypsy’s reins. Hank did the same, and they left their horses to graze in the warm sun. He tossed Daisy a blanket. A breeze tugged it as she spread it under pecan trees just starting to leaf out. She sat, leaning back on her hands to soak up the sunshine while Hank brought his saddle bag and unpacked the picnic.
She’d been too nervous to eat much for breakfast, and she was hungry, now. They ate the big turkey sandwiches and lemon bars Hank’s mother had sent, washing them down with sweet tea and ginger ale.
Then Hank rolled over. Flat on his belly, he moved close, propping on his elbows so she could feel his breath on her arm. Taking a bit of her hair between his fingers, he ran it between his lips as his booted feet swung in the air.
Smiling at her, his blue-grey eyes gazed up, no longer cool and detached, but admiring, longing, seeming to want more than she was ready to give.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she tensed. “I don’t know about this, Hank.”
Still easy, he grabbed her boot, tugging a little. “About what, Daize?”
“About riding out together for this picnic, about the kissing we did Thursday night.”
Resting on his elbows, he looked steady into her eyes. “How come?”
She shrugged, feeling exposed. “I don’t know.”
She got up and walked towards Gypsy and Cuervo, still grazing on the hill. With T.J., she’d known what to expect…only disappointment, after a while; their next fight was always just around the bend. Convinced Hank was clueless and arrogant, she’d excused treating him badly for years, punishing him for stuff that had been out of his control, because it was easier that way. . . But Hank’s been trying to show me how much he cared this whole time!
It felt like a lot more than just flirtation, this current that ran between them, but it was hard to let her guard down. He didn’t even try to hide his admiration of her, showing so much consideration and tenderness, she was rattled by it. It wasn’t her fault—her hesitation, her discomfort. This was all new.
Grabbing reins, she led the horses back. Hank was stuffing leftovers in his pack. He folded the blanket, smiling shyly. She gave him a quivering smile, and his eyes lit. “Long way’s easier on the horses,” he said.
