Page 45 of Ember Meadow
His eyes widen, smile faltering just a bit. I don’t let him overthink what’s happening before pushing on his chest until he falls over into the grass with a thud.
“What the hell, Mac?” He laughs from the ground, wheatgrass outlining him in a shine of sunlight like a halo around the contrast of his dark waves. I laugh, turning to run away, but I’m not quick enough. Miles reaches up and grabs my calf, pulling me down with him.
I topple down next to him, the golden grass framing the pink cotton candy clouds of the sunset in the sky above us. We lay next to each other, catching our breaths, faces sore from smiling. Neither of us willing to say anything and pop this bubble.
The glow gets brighter and brighter until the sun finally dips mostly behind the gray mountain and it goes back to the usual muted yellow of golden grass. As soon as it goes away, I miss it. I have to come back and see it again.
Once the sky turns from a fiery yellow to twilight blue, Miles stands up, reaching a hand out to me to help me to my feet. I dust myself off the best I can but I’m sure I still have a fair amount of wheatgrass in my hair.
“We’re just a stone’s throw from the cabin. So you don’t have to ride back in the dark. I can take both horses back from here–”
I cut Miles off with a hug neither of us are expecting. He stands as stiff as a ruler for a few seconds, then eventually gives in just a little bit, one arm wrapping around my waist.
“Thanks for taking me here,” I whisper into his chest. We are so close. Closer than we have been in four years. Dangerous territory. And he’s not exactly hugging me back. His other arm sits firmly at his side, back stiffer than a board.
Great, I’ve made him uncomfortable. I pull away quickly, trying to hide the pink tinge of my cheeks.
I don’t get far enough to see his face before he pulls me right back in. My heart races as I’m enveloped with Miles’s signature cedar smell. He pulls me into his chest, which is a lot harder than I remember, his beard scratching into my hair.
He’s holding me close, like if he lets go even a little bit, I’ll slip right out of his arms. I get the feeling Miles isn’t a big hugger. The last thing I want to do is spook him. I don’t dare move a muscle. I hug him back, as tight as I possibly can while I have the chance.
And then, something utterly terrifying happens. As I stand in Miles Autry’s arms, in the middle of a field in Wyoming, so far out of my comfort zone I can’t even see it from here, my heart sighs and the wind whispers the wordhome.
Chapter 16
I’ll Marry You
I’ve always been anextrovert. That’s probably part of the reason I got along so well with Hazel. We’re like yin and yang. I do the talking when her social battery is depleted, or pull her out of her comfort zone when she needs it. She talks through things with me when I need her logical, overthinking brain to help me figure things out instead of going off like a bomb every time I’m upset.
I can’t count how many times I’ve dragged her out of her house, away from her stress-inducing spreadsheets, and into some random dive bar when she’s getting overwhelmed. One of my favorite things to watch is Hazel starting to come back to life under the glow of some neon lights, french fries on her plate and not a care in the world.
The only thing is, I’m always the one to extend the invite to go out. I don’t mind it, Hazel is always the one to text when we have a girl’s night in at the ranch, or go on a horseback ride. But when we go out? That’s all me.
They say how you recharge shows if you’re an extrovert or an introvert. I recharge when I’m around people. Talking to my friends takes a weight off of my chest. Checking in with Aunt Millie resets my mood. Being alone just makes me sad at best, anxious at worst.
So when I open my phone to a text from Parker, I’m pleasantly surprised.
Parker
Coffee?
I shoot back a quick yes, opening my closet with a giggle of glee. A hike with the girls and now coffee with my favorite cowpoke on the ranch? How did I get so lucky?
Ten minutes later I’ve got on a black denim vest, red cowgirl boots, my favorite pair of flared jeans, my hair thrown up into a ponytail tied with a bandana and I’m out the door. And, to think, Hazel tried telling me I wouldn’t need half of my wardrobe for one summer of renovating a cabin in Wyoming.
It’s mid-morning when I sit down at a high top table at my new favorite coffee shop in Jackson Hole. Parker saunters into the warm glow of the cafe’s low hanging lights just after I take my first sip of caramel latte. The first sip of coffee and the happiness it brings should be studied. He gives me a quick wave before placing his order at the counter.
Parker slides into the wooden barstool across the table from me, depositing his cowboy hat on the wall hook next to us. Western towns. They always have a place to hang your hat and tie up your horse, like it’s 1855.
“Hey there, Idaho.”
“Hi, cowboy.”
Parker’s smile grows that much more as he gives me a wink, combing through his light brown hair with his fingers. I’m certain he’s always smiling. His cheek muscles must be jacked.
“I’m loving the whole Canadian tuxedo look,” he gestures to my outfit. I give him a little hair flip, which makes him laugh. “We should have coordinated outfits, I’m halfway there.”
Parker’s blue jeans are significantly less dusty today. It must be his day off at the ranch or something. Instead of a plaid, pearl snap button shirt like usual, he’s got on a plain white t-shirt and a tan corduroy jacket. Definitely not ranching attire.
