Chapter Eleven

Brayden

I wake up the next morning feeling like it's Christmas Day. Like I have a whole pot of coffee racing through my veins. It takes until I'm in the shower to realize why.

Nina is coming to the ranch.

I shouldn't feel this excited. I haven't even hired her yet, and I shouldn't entertain the idea of her working here, even though I can already tell she'll fit in just fine. I can't help thinking of how she'll be around Hazel, and how she'll be around my mom. I can picture the three of them in the kitchen, bringing a new energy to a house that's seen too much tragedy over the past decade.

I believe Nina is the one who can change everything, and that's what makes all of this so wrong.

Because I never thought that of Jordy.

Don't get me wrong, I love Jordy. But she was never one to shoot the shit in the kitchen with my mom, or even want to hang out on the ranch at all. We both blame my dad for the fact that she's never moved in here, but neither one of us fought for it. I'm still not sure how I feel about her moving to be closer to me. But if we're planning a life together, it probably is a good idea to spend more time together.

Which is also why hiring Nina isn't the best idea, because I'm way more excited about Nina working here than my girlfriend living about ten minutes away.

I towel dry, then take my time shaving to ensure a close shave. Cherokee is lying at my feet, patiently waiting for me to leave the room so he can eat, but I take the time to slap on some aftershave, then check my reflection.

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" I say to Cherokee, who only tilts his head in reply. This is high school shit here. It's like I'm getting ready for a date with the prom queen, and each second is five seconds too long.

Wearing my favorite blue flannel and a pair of jeans, I take the stairs two at a time and head to the kitchen, my dog trailing close behind. There are no guests today since it's Wednesday, so my mom is sitting at the table with a piece of toast and her usual cup of coffee, a book in her hand. It's one of those romances she loves to read, and I glance at the title.

" For the Birds ," I read aloud, and she puts the book down. "Any good?"

"Very," she says, "though it's taking forever for the main characters to realize they're in love, even though they're obviously made for each other."

I give Cherokee his breakfast, he dances in front of me until I place his bowl on the floor. I pour coffee into my favorite mug, the green one Hazel gave me a few years back that says, "I'm kind of a big dill" with a picture of a pickle on it. There's a plate of muffins off to the side of the coffee pot, and I snag one, then take the seat across from my mom.

"I have a possible new hire coming in," I say, then take a bite of the muffin. "Fuck, these are good."

"Thanks. Hopefully this person is better than the last one that came in. She actually told me she didn't do dishes."

"Well, this one is Jordy's cousin."

My mom gives me a wary look, and I know exactly what she's thinking.

"That's not why I'm thinking of hiring her," I assure her. "You know that. This is the family business, not a favor factory. But I have a good feeling about her. She has experience, is easy to get along with, and I think you'll really like her."

"Well, what's her name?"

"Nina Chance," I say. I pull out her application, which I had her fill out before I dropped her and Jordy back off at the house. I happened to have a bunch in my car, and figured we might as well make this official.

My mom looks it over, then zeroes in on her horse experience.

"Oh, she trained under Natalie," she says. Then I see her face fall, knowing she's reading the dates she was here. Ten years ago, when everything went to hell. "I always liked Natalie," is all Mom says, but I know she's thinking of a strawberry blonde girl who is gone, but never forgotten.

"Morning," Hazel says, almost on cue. I turn to my younger sister as she comes in the kitchen and swipes the rest of my muffin right from my hand.

"Stinker," I say, then wrap her up in my arms while she squeals, my stolen muffin falling in crumbs out of her mouth.

"Brayden, you're making a mess." Even as she says it, my mom is starting to get up to grab a rag to clean it up.

"It's not me, it's Hazel," I say, giving her a noogie while she fights to break free, laughing the whole time .

"Bear, my hair!" she cries. She finally escapes, then smooths her hair, peering at her reflection in the window as she does. "Who's that?"

I glance outside, and my heart skips a beat as I see a familiar ocean-haired head emerge from an old Cadillac.

"Wow, I love her hair," Hazel breathed. "Mom, we should do that to my hair."

