Page 37 of Small Town Frenzy
“I’m ready to be put to work.”
He kisses the top of my sister’s head as he walks to the other side of the table to sit. “I have plenty of that this morning.”
We eat but don’t take long. With the sun rising, it will only get hotter. Fortunately, Sunrise is more compromising now that she’s had her visit with Christine and takes directions as I follow Tagger around to the far field where the cattle have been. We round them up and drive them to undeveloped back acreage. The wildflowers are in full bloom out here. Bluebonnets and prairie fire splash the green landscape with swaths of color.
Cricket Dover shouldn’t come to mind, but there she is, making an appearance with a smile so bright that I can’t stop thinking about her.
Tagger and I stop the horses shy of the fence line near the cliffs and look out across the land. “You played like a pro yesterday,” he says.
I glance over at him. Unlike my brother, who always seems to have something up his sleeve, or an idea that he’s testing for reception, Tagger is straightforward. “I miss it.”
He nods. “Sometimes I miss hearing sirens.” Chuckling, he says, “Who would think I’d be missing New York and the constant noise of the streets?” Sitting back in his saddle, he looks over at me. “I go back occasionally for a meeting or tovisit, and that’s all it takes to cure me. It’s heaven out here in comparison.”
Picking up what he’s dropping down, I get the unsubtle hint. “My body couldn’t handle playing pro ball anymore.” I look out ahead at the view, adjusting the brim of my hat higher on my forehead. “So I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“You always have a choice. You’re just choosing not to go out in flames.”
I chuckle. “I did that the first time.”
“You ever going to talk about what happened?”
“Talking about it never did me any good, Tagger.”
Nightfall sidesteps, anxious to get going again. Animals are in tune with humans, so he’s probably feeding off my energy. Even with a trusted friend by my side, someone who only wants the best for me, I don’t sit in my discomfort for long. I usually book a plane ticket and get out before the feeling has time to settle.
“Did it do you any harm?”
“Drudging up problems from the past and opening old wounds doesn’t sound like a good time to me.” I back my horse away from the view, turning to face the cattle in the distance, chewing on wildflowers and tall grass.
He turns his horse around, sidling closer. With his gaze locked ahead, he says, “One day, you’ll find out that running away from your problems only landed you right back in the middle of them. You can face up to them now or later, but the toll will eventually have to be paid.” He and Nightfall take off running, leaving me stuck with his advice. He’s probably not wrong . . . I know he’s not. But why’d he have to be so right?
We finish up and return the horses to the barn for water and hay, but once that’s done, Tagger says the ranch handshave the rest covered for the day. If I thought baseball was hard, this is about to break me. I forgot how hard this work really is, so I take the opportunity to shower and clean up. I pull on a clean tee, slip my dusty boots back on, and grab my hat before heading out.
I’ve been running away for years, but for the first time, I feel the need to run toward something instead. I get in my truck to see a girl about a date, and if I’m lucky, another kiss in Dover County.
CHAPTER 16
Cricket
“I can’t hangon much longer, Savvy.” My fingers begin to slip, so I slide my back down the wall to get a better grip under the loveseat.
“We shouldn’t have done this,” she says, worry smothering her tone.
“Too late.” I take a breath to help heave it up just a bit more, but I’m failing. “Now we’re wedged here on the stairs. I just know this is how we’re going to die.”
“I love you, cuz, but this isn’t how I’m going down. Death by loveseat isn’t my destiny. I haven’t had the chance to have sex at the stadium?—”
“Ew.” But I see what she means. “Or in a rowboat in the moonlight.”
“Oddly specific, but I’ll allow.” I can see her thinking when she looks up at the ceiling. When her expression reflects her excitement, she says, “I haven’t kissed my soul mate at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Or at midnight at the top of the Empire State Building.”I grin despite my fingers and muscles in my arms aching. “I haven’t . . .” I close my mouth as the weight of guilt sets in.
I can see the strain of concern weaving across her sweat-glistening forehead. “You haven’t what?”
“I haven’t given my son a father.”
She anchors her leg under her end of the small couch with a heavy sigh escaping her. “You can’t beat yourself up over that. Accidents happen, Crick.”
