Chapter 4

Tag ran his church belt through the loops and buckled it, pulling it right to the middle of his body. He owned slacks, but he wasn't sure a Friday night at The Golden Coop, even if he'd somehow dipped deep in the well of his memory and remembered Opal's love of chicken fingers, warranted church clothes.

So he wore blue jeans and this fancy brown belt with the shiniest buckle he owned. He'd never ridden in the rodeo or anything, so it wasn't the size of a dinner plate, but his granddaddy had given this family crest buckle to his father, who'd given it to him.

He turned away from the bed and looked into his closet. The cabin didn't have anything he could walk into, but he had plenty of room for the things he had to hang. As someone who went to work everyday, he didn't need a ton of button-up shirts or polos. He usually wore T-shirts and jeans, boots and hats, and sunscreen. Around the house, he wore more of the same, with a pair of basketball shorts or a baggy pair of sweatpants thrown in.

He did have a couple of white shirts he kept bleached for the Sabbath, and he had several nicer shirts in plaid, plain colors, and stripes he could choose from for purposes such as this. "What to pick, what to pick," he muttered.

Something his momma had once said popped into his head, and Tag reached for a pale green button-up that had white stripes across the top half. He put it on without thinking too hard about it, buttoned it up, and moved over a pace to stand in front of the mirror.

"You've always looked good in green," he said aloud, repeating what his mother had told him when he'd gone on a date in high school. He had to hope that now, sixteen years later, she hadn't been lying to him.

He left his bedroom, grabbed his keys and wallet, and stopped only in the living room to give his corgi a good scrub. "You're good, huh?" he asked the dog. He rolled onto his back, his little paws sticking up into the air, the cute white boots what had earned him his name.

Boots made Tag so happy, and he straightened as he said, "I'll be back later, buddy. Wish me luck." He left the cabin then and hurried to his truck parked out front. He had ten minutes before he needed to pick up Opal, and that would mean his vehicle would be nice and toasty for her.

She'd once told him that she used to hate it when her dates in high school would come in freezing cold trucks, and she'd have to sit on their icy seats in her dresses. He had no idea if she'd be wearing a dress tonight, but Tag wasn't about to let her be cold. Not on his watch.

Oh, no. He had plans at one of her favorite places to eat, and because The Golden Coop would be busy and loud, he'd then called and got them tickets to the botanical exhibit at the Royal Chinese Gardens.

Indoors, heated, with a special Imperial Winter Christmas exhibit. If that didn't scream Opal's name, then Tag didn't know her at all.

"Dear Lord," he prayed as he sat in the cold truck as it warmed. "Bless us to have clear roads tonight. Good luck at the restaurant. An easy time at the botanical gardens." He took a breath and tried to relax. "I just want this to be fun for her."

He wanted to hold her hand and maybe kiss her goodnight. He wanted to laugh with her and talk with her. He wanted a lot more than just fun for her—he wanted this to be fun for him too. And the start of something good.

But "fun for her" would lead to a second date, and Tag really wanted one of those too.

With only three minutes to spare, he finally pulled out of his driveway and headed for the farmhouse. Opal had texted that afternoon that she could meet him at his cabin for their date, but Tag had flat-out refused.

Yeah, it might be slightly awkward for him to walk up to his best friend's door and ring the bell—a place he normally just entered after knocking once or twice. And to have Mike look at him differently.

But Opal lived there, and Tag wanted to be a proper Southern gentleman. So he pulled up to the farmhouse, a place he'd loved the moment he'd done so the first time. That interview with Mike and Gerty had gone so well, and he'd been so hopeful. Then, when he'd gotten the job here, he'd never been happier.

He drew a deep breath and got out of the truck while leaving it running. A few steps up to the porch, a few more to the door. He knocked and fell back a step, his heartbeat pounding the same way his knuckles just had.

He expected Opal to open the door, but Gerty did, with West on her hip. The little boy almost always had a smile and a chubby-cheeked giggle for anyone and everyone he met, but tonight, fat tears clung to his eyelashes and he hiccupped as if he'd been crying a lot.