My mom looks outside too, and I suddenly realize how country bumpkin we all look, staring out the window as if Nina is our first visitor in years.

"Come on, get away from the window," I say, blocking Hazel's view as I stand in front of her. "We don't want to weird her out before she even meets you."

"Is she the new hire?" Hazel asks, pouring coffee in a travel mug. She tops it with a healthy dose of sweet cream before grabbing her backpack from the corner.

"Possibly. It's why I asked her to come so early. I thought it would be nice for her to meet you before you take off for school. Can you hang out for a few minutes?"

"I can blow off the whole day, if necessary," she says, setting her backpack on a chair, then sitting with her coffee.

"No you can't," my mom says, and I wink at Hazel as she groans.

"In just a few short months, you'll be done with high school, and you might even miss it," I say, just as there's a knock on the door. I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop pounding, trying to appear nonchalant as I go to the door.

"Doubtful," Hazel calls after me.

I open the door, and there she is. If I thought she looked irresistible in her short skirts and heeled boots, it's nothing compared to the way she fills out a pair of jeans. I lean forward to give her a hug, my head feeling lighter as I inhale the perfume of her skin. So womanly and fresh, making me want to grab her around the waist and pull her body into mine. Instead I invite her inside.

"Nina, this is my sister Hazel, and my mom Angela."

"You can call me Ang," my mom says, standing and holding her hand out across the table. Nina shakes it, and I can sense her shyness. They're going to love you, I want to tell her. As she does the same with my sister, I realize what this feels like. It's almost as if I'm introducing my new girlfriend to the family.

"I love your hair," Hazel says to Nina, and doesn't even ask before she reaches out and takes a lock of Nina's hair in her hands. "How long does this take you to do?"

"Not long." Nina leans closer to give Hazel a better look. "I mean, my hair is totally ruined now, but that just means it takes color better. It helps that my natural color is blonde, so I don't have to bleach it, and I just use washout color because I get bored of wearing the same color every week."

Soon all three of them are engrossed in hair talk—what it will take to change Hazel's hair. and if my mom's fading strawberry hair should actually be purple. Nina even helps clear the table as they talk, and I'm left off to the side while they forget I'm here. I smile, remaining out of it until Hazel finally breaks away and grabs her bag.

"I like her," she whispers, then slips out the door.

I do too.

The sound of wheels on hardwood makes me turn, and I tilt my head as my dad rolls to the threshold of the kitchen.

"Oh, you need to meet Nina," my mom says, guiding Nina out with her hand at her back like they're already great friends. "Pete, this is Nina, she's the new hire."

I look sharply at my mom, who widens her eyes, but looks amused at the slip. "If she wants to work here, that is," my mom adds, even though I'm the one who's in charge of hiring. But I'm not arguing.

"Really?" Nina looks to me, then back at my mom. Then she looks at my dad and collects herself. "Hi, I'm Nina," she says. She doesn't stare at my dad's wheelchair, or even seems affected by his handicap at all. Instead she crosses the room and offers her hand, just like she did to my mom and sister.

My dad, however, is a hard nut to crack. I realize I should have warned Nina, especially when he grunts in her direction. He can speak, no problem. There's nothing wrong with his mind. But ever since the accident, it's like his manners broke with his spine. At least he shakes Nina's hand, but then he rolls forward, forcing Nina to jump out of the way.

"Don't mind him," I whisper into her ear, and she shivers before grinning at me. Her smile is like a thousand sun rays in our already bright kitchen.

As my dad takes the rest of the coffee, I lead Nina away to show her the parts of the house she'll need to know along with the things that will be under her care, because let's face it, she got the job. My mom will go into more detail when she starts tomorrow, but at least I can give her a tour of the ranch.

The early morning fog still hugs the tree line behind the cabins when I bring her outside. I'm usually caught up in the beauty of these early mornings, but today I can't help noticing the slope of Nina's neck, the small wisps of hair escaping her messy bun, or the way she bites her bottom lip when she's paying attention, her teeth like pearls resting on a plush rose petal. The urge to press my lips to hers—to learn what it feels like if she nips my lips in the same way—is so intense, I feel like I'm white knuckling an addiction.

