“Then I’m glad they didn’t cancel it. So she’s okay now?”
“More than okay.” There was a time when it had hurt to talk about his mom. She’d tried so hard to make a life for her boys, and then a guy in a delivery truck hadn’t been paying attention and she’d ended up in a coma. “She finally found a man who appreciates her. My dad obviously didn’t, although I never knew him. I remember Grady’s dad, though, and he was a piece of work. She was well rid of him.”
“So that’s why you and Grady don’t look alike.” Hope squeezed her eyes shut in obvious embarrassment. “I’m sorry. That didn’t need to be discussed. I’m afraid I’ve had too much wine.”
He was touched by her apology. He’d met people who thought nothing of asking rude questions about his and Grady’s parentage. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first person to wonder why we don’t look like brothers. Actually, Grady has my mom’s coloring. Apparently I take after my dad.” Years ago he’d hated that, but it wasn’t something he could change, so he’d decided to accept it.
“Did you ever try to locate your father?” Then she waved her hand as if to erase her words. “Inappropriate question. Forget I asked.”
“I’m glad you asked.” He smiled at her. “It means you’re interested in me.”
“As it happens, I am.”
“So if I arranged a moonlit horseback ride tonight after dinner, you’d be willing to go?”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah.” He gazed into her warm gray eyes. They revealed a depth of emotion that called to him. “I think it will be.”
* * *
LIAM’S PLAN HAD everything going for it except the moon. After dinner at the ranch house, a rambunctious meal during which he exchanged only a few words with Hope, he excused himself to go saddle the horses. The temperature was perfect for an evening ride, but a quick glance at the sky told him he was stuck with a scrawny sliver of a moon that wouldn’t give them much light.
“Want some help getting the horses ready?”
He turned back to see Cade coming down the porch steps. “Sure, thanks.” They started toward the barn, their boots crunching on the gravel. “I was hoping for more moonlight.”
“You may not have much of a moon, but the stars are spectacular.”
“I know. I just don’t want Hope to be spooked because it’s so dark. I get the impression she doesn’t spend a lot of time in nature.”
“Then you’re in an excellent position to introduce her to the great outdoors, Mister Whitewater Rafting Guide.”
“But a full moon would have helped.”
“A full moon always helps, but you don’t happen to have one.”
“So I see.”
Cade chuckled. “Hey, here’s a thought. Ride double. That would be cozy.”
“Don’t know her well enough to suggest that. Nice idea, though.”
“Hey, I’m all about promoting romantic encounters for my brothers.”
“Speaking of romance, what’s up with you and Lexi? Rosie said Lex still has her apartment in town, and you’re living in a brand-new cabin out here.”
Cade sighed. “Yeah, and it’s not optimal. You do know that I’ve handed the decision over to her, right?”
“Hadn’t heard that. I live in Cody. Word doesn’t always travel that far.”
“Maybe that’s a blessing. Anyway, last summer she turned me down flat. So I told her she has to propose to me when she thinks we’re ready for that step.”
“Interesting concept. Do you feel ready?”
“Bro, I feel more ready than you can possibly imagine. But she’s holding off. It’s been subtly suggested that I need to show signs of domesticity.”
“Such as?”
“I think I’m supposed to spruce up the cabin, put pictures on the walls, stuff like that. Maybe buy a fancy holder for extra toilet paper, hang a sun catcher in the living room window. Cook some meals there. I never use the kitchen.”
Liam couldn’t help smiling. “For what it’s worth, my mother had that kind of discussion before she agreed to marry my stepfather. They trade off cooking the meals and cleaning the house. I know you can clean. Rosie made us all do it.”
“I can and I will. But I can’t cook worth a damn, and choosing artwork is not my area.”
“Not mine, either, but it’s Grady’s. Get him to help you find some stuff while he’s here.”
“Great idea.”
“And cooking just takes practice.”
Cade blew out a breath. “I suppose. I hate wasting food I ruined, but I hate not being married to Lexi even more, so I might as well burn some lasagna for the cause.” He slid back the bar holding the barn’s double doors. “Am I right that you and Hope have never gotten around to dating, even though you both live in Cody?”
“We have not.”
“Then I guess we need to make sure this evening ride is extra special. You could take a couple of our nifty battery-operated lanterns and hang one on each saddle horn. There should be some spares in the tack room.”
Liam breathed in the nostalgic mix of scents—horses, oiled leather and fresh straw. He’d missed this. “I noticed a lantern in our cabin, on the shelf where we used to keep the flashlights. How come? Don’t the kids all have flashlight apps on their phones?”
“I’m sure they do. But we found out real quick that if we let them keep their phones, we’d get nowhere.” Cade put the lanterns, constructed to look like old-fashioned kerosene ones, by the barn door. Then he and Liam transferred the necessary tack out to the hitching post.
“Couldn’t they just turn their phones off?”
“Oh, sure.” Cade handed Liam a lead rope, and they headed for the stalls. “We tried that. They’d shut them off during class, but every break they were texting and checking their social media.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve had kids on my rafting trips carrying on because they couldn’t get a signal. They’ve missed seeing an eagle or a bull moose because they were fiddling with their phones.”
“I feel your pain. And it wouldn’t be so bad if it only affected the breaks between classes, but that’s not the case. They have trouble concentrating during the next class with all that junk in their heads. So now Rosie keeps all the phones at the house, and every night they get thirty minutes of phone time.”
“That’s strict. Do they pitch a fit?”
“You know, I thought for sure they would, but so far, no. We tested it on the first group in January, and after the shock of withdrawal, they seemed a lot less stressed. They’re relieved of the responsibility of constantly updating their status.”
“Bingo. Who came up with the solution?”
“Rosie, of course. She was willing to gamble that the kids would actually enjoy a break from their phones. New students are warned of the policy in advance, and nobody’s canceled because of it.”
“Some parents might enroll their kids just for that.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” He paused in front of adjoining stalls. “If you’ll take Navarre out first, I’ll follow with Isabeau.”
“Got it.” He spoke gently to the gelding as he went inside, clipped the lead rope on his halter and walked him out of the stall.
“These two have benefitted from having the students here,” Cade said as he followed with Isabeau. “Rosie and Herb weren’t riding them much, and now they get plenty of attention and exercise on a daily basis.”
“Looks like everybody’s benefitting from the academy.” He tied Navarre to the hitching post and picked up a brush to give the horse a quick grooming. “Rosie and Herb seem ten years younger. They need teenagers around.”
“And as a bonus, these kids are mostly well-adjusted.”
“Unlike us?” He worked through the familiar routine of saddling Navarre in the glow of the dusk-to-dawn light hanging over the barn door. Because he’d been trained years ago, he didn’t have to think about it much.
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