"Hey, Tag," Gerty said easily. "C'mon in." She stepped back as the scent of dinner filtered outside. "Opal just ran down the hall to grab something."

Tag nodded at her and entered the house. Mike looked over from where he stood in the kitchen, and he grinned as he abandoned his chores. "Wow, cowboy, look at you."

"It's the same thing I wear all the time," Tag said, though he smiled too. He'd pulled a leather jacket over his shirt, and he tucked his hands in the pockets to keep it closed over his "fancy" shirt.

"Nice belt buckle." Mike came closer and shook his hand.

"It's my granddaddy's," Tag said. "I only wear it on special occasions."

"The jacket?" Opal said from behind him. He spun, and the most gorgeous woman in the world glided toward him. She'd somehow gotten the memo that they were getting chicken fingers for dinner, and she'd left the dresses in her closet.

She wore instead a pair of deep purple pants with wide legs that flowed around her like luxurious water. Her blouse had to have come with the pants, as they bore the same color purple, with navy blue, and the two colors made abstract watercolor flowers on a white background.

He could see through the blouse to a white tank top with tiny, spaghetti straps, and Tag's mouth went dry at the sight of her skin, even through fabric.

"I've seen the jacket before." Opal came right into his personal space as if her brother and sister-in-law weren't even there. She reached up and touched the lapel, her smile painted in dark red a memory he would not soon forget.

"I was talking about the belt buckle," he said.

Opal's gaze dropped to it, which felt a little awkward.

"It's a family crest," he said. "My family comes from horses in Alabama."

Opal smiled and looked back at him. "I see that. It's very nice, and no, I haven't seen it before." She looked over to her brother. "I'll be back later." She swept a kiss across his cheek and then moved over to Gerty and West. "You be a good boy for your mama now." She kissed the baby too, nodded at Gerty, and faced Tag again. "He's not happy I'm leaving tonight." A faint smile came to her mouth again. "I hold him while he sleeps, and his mama just puts him in his crib."

"I can see why he prefers you," Tag said with a smile. He took her coat from her after she'd picked it up from the back of the couch and helped her into it. Then he led her to the door and right out of it without looking back. For some reason, he didn't know what to say on the way to the truck, but when he opened her door for her, a flood of heat came out.

"Nice and warm," she said.

Tag closed her door and went to get behind the wheel.

"So," she said. "You're from Alabama."

"I'm pretty sure I've told you that before," he said.

"Maybe." She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. She'd left the majority of it down, with just a bit clipped back on either side. "I'm not sure, actually."

"A tiny town outside of Tuscaloosa," he said. "It's called Logandale. Literally a speck of a town. If you blink, you drive through it." Tag threw her a smile. "Sort of how you described Coral Canyon."

"Oh, Coral Canyon takes at least a full minute to drive through," she teased, and Tag laughed.

"Family?" she asked.

"The twins," he said. "Brothers. They both live in Texas now. Workin' a farm there."

"Like you're working one here." Opal smiled again, and he wondered how she made her lips shiny and matte at the same time. He also wondered what that lipstick would taste like, and he shoved that thought away.

"Right," he said. "Sawyer and Fletcher are twenty-five. I was six when they were born. I remember my momma bringin' ‘em home from the hospital."

"Oh, wow," Opal said with a laugh. "I bet that was a shock for you. An only child for so long, and then two babies crowding your space."

"They were loud," Tag said with a laugh. He got them on the highway and driving away from the farm, and added, "No reservations at The Golden Coop, but I figured?—"

"You are not taking me to The Golden Coop." Opal wore a look of delight now, and Tag needed to make her do that every day for the rest of his life. She pealed out a string of glorious laughter. "I just told Kyle and Carrie today that I was craving some of their honey chipotle chicken fingers."

"With the ranch dressing dipping sauce."

"My mouth is watering," she said, her tone full of joy. She clapped her hands together. "I'm so excited."

Tag chuckled. "Glad the chicken fingers are a win, then."

"Chicken fingers are always a win," she said.