"It's so darling," she says of the cabin, as I stand in the doorway, watching her survey the room. It's just like a small studio apartment, with everything in it except a kitchen, but all I see is the bed and how good it would feel to lay her down and cover her body with mine.

This is a problem, but I'll learn to move beyond it. The only other option is to let her go, to continue my search for the perfect house manager. But that's not really an option because the thought of not seeing her every day is worse than knowing I'll be fighting my attraction to her on a daily basis.

"Ready to see the horses?" I ask, because I can't be in this room with her much longer. She beams at me, and I can see the younger version of her, the one I wish I knew way back when she was on the ranch, and I didn't even know her because I was away at college, drowning in my grief.

"Can I see Meredith?" she asks, her blue eyes shining with hope.

"I don't know if we'll have time," I say. "There's a lot of work to do and—" I stop when I see the way she's hiding her disappointment, then grin. "Of course we can, I'm teasing."

She smacks my arm. "You can't do that!" she laughs. "I'm extremely gullible and I'm bound to believe everything you say."

"I'll be more careful," I tease, but I also take a mental note, because for her to say she trusts me is a huge deal. Her whole family has let her down, and she still has the ability to trust. Whatever I do, I can't take that away from her.

We reach the barns, and the horses nicker lightly upon hearing our footsteps, noses peeking out from stalls. Nina watches as I hoist a flake of hay into each stall, but soon joins me once she sees how I do it. I'm surprised, as the hay is almost half her body size. But the girl is stronger than I thought, and not afraid to get dirty. I can't help thinking of how Jordy would be in this situation. She wouldn't even be out here, not willing to get her high heels dirty because work boots are not part of her wardrobe. And according to her, hay makes her skin itchy. But here's Nina, hay showering all over her as she miscalculates her aim and hits the top of the stall .

"I thought I had that one," she says as I stoop to help her. Our heads are close together, and when she looks up it takes my breath away. I see the flicker in her eyes, a bridled fire that makes me want to forget the hay as I learn exactly how she tastes. I look down at her lips, which she parts slightly. All I'd have to do is lean a few inches closer, to claim her honey mouth, to show her everything I've been holding back since that first day we met.

She moves back, breaking the spell as she scoops hay into her arms and does her best to fling it into the stall. I pull myself together and help, though we're making more of a mess than a solution. The horse doesn't mind, though, nibbling at the pieces that land on her door, then reaching her long neck out to find the ones in Nina's hair.

"Hey," she laughs, her hand flying to shield her hair. I move closer and pick out the pieces I can. My hand stills at the first touch of her hair, at the lush softness, at the tantalizing urge to tangle her hair between my fingers. This time when our eyes meet, there's a question in hers—a dangerous one. What will you do with me?

Everything .

I find the last piece of hay, then drag my hands away, stuffing them in my pockets so I don't cross the boundaries I want to shatter.

"Here they are," I say instead, leading her to the last two stalls in the barn. Meredith pokes her head out, followed by Sara in the stall next to hers. Nina gasps, then cautiously moves forward, her hand finding the top of Meredith's nose.

"Hey girl," she murmurs, pressing her lips to the terracotta mare's soft muzzle and then inhaling. "I forgot how sweet horses smelled," she says to me, and I think I see tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask, and she quickly swipes at her eyes.

"I'm fine. I just…" She pauses, offering a shaky smile, then turning back to Meredith. "When I came here, it was because my grandmother thought the horses could be therapeutic for me. She wa s right, and I guess I didn't realize just how much until I saw Meredith here."

So she came here for healing. I don't ask her about it, because I have my own reasons why this ranch means so much to me. Even though I'll never be fully healed, the ranch saved me. Sara saved me. I'd ride Sara across the white sands of the beach, trying to race faster than my pain. I never could run fast enough. But it's like Sara absorbed everything I couldn't put into words, holding my pain as she carried me down the beach.

The thought of it now inspires a new image in my head—one of Nina riding next to me, her turquoise hair flying in the wind, her face flushed as we run the horses on an empty morning beach.

"Want to go for a ride?"