Chapter 20

Tag had never eaten such good food. He'd never seen steak cooked to pure perfection. Opal had been moaning and exclaiming over everything that had been put on the table that night, including the black tuxedo cake sitting between them now.

"Tag," she said, and he looked up, the last of his cake melting in his mouth. "This has been the perfect day."

"Has it?"

"I mean, since you picked me up," she said. "Though I don't mind tending West."

He grinned at her. "You love that baby," he said. "Don't act like it's a chore for you to babysit him."

She grinned back at him. "Fine, I won't." She put her elbows on the table. "Tag."

"Go on, love."

"It's honey-love," she teased, but she sobered quickly. "I don't want to get a job. I don't want to guest lecture at a college or university anywhere."

He knew Opal had been trying to figure out what she wanted her life to be, and he'd been silently at her side, listening to her talk when she felt like talking. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

Opal leaned away from the last few bites of cake. Everything about her sparkled, from the diamonds hanging from her ears and glinting from her collarbone. Her sequins had first blinded him at the farmhouse, then the physical diamonds, and then her pure inner radiance.

Tag knew now that he could love this woman, and on some level, he already did. But he honestly had no idea how to be her equal, and he wanted a husband-wife relationship that existed on even ground.

"I know it's going to be work," she said. "But hear me out."

"Have I ever not heard you out?"

She gave him a timid smile and glanced up as the waiter arrived to remove their dessert. "Dancing will be in the waterfall garden in about ten minutes."

"Thank you," Tag said.

Opal's face lit up. "Dancing?"

"In the waterfall garden," he echoed, half-wishing he and Opal could just escape the press of the public and find somewhere private to be.

"Do you dance?" she asked.

Tag nodded. "I've been taking online classes. Well." He gave his shoulders a little shake. "Sort of. There are these tutorials on YouTube. I've been practicing with those."

Opal reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers. "Taggart, you are the sweetest man alive."

He glanced around the restaurant, which held table after table of men just like him. "I don't know about that, Opal."

"Well, I do." She squeezed her fingers around his. "I want to start a non-profit health clinic for farmers and ranchers." Her glow had returned, and Tag had seen this look in her eyes and parading across her face when she'd spoken of things she felt passionately about.

He waited for her to explain more, and when she didn't, he asked, "And?"

"And that's as far as I've gotten," she said. "I have a lot of other things going on, but once I'm settled in my own place, I'm going to need something to fill my day."

"Maybe you'll be married," he said. "With babies of your own."

Her eyebrows rose, and oh, he liked it when she challenged him silently.

"I'm just saying." He tried to shrug again, but he wasn't sure it came off right.

"What are you saying, exactly?"

"How long do you need to date someone before you know you want to be with them forever?" he asked.

Opal's eyebrows went down and now she regarded him like he was a puzzle she needed to solve. "I don't know. I think that's different for every person."

"I'm not asking generally," he said. "I'm asking you. How long do you need to date me before you know you want to be with me forever?"

Opal looked like he'd picked up her fizzy lemonade and thrown it in her face. Splashed it down that gorgeous dress that had to cost more than he made in a year. "I don't know, Taggart," she whispered.

His full name had become a term of endearment when she said it, and Tag loved hearing it in her voice. "Okay," he said. "But just because I don't say everything I think doesn't mean I don't see you with West. It doesn't mean I don't know you want a baby of your own, and maybe you won't want to be tied to a clinic when you can be home with that baby."

On a farm with her family literally right next door. She might want to open and operate a non-profit clinic for farmers and ranchers, but Tag also knew Opal wanted to be a mother. Maybe more than anything.

"Maybe," she finally said.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a man with a cool, smooth voice said over the speaker system. "The waterfall garden is now open for dancing."

Tag looked at Opal and removed the napkin from his lap. "Can I have this dance?"

She smiled at him in a way that made his heart want to march to the top of the highest cliff and then fling itself off. He'd do anything for her, anything to make her laugh and smile, anything to make sure she could have every dream of hers realized.

If that wasn't love, Tag didn't know what was. But he'd never been in love before, and he didn't want to move too fast. Plus, you're not telling her you love her on Valentine's Day. Too cliché.

"Yes, please." Opal put her hand in his and stood, her dress settling in all the right places easily. She grinned at him with those dark red lips he couldn't wait to kiss later, and they moved into the waterfall garden, where a whole new world opened up before him.

"Oh, there's an actual waterfall," he said. "Indoors." He'd never seen that before, and he couldn't look away from the three-story tall waterfall, the sound of which created a soothing harmony to accompany the twinkling music being played by a live band in the corner.

Potted plants and trellises with vines dotted the dancefloor and created separate areas inside the large space. Tag wanted to find a dark corner, but Opal pointed to his left and said, "Tag, look at those lilacs."

"How'd they get this stuff to grow here?" he wondered aloud as he went up a couple of steps and across a bridge—that ran over water from the waterfall—to the part of the room that housed the lilacs Opal liked.

