Page 60 of Lost Then Found
All I know is I don’t want to mess it up.
Mom, on the other hand, couldn’t be more excited. She’s been talking about this since the moment I told her Lark and Hudson were coming by. She cried when I showed her the picture of Hudson in his baseball uniform, the one Lark gave me. Stared at it for a long time, running her fingers over it like she could somehow make up for all the years she’s missed in thespace of a single moment.
And now she’s over at Loretta’s, cooking up God knows what. Probably enough food to feed the whole damn county. Loretta’s house sits on the ranch, not far from the main house, close enough that Mom can walk over whenever she pleases—which she does, often, usually with some new recipe idea or a fresh batch of something she insists the ranch hands need to try. Since Loretta cooks for all the ranch hands and staff, her kitchen is better equipped for a feast—which is exactly what Mom had in mind.
A celebration, she called it.
I called it an ambush.
Then she smacked me with a wooden spoon.
I smirk at the memory. Mom’s waited her whole life to be a grandma. She’s not about to waste another second of it. I just hope Hudson’s ready for all of this—once my family sinks their teeth in, there’s no going back.
Lark pulls up in a dark blue 4Runner. It’s clean, no frills—practical but tough. Says a lot without trying too hard. Kind of like her. I stand from the porch, slide my Dodgers cap on backward. It’s partly for Hudson.
Mostly for Lark.
She always did like it that way.
Engine cuts off, and I step forward like I’m going to meet them halfway. But the second she steps out, I stop short.
Shit.
Low-rise jeans, worn in all the right places, cling to her hips like they were made for them. White long-sleeved tee stretched across her chest, sleeves shoved to her elbows. Her braid’s pulled tight down her back, blonde catching in the sunlight like she walked straight out of one of my goddamn memories. There’s a strip of skin showing between her waistband and her shirt—just a sliver. Just enough.
Then I clock the boots.
Those are the same dusty, scuffed-up cowboy boots she wore when we were kids. The ones I remember her kicking up on the dash of my truck, bare legs stretched across the seat like she owned the world.
I rake a hand over my jaw. I’m pretty sure I need to get laid. That’s theonly reason my brain flatlines at the sight of her. Has to be. There’s no way I’m still this far gone over a girl I haven’t touched in over a decade.
She shuts the door, and the way her hips move when she walks—it’s not helping one bit.
Then Hudson barrels toward me, snapping me out of it.
“Boone! Your ranch ismassive!” He’s practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes everywhere at once. “I saw, like, a hundred cows on the way in. And horses. And maybe a goat? Or a really furry dog?”
I chuckle, crouching to his level. “That’s Velma. She’s a goat, but don’t feel bad. She confuses the hell out of everyone.”
Hudson grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “This place is awesome.”
Behind him, Lark’s watching. There’s this quiet look on her face—somewhere between proud and wistful. She catches me looking, but doesn’t look away.
“Want to see the barn?” I ask Hudson, straightening up.
He nods his head, fast. “Duh! Can we go?”
I jerk my chin toward the path. “Let’s go.”
Hudson takes off like he’s got rockets in his sneakers, cutting ahead toward the barn. I slow my pace as I fall into step beside Lark. She glances over, her braid shifting over her shoulder, one hand tucked into her back pocket.
“Thanks for bringing him,” I say, voice low enough that only she can hear.
She snorts. “You don’t have to thank me, Boone. It’s not like I’m handing over my firstborn to a pack of wolves.”
I let out a laugh. “No, just to a pack of Wildings.”
“Hmm.” She hums, tilting her head as if weighing the difference. “You’re right. Some might argue that’s worse.”