"So…it wasn't too weird with Mike, right?"

"My brother knows he's not the boss of me," Opal said. "He never has been."

"I know, but I still thought it might be weird. Or with Gerty? I mean, she's my boss."

"Neither of them acted too weird," Opal said, her voice pitching up a little now. Tag wasn't entirely sure she was telling the entire truth. But he, Gerty, and Mike—and Opal—were all adults, and he figured if someone didn't like how things went, they could say something.

It might be awkward, but it couldn't be worse than the past few months since Opal had been kicked by a horse he'd been training.

"Tell me a random fact about you," Opal said.

"A random fact?"

"Yeah, like, I'm double-jointed in my fingers." She held out one hand and bent down only the top knuckle. Tag stared at her fingers for a moment, then blinked to get his attention back on the road.

"Uh, wow," he said.

Opal giggled lightly and said, "Don't worry. It's not a plague or anything."

"I've just never seen that," he said.

"So, random fact." She clearly wasn't going to let this go.

Tag looked out his side window, but in December, even the first week, the sun set by five o'clock at the latest. No one drove this stretch of road, so he didn't really have a whole lot stealing his attention.

"Uh, I solved a Rubix cube in five minutes and ten seconds once," he said. "In junior high."

Opal looked over to him again, and it really was unfair that he couldn't do the same to her. But he didn't want to drive them off the road, so he only glanced at her. "Is that fast?" she asked.

"I mean, it's not the speedcube record," he said. "Those guys solve it in like five seconds."

"That is not true," she said. "Five seconds?"

"Yeah, it is," he said with a light laugh. "Look it up."

She tugged her phone out of her purse and did just that, the screen illuminating her fine features. Tag liked how everything with her existed in black and white then, except for her gorgeous mouth.

After only a few seconds, she said, "Fine. The world record is actually below four seconds."

"See?" He laughed again. "That's why five minutes isn't impressive. But for a thirteen-year-old in rural Alabama, it was." He turned onto the main highway, the road everyone drove to get into the major Denver metropolis. "You did say a random fact."

"That I did." Opal tucked her phone away, and Tag decided to be brave. He reached over and took her hand in his. Suddenly, images of a brilliant blue sky and a long, dusty road stretched in front of him.

And he and Opal walked there, hand-in-hand, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and all the goodness God and Colorado had to offer.

He blinked, and he found himself seated back in the warm cab of his truck, Opal's fingers settling nicely between his. "You were going to tell me how long it's been since you dated," she said quietly.

"Was I?"

"Yes," she said without missing a beat.

Tag sighed, sure he'd have to talk about his past more with Opal. But perhaps he could feed her just a little bit and move on. It was their first date, after all. "I dated a woman named Talina in Green River," he said. "She, uh, it didn't end super well. I wasn't interested in dating when I came here."

"Is that why you took a job at a ranch ten miles from everything, where the only female was already married?"

Tag glanced over to her. "Clearly not every female."

"That you knew of," she shot back. "I didn't come to the farm until West was born."

"I have other ways of meeting women," he said.

"Do tell," Opal teased.

Tag rolled his eyes, though she couldn't possibly see him do that. "I wasn't interested."

"But you are now?"

"Obviously," he mumbled. "What about you? You haven't dated since you've been in Ivory Peaks."

"No," she said, "I haven't."

Tag waited, but she didn't go on. "That's all I get?"

"I dated a lot in California," she said. "But I came here—remember I said I came here to find a different life?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I remember."

"I'm still working on that, and I figured I should probably know what I want before I bring in another person."

Tag let her words mingle in his thoughts. "So we're going out. Does that mean you've come to some conclusions?"

Opal heaved a great sigh. "I mean, kind of? I know I'm not going back to Burbank. Or emergency medicine." She turned away from him, her unhappiness a palpable mood in the truck. "I can't even imagine what my father is going to say about that."

"I've met your daddy," Tag said. "He seems pretty agreeable." Especially for Opal, his only daughter.