He took her into his arms easily, the scent of lilacs and sugar surrounding him only to get replaced by the soft, sexy quality of Opal's perfume, her skin, her hair. Tag let his eyes drift closed, and suddenly, the rest of his senses came to high alert.

He felt the shape of Opal in his arms, in his life, in his heart. He hadn't realized a hole exactly her height, her size, her shape, had existed in his life until he'd met her. He hadn't realized how incomplete he'd been until tonight, and he wanted to keep her at his side forever.

So he just needed to figure out how to believe he was worthy to be with her. Worthy to be a Hammond. Worthy to be the simple cowboy he was and still be the man at Opal's side.

And that seemed to need the hand of God, so as Tag swayed back and forth with Opal, gently leading her around the lilac-rimmed patio, he prayed for the divine help he needed to become who she needed him to be.

February melted into March, literally. Around the farm, everything turned to mud and mush, and Tag caught sight of Opal sitting on her bright purple couch outside of the farmhouse some afternoons. The really sunny ones.

She set up a low, waist-high fence and let West run wild while she laid back, her feet on one of the arm rests and her head on the cushions, and read. Whenever the one-year-old would squawk, she'd look over to him, and Tag found them both down on the ground, examining an earthworm once.

He could admit he loved watching her with West. She adored him, obviously, and she took immaculate care of him.

The ground had been broken for her house and the cement foundation poured. It sat curing right now, and as the sunshine continued throughout March, Tag's workload expanded. He watched the weather religiously, because Mother Nature could surprise them with a late spring snowstorm at any time—and often did. She was fickle and unpredictable in March and April, that was for certain.

One day about mid-March, Tag had finished riding the whole ranch to check the fences. He'd made notes about what needed to be fixed or replaced before planting, which they'd do in another four or six weeks.

He and Steele still worked with the horses every day too, of course. Rooster and the others had settled in just fine. He'd moved the chicken coop back outside, and the barn was almost back to where it would be until winter descended over the land again.

Right now, he grabbed his mail from the farmhouse and joined the dogs outside again. "Got it, guys," he said. Then he, Boots, and Max made the walk over to his cabin. Inside, Tag sighed, glad to be home after a long day of work.

He didn't get much mail, because he didn't pay rent or utilities here. Every now and then, his mom would send something through the postal system, but he usually got coupon books or advertisements.

Today, he had a soft, silky envelope with his name printed on it in fancy cursive. The return address said Lewis at the top, and Tag's mind misfired. "What's this?" he asked himself as he flipped over the ivory envelope and ran his thumb under the flap.

Just as he pulled out the wedding announcement, he remembered. "Oh, duh," he said. "Keith and Lindsay." The two of them stood in the field, facing one another. They both wore smiles of complete love and joy as Keith had his head bent toward Lindsay, his eyes closed, and she beamed up at him with hers open.

Wow, Tag thought, the word not coming out of his mouth. That was what love looked like, and Tag's throat closed in on itself. He wanted this picture in his life, but he wanted to be the one standing in the field with the woman he loved.

With Opal.

"You don't love her," he muttered to himself. They'd only been dating for a few months, and he wasn't going to be the one to lose his heart this time. Even as he pulled back on his feelings, he felt them slipping further from him.

He turned to the fridge and put the wedding announcement up, glancing at the dates. Their wedding would happen in another month or so, and Tag already had it on his calendar. He wouldn't miss it, because he wanted to witness that love and joy first-hand.

He wanted to call Opal and see her that night, but she'd left the farm already for an evening with Cord and Jane. When she wasn't spending time with her family or tending to West, Opal had been meeting with her general contractor, subcontractors, and now, a new business consultant about what she needed to do to start a non-profit medical clinic in the state of Colorado.

All of it made Tag tired—and Opal busier than ever. He didn't get to see her nearly as much as he had in the winter, and a vein of frustration sprouted and started to grow. He tamped it down again and again as he made himself a roast beef sandwich and tater tots for dinner.

By the time he sat down on his couch, with Boots next to him and Max curled at his feet, Tag had lost the battle against his loneliness. He wanted Opal here, and the TV was a poor substitute for the woman.

He thought of Valentine's Day, and how stunningly magical their evening together had been. Her dress. That meal. Holding her in his arms. Kissing her goodnight until it felt like his lips were bruised.

It almost felt like that night had happened to someone else. "It's been a month," he said. "She won't be busy like this forever. Calm down."

He calmed enough to eat, but once he finished, he really had nothing interesting to hold his attention. He got up and rinsed his plate, set it in the dishwasher, and avoided looking at Keith and Lindsay's obvious bliss.

"Come on, guys," he said to the dogs. "Can't stay in tonight." He wasn't sure why or how this mood had come over him, but he hoped the great outdoors would give him more space to think, better air to breathe, and a chance for his toxic feelings to dissipate and disappear.

