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“This is Ella Tillon.”
Ella Tillon, he thought.Ella Tillon?
“I’m Gina’s sister,” she said. “Ella Barlow.”
“Oh,” he practically yelled. “Sure, of course. How are you, Ella?”
She exhaled in a very long hiss, clearly telling him she wasn’t well. Adrenaline spiked through him, but not the good kind where he’d just sunk a cornhole. He and Gina were in third place now, and they wouldn’t be budging Adam and Lowry or Sierra and Holly. The two of those teams had gone back and forth from first to second, and Blake had told Gina that third was their number one.
“I hate to do this,” Ella said, and she sounded sincere. “I’m wondering if you can…come into town for the holiday?” Now she sounded unsure, maybe even a little hesitant.
“What?” Blake asked. “For the Fourth of July?”
“Yes,” Ella said. “I know Gina works out there, and that takes a lot of her time, but she moved back here to help me with our parents, and well, she hasn’t. She’s always out there. She does everything with your family, and…my parents feel neglected. Like they’re not good enough.” She took a breath, as she’d been speaking very fast. “They would probably come out there, but Gina hasn’t invited them, and well, I don’t know what to do. So I’m calling you.”
Blake leaned back in his chair, the wheels squeaking as he did. “I…” He had no idea what to say. He supposed Gina did spend a large percentage of her time out here at the ranch with him.
No, he thought.All of it.She spentallof her time out here with him, and he hadn’t even considered her family in Chestnut Springs. Guilt gutted him, and he turned away from the open doorway like he could escape it that way.
“Y’all are absolutely welcome out here,” he said, his voice gruff. He tried to clear away the emotion. “I know it wasn’t Gina’s intent to exclude you. Any of you. Mine either.”
“I know,” Ella said, her voice half made of relief and half of defensive dignity. “Are there enough tickets for us? I have three kids, my husband, and my parents.”
Blake swung around in his chair and started making tally marks as she kept talking. “Then there’s Brody and Kit. They’re coming from San Antonio, and you know, my brother never leaves the city. They have three kids too. So that’s ten people.”
He’d noted the same number. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he said. “Which events do you want to come to? All of them? Some? It’s a four-day extravaganza.”
“My folks won’t stay up for the fireworks,” she said. “But Brody and I would love to bring our families.”
“Sure,” Blake said. Fireworks were easy, because they didn’t have assigned seats. There were no tickets; anyone could come and spread out on the ranch and watch the night sky light up in red, white, and blue.
“The chuckwagon dinner?” Ella asked, and Blake swallowed hard. “My parents would love that, and they want to see you. Meet you again.”
“I’ve met them,” Blake said, now on the defensive. “Loads of times.”
“But not for a while,” Ella insisted. “It’s like Gina’s hiding you from us. Or she’s withdrawing from us all over again, just like she did before she left town after high school.” She continued to talk, and Blake agreed with whatever she said.
Part of him had gone cold. Had he really prevented Gina from spending time with her family? Was she preparing to quit her job here and leave Chestnut Springs again?
He hated all these doubts inside him, but he didn’t know how to answer them adequately enough to get them to quiet.
The call with Ella finally ended, and Blake looked at his chicken scratched notes. He suddenly had six more problems to solve before bedtime, and the biggest one was where to seat ten more people at the Friday night chuckwagon dinner when they’d been sold out for months.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Gina put the last two blueberries into the blue rectangle she’d reserved for the top left corner of the American flag. Her back ached, as did her head, and she wasn’t going to be able to feel her fingers for a good, long while.
She’d ice them once she cleaned up her station, and she’d eat something real instead of fruit and cake—all she’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours—and she’d take a healthy amount of painkillers before she collapsed onto the couch in Blake’s office.
“Done,” she breathed as she stepped back from the cake. She only had one more insane day to prepare desserts for, but tonight’s chuckwagon dinner had definitely stretched the kitchen to the maximum.
Starla had been barking for a week, and everyone kept their heads down and their hands busy. Which was why no one congratulated her on the biggest flag cake she’d ever made. It was just another task that needed to be done.
Later tonight, it would be cut into four hundred individual squares and fed to the ticket-holding people at dinner. The red, white, and blue frosting hid a delectable chocolate cake, and Starla and Nash had assigned no less than ten cowboys to scoop ice cream from huge barrels that had arrived earlier that day.
Gallon upon gallon of root beer had been purchased as well, and anyone could have a root beer float after dinner. Kyle had arranged for Chip and Threat Gunnison to perform that night, and Gina couldn’t wait to see the country duo sensation on stage. She’d heard their show was spectacular, and the way Blake had talked about how picky they were being about their special effects, she believed the rumors.
“That’s beautiful,” Ashley said, coming up beside Gina. “Great job, Gina.”