"I think I'm more of a country girl than I thought," she said. "I like it here. Mike and Gerty are here. Jane and Cord. I think my next step will be for me to find my own place to live."

"Mm."

"And I'm thinking of maybe asking Hunter about doing something at HMC. I don't know. I don't know if I want a full-time job in the city."

Tag looked over to her. He didn't know every stitch of Hammond family history, but he knew Gerty and Mike had a lot of money. A lot.

He didn't want to ask Opal about her savings, but she hadn't worked in almost a year—since she'd come to the farm to help with West when he was barely a month old. He'd turn a year old at the end of next month, and that was a long time for anyone to go without money coming in.

For all Tag knew, Opal had money coming in. Or maybe her living expenses at the farm were nothing. His weren't much, he knew that.

"I have some other ideas too," she said. "I'm still working through them." She offered him a quick smile then. "But I guess I felt ready enough to try a date now when I didn't before." She looked at him, and with more street lights in a more populous area, he could see her apprehension clearly.

"You know that's why I said no before, right?"

"I didn't know," Tag said roughly.

Opal frowned. "I tried to say—you're the only person who knows I'm not on sabbatical from the ER in Burbank."

"I think you should tell them," he said. "What if I let it slip?"

"In all your talk about my life with Gerty?" She laughed lightly again. "I think it's fine."

"It's not them you're worried about anyway," he said. "Right? It's your parents."

"I'll tell them at the Christmas party, which reminds me." She turned toward him and put her other hand over his. "I need your help planning the party."

"Excuse me?" Tag stared at her for probably a couple of seconds too long. "I am no party planner, honey."

"I need a committee," she said. "And Gerty said I could ask you and Carrie."

"A committee?" He scoffed, The Golden Coop only minutes away now. "How many people are coming to this party?"

"Just our family," she said, and Tag's heart did a nosedive in his chest at the word "our."

"Your parents," he said. "And Easton?"

"I mean the farm family," she said. "My parents, yes. Gerty's parents. Her grandparents. Easton, Allison, and their daughter Violet. Mike, Gerty, and West, of course. Me and you."

She said "me and you" so casually, like they might be a couple, but she didn't want to define such a thing yet.

"Fourteen people," he said. "Does not need a committee."

"It does," she insisted. "There's food to plan, decorations, activities, communications, invitations. I really need more than you and Carrie."

Tag grinned, because she really didn't, and they both knew it. "What would I be over? And it better not be communications, because I'm not texting your daddy about the Christmas party at his own son's farm."

"It's technically Gerty's farm," Opal said, never one to let him get away with something incorrect.

"Oh, excuse me," he teased as he turned into the parking lot at The Golden Coop. "I'm not texting your daddy about the Christmas party at his daughter-in-law's farm." He pulled into an available space and put the truck in park before looking at her, plenty of challenge flowing from him.

"Not communications," she said. "I'll do that. I was thinking…décor."

"Décor," he repeated. "Like, you want me to hang garland and decorate a tree?"

"And coordinate linens for dinner. Maybe get holiday napkins. Put up a wreath, and maybe some mistletoe." She grinned at him, and Tag shook his head.

"Sounds like you've got the décor department worked out."

"Taggart." She spoke with a certain level of irritation and disappointment, and Tag didn't like either.

He unbuckled and got out of the truck. Around on her side, he opened the door and crowded into the space so she couldn't get down. "I'll do the décor on your Christmas party committee."

Tag put one hand on her knee and looked at her. "Okay, honey?"

"Thank you, Tag." She put her hand on his chest, and he backed up enough to let her get out of the truck.

"Now, let's go eat as much chicken as we can. Then, I have tickets to the Imperial Christmas display at the Royal Chinese Gardens."

Opal sucked in a breath. "You do?"

Tag liked that reaction, and he had a horrible thought that perhaps he was coming out too strong on the first date. "Sure do."

"Wow, Tag," she said with plenty of flirtatious vibes in her voice. "You might really get yourself another kiss on the first date."

Without missing a beat, Tag said, "Oh, honey, I sealed that deal when I said I'd be on your Christmas party planning committee."