Page 180 of Westin

I’m leaning on the paddock behind the barn. Gracey had a foal a year ago, a stallion with a blaze down its nose. They stand at the crest of the hill, tails switching, mist rising around their feet as they forage. At my feet, Billie sits with her chin rested on my boot.

Everything is so still. The fields are rich with tall grass already. We’ll have a good haying season.

Last spring, unexpectedly, Sovereign gave me another strip of land, bringing the property line even closer to his ranch house. I think that was his plan all along—to meld the farms as closely as he can. That way, we can have our separate homes, but nothing changes all that much.

A door slams behind me. I turn, squinting against the sun. Matthew Hewitt’s truck is parked next to mine. The door opens, and he steps out, putting his hat on. He’s a quiet, bearded man withsilver hair. Last spring, he showed up at the house and asked if I minded if he proposed to my mother. I said I was happy to give my blessing and a few acres of land as well. During the summer, with Jensen’s help, we built a house over the hill for them to live.

Everything is good now. The world is peaceful.

I start down the hill, Billie running ahead to jump on Matthew. He digs around in his pocket and comes up with a crushed biscuit. She takes her prize and flops down on the porch.

“Here to pick up the little one,” Matthew says, shaking my hand.

“Is she spending the day with you?” I ask.

He nods. “Eve called early this morning and talked to Diane,” he says. “Wants me to take them into town for the fair. You all are welcome to tag along.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got a full day of work, but thanks.”

We step into the cool front hallway. I take my hat off and hang it up, dusting off my hands. From deep inside the house comes a soft patter. It comes closer, full pelt, and then my daughter veers around the corner and throws herself against my leg. My heart warms as I bend down and pick her up, hoisting her on my shoulders.

I never thought anybody could get me as wrapped around their little finger as Diane did. Then along came Allison Lilly Quinn. Curly blonde hair like my wife. I hope to God she doesn’t have an ounce of me in her, but time will tell.

She digs her damp, sticky hands into my hair as I carry her to the kitchen. Diane is at the counter, packing a picnic basket. She’s just as pretty as the day I met her, maybe more—golden hair braided down her back, skirt tucked around her belt, long legs and feet bare.

“Matthew’s here for Allison,” I say.

She looks up, offering her mouth for a quick kiss. I set our daughter on the floor, and she scampers around me to jump into Matthew’s arms. He laughs, patting her on the back.

It means a lot to me that he’s the person my mother chose to be a grandfather to my little girl. He’s a good man; I’ve never heard a harsh word from his lips. He has got endless patience with Allison, and anything my mother wants, she gets.

My daughter will grow up never knowing my father. That’s the way I want it.

“Eve made her a dress for the fair,” Matthew says. “Pink, lots of frilly stuff around the edge.”

“That sounds about right,” I say.

“Just make sure she wears her sunscreen,” says Diane. “And her hat, or her hair will bleach white.”

We pack my stepfather and my little girl into the truck along with the picnic basket. Then, I stand with my arm around my wife’s waist as she waves goodbye. The crunch of the truck’s tires fade away until we’re left in silence. I bend to kiss her temple, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.

“What’s your plan for the day?” she asks.

I slide my hand lower to grab her ass. “Thought I might fuck my wife.”

She steps back, gathering her skirt in one hand. Her head tilts. A little blonde curl grazes her cheek.

“Maybe if you can catch me,” she says.

She hitches up her dress and takes off, running towards the barn. Diane is quick, running through the fields with our daughter every day, but my legs are long enough that I know I can catch up to her. I still let her think she’ll win, just for the fun of it.

She dashes into the cool of the barn, and I follow, not breaking a sweat, just in time to see her scramble up the hayloft and disappear. I catch the top of the ladder and swing up. She’s at the far end, a little glitter in her eyes as she backs against the wall.

I take a step closer. She bites her lip.

She tries to dart around me, but my arm shoots out and snags her waist, throwing her down into the soft straw. My body falls over hers, and she gives up, palms open. She didn’t have much fight in her anyway.

I kiss her neck, then down where the neckline of her dress gives me a glimpse of her breasts.

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