Page 91 of We Redeemed the Rain

“I know you will, but I don’t want to sleep. I want to be with you.” The words had slipped out before I truly meant to say them. I almost cringed, but when the tiny confession hit my ears, it sounded right. Really right. I loved being with Tag.

He averted his eyes, his gaze roaming aimlessly around the barn hallway for a couple seconds.

It didn’t occur to me that what I said might affect him. But it did. The corners of his eyes got red. And…misty? A pink hue touched his cheeks and he hopped off the table. Keeping his face down and away, conveniently hidden by the rim of his hat, he held his hand out to me. “You ready then?”

I allowed him to assist my eighteen inch drop to the floor. “Ready.”

After clinging a few beats too long, our hands separated.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Bea

Istood at the sink and downed a glass of ice water.

Maybe I wasn’t as stubborn as I thought. Somehow Tag had convinced me to take a nap after lunch because my head had bobbed forward while we ate our sandwiches. I promised I’d only be an hour, but of course, I slept through my alarm. Now here I was, almost three hours later, emerging from hibernation—thirsty and disheveled.

Once hydrated, I charged out to the barn.

Tag had Sawyer clipped in and sat on a bucket, picking his hooves. His back was facing me.

I opened my mouth, but the greeting died on my lips when I noticed the phone wedged between Tag’s shoulder and ear.

I froze. He was talking aboutme.

“The one I wrote letters to back in the day. You remember, right?”

My feet felt cemented to the dirt floor. I couldn’t move.

“Yeah, but we were kids. It was just somethin’ I did to pass the time, I suppose. It didn’t mean…what?” He gave a loud sigh of annoyance. “I swear, this is why I can’t tell you stuff. Ever since you and Jack got your happily ever after, you’ve been all over me about this.” He waited. “Ipromiseyou it’s not what you’re thinkin’. She’s more like an employee right now than a friend.”

An employee?

It was true, I did a lot of employee-like duties and yes, he did in fact cut me a paycheck on payday, despite my profuse protesting, but I woulddefinitelycall Samuel Taggart my friend. Not myboss. Boss-employee wasn’t the vibe we had at all. Why would he even say that?

And who was he talking to?

He stood up. I dashed beyond the wall of the corridor and pressed myself against the aged wood of the barn wall. I heard Tag drag the bucket to Sawyer’s other side. He sighed again, “Randi, come on.”

Randi, his cousin.

There was a long silence as he listened to her.

“She’s nice, yeah, a little underfoot though, I guess.”

Underfoot?

Another long pause.

“How many times do we have to have this conversation? You know how I feel about datin’. If I even had a type, she wouldn’t be it.”

Type.The word felt like a blow to my ribcage, and I struggled to pull in a breath. Tag and I weren’t an item. So it shouldn’t have hurt me to hear him say I wasn’t his type. But my gosh, every hour that went by with him, Iwantedto be an item.

His voice lowered again, and I felt myself instinctively leaning forward to hear better. His voice was agitated, like he was being poked toward rage. “Why not? Well, for starters she’s a guitarist and singer, who hates country music by the way, we have nothing in common. She’s stubborn, loves to talk, and asks a thousand questions every second.” He sighed again, his tone agitated. “I mean, she’s…she’s okay.”

Okay? What does that mean?

His heavy footsteps led away from me, and I heard him slam something down on the tack table. “Alright, fine! I don’t think she’s very pretty. You happy?Damn.”

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