He left through the back door instead of the front, and he walked along the tree line behind the cabins. Boots and Max trotted around, sniffing everything and marking their territory. Max barked once, his way of letting the world know he existed.

Tag smiled at the shepherd, surprised he hadn't stayed at the farmhouse. But Gerty and Mike hadn't been there either, and Tag decided to do a loop that went past the farmhouse, so he could drop off their dog on his way back.

The river bubbled about a half-mile away, and while Tag stepped in some muddy spots along the way, he didn't mind the walk. The sun had gone behind the mountains, but it wasn't quite dark yet, and he allowed himself to breathe fully.

"It's okay to miss her," he told himself, feeling that powerfully for a moment. "It's also okay that she's out there, doing what she wants to do."

His phone rang, and Tag tugged it free of his pocket. Mike's name sat there, and Tag swiped on the call. "Hey, Mikey."

"Hey, Tag." The man sounded generally upbeat, so nothing too wrong could be happening. "Listen, Gerty and I are at the Cinemax, and they're having their annual buy-one-get-one ticket sale. She wondered if you wanted some tickets?"

"Sure," Tag said. "Are they doing a year expiration again?"

"Uh…yeah. Yep."

Tag could just hear the nod in Mike's voice, and it made him smile. "A year."

"Okay," Tag said. "Get me six."

"Six?" Mike asked, and Tag heard Gerty repeat it.

"Doesn't seem like enough," Gerty said, her voice quieter than Mike's.

"It's every other month," Tag said. "I don't get off the farm to the Cinemax that much as it is. I think that sounds generous."

"Oh, six tickets gets him twelve tickets," Gerty said.

Tag just let them talk for a moment, and he wondered why twelve tickets was somehow acceptable when six wasn't. Did they think he'd be going alone once a month?

"Okay," Mike said. "Thanks, Tag."

"Yep." He ended the call, and he didn't even have the phone back in his pocket before it rang again. This time, his brother's name sat there, and surprise filled Tag.

"Sawyer," he said after he'd answered the call. "What's up?"

"Taggart!" The cowboy on the other end of the line could drawl—and laugh, which Sawyer did next. "How are you, brother?"

"Good," Taggart said, turning left along a dirt path that sat between two dormant fields. He'd plant them this year after a year of soil rest, and he suddenly remembered he needed to meet with Keith to go over his planting plan. "Getting ready for planting. Getting the farm cleaned up from winter. Pretty standard stuff." He walked away from the mountains now, but the shadows they cast draped over the land in front of him.

I love it here, he thought. Out loud, he asked, "You? How are you and Flint?"

"That's why I'm calling, actually," Sawyer said, and he sobered quite a bit.

Tag tilted his head, something in his brother's tone he didn't like. "Yeah? Trouble?"

"No, not trouble, exactly," Sawyer said. "We want to come up there for your birthday. Could you house us?"

Tag didn't know what to say for a moment. Then, a sense of being cared for, of someone thinking about him, of him not being the lone wolf, the odd man out, the last one to know everything, filled him. "Yeah," he said. "Of course."

"Do you want us to come?" Sawyer asked. "I know May's a busy time on any ranch, especially one in spring and moving into summer. It would be a weekend or three days. And we can help you work in the morning and evening or whatever."

"Of course I want you to come," Tag said. "I'll talk to Gerty and Mike. We've got Steele now. I might not have to work at all." He swallowed, because he hadn't even told the twins about Opal. "And you can meet my girlfriend."

Sawyer let a beat of silence go by, and then he said, "Hoo, boy, you have been holdin' out on us!" in his party-boy voice.

Tag laughed this time, because Sawyer always made having a girlfriend into a big deal. Tag supposed it was, but at the same time, it wasn't. He made it back to the main dirt road that would lead him to the farmhouse—and now past Opal's house too—as he grinned and grinned.

Sawyer told Flint about Tag's girlfriend, and he listened to the two of them tease him for a couple of minutes. "All right, all right," he said. "Do either of you animals have girlfriends?"

"Nope," Sawyer said.

"No wonder you think it's a marvel or a wonder," Tag said dryly. "Believe it or not, I've been out with women before."

"Yeah, but after Talina," Sawyer said, once again bringing the mood back to level.

"Yeah," Tag said and nothing else. Ahead of him, Boots trotted along with Max, and then both dogs looked to their left. Tag followed their gaze too, but he couldn't see anything.

Max barked and broke into a run, with Boots hot on his heels. Tag's adrenaline kicked up a notch, especially as he made it past a copse of trees and Opal's SUV came into view. She'd parked in front of her foundation, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

Then a cry filled the air, and Tag dang near dropped his phone. "I have to go," he said, remembering he was on a call.

"Tag—"

"I'll call you back," he barked, and he didn't bother hanging up before he broke into a jog too. He knew that sound, and with Opal's car in front of him, he felt certain she needed help.

Right now.