Page 67 of Not Our First Rodeo
“You’re good at this,” I tell him.
He turns so his body is facing me, a question in his eyes.
“Your job,” I clarify.
A laugh rumbles out of him. “Glad to hear it.”
“No,” I say, smiling despite myself. “I’m just happy that you found the thing you were made to do.”
His eyes search mine. “Do you think you found the thing you were made to do?”
When I first started teaching, I would have said no. I would have said I lost the thing I was made to do and this was the closest I could get to it. But now…
“Yeah,” I say, my voice soft. “I think so.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple, his hand landing on my hip and squeezing, sending ricochets of warmth all through my body. “I think so too.”
IpassbyMayain Freckles’s stall when I go searching the ranch for Cooper. She’s brushing the horse down with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from either of them. It brings a smile to my face. She’s still been at the studio before Elsie in the mornings and has worked harder than any other student while rehearsing for the recital, but I’ve found her at the ranch most days also, even when I don’t have time to spare to give her a riding lesson. It makes something tug in my chest, and I know Elsie is feeling relieved by it. She feels like she’s finally made a difference as a teacher.
And I want to celebrate it.
Which is why I’m looking for Cooper. He’s nowhere to be found on the ranch grounds, but I have a suspicion he may have slipped inside the big house for lunch. Cheyenne stopped by earlier today and dropped off sandwiches from the café where she started working a couple weeks ago.
Sweat beads across my brow from the summer heat as I make my way up the porch steps to the big house, and I lift my hat off my head to wipe it away before entering. There are hooks by thedoor for me to hang it, and I kick off my boots. Mom doesn’t like us wearing our work boots inside, and I got punished enough as a kid for it to be drilled into my brain now as an adult.
The house smells like it always does. Like wood polish and fresh air, since Mom always keeps the windows open when the weather is nice. She reserves the AC for the hottest of days. There are slightly wilted wildflowers in a vase on the entry table. I can imagine Ruby picking them while she and Cooper walked over for breakfast one morning.
Deep voices filter down the hall from the kitchen, and I recognize them as Dad’s and Cooper’s. I find them sitting at the breakfast table, one much smaller than the dining table, but still large enough to fit all of us. Cooper has a mostly unfinished deli sandwich on his plate, and Dad’s is full of crumbs.
They look up when I walk in, their conversation stilling, and I look between them, feeling like I just walked in on something. I raise my brows, but Dad just smiles. “Hey, son. Cheyenne’s sandwiches are good. You here for one?”
I nod at my brother. “I was looking for Cooper,” I say. “But I’ll take one.”
Dad’s chair screeches across the floor as he pushes back from the table. “Good, I’ll leave you two to it. I need to get back to work.” He sends Cooper a meaningful look, something tender and even a little proud. “I like your idea, Coop.”
Cooper, to my surprise, flushes the slightest bit, his ears going pink, and he looks down at his hands where they’re folded in his lap. “Thanks, Dad.”
I look between the two of them as Dad exits the kitchen on socked feet. “What was that about?” I ask Cooper when I hear the front door open and shut.
He waves me off with a flick of his wrist and takes a bite out of his sandwich. “Nothing. What’s up?”
I want to press him on it, but his cheeks are still pink and he’s avoiding my gaze, so I let it drop and grab a sandwich from the fridge before sitting across from him at the table. “I need your help.”
He rolls his eyes. “When don’t you need my help?”
Ignoring him, I press on, “Elsie has a big recital coming up in a few weeks. Her first one since becoming a teacher, and she’s been working nonstop.”
“I’m not going to help you convince her she needs to quit working now that she’s in a delicate way, Beau.”
“Would you shut up?” I ask..
This makes him smile. “What do you need?”
My gaze drifts to the table, my heart feeling too full for my chest. “I want her to know we all support her on this,” I tell him, and lift my eyes back up to his.
He’s watching me intently, reading every emotion I’m not bothering to hide.
“It’s been hard for her to transition into teaching, and her parents have been no help, but she loves it. And I just want her to know we’re proud of her.”
