The Rancher's Wife. April Arrington
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blotches broke out on Amy’s neck, marring her clear skin. She smoothed her hands over her blouse and sat straighter in the passenger seat. “I’m happy for him,” she whispered.
She would be. When she’d first arrived at Raintree, Logan recognized right off that Amy shared the same wild streak as Dominic. It hadn’t taken long for Amy to begin regarding Dominic as a brother and Dominic was equally fond of Amy.
Logan frowned. He’d always been pleased with Amy’s close connection with Dominic but after his own friendship with Amy eroded, Logan found himself envious of her bond with his younger brother. Which was ridiculous. More of the irrational behavior Amy inspired in him.
“I called Dom last night,” Logan said. “Asked him to let everyone know we were running behind. He said Betty was excited to see you. Said she couldn’t stop smiling.”
Amy tucked a strand of raven hair back into her topknot. “I’m looking forward to seeing her, too. It’ll be a good visit.”
Logan glanced in the rearview mirror at Traci. She bent deeper over the cell phone in her hands and her fingers flew over the screen. Her music blared, the rhythmic bass pumping past the earbuds.
“Betty never mentioned anything to me about you moving to Michigan,” he murmured. “You haven’t told her your plans, have you?”
“Not yet.” Amy twisted her hands in her lap. “But I will. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to upset her at Thanksgiving.”
He scoffed. “You think Christmas would be a better occasion?”
“No.” She sighed. “But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her over the phone. I will, though. When the time’s right.”
“Augusta is far enough. Michigan will feel like the other side of the world to her. You’re gonna break her heart, Amy,” he said, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He eyed Traci again. “Your sister’s, too.”
“They’ll understand. They’ll be happy for me.”
“Knowing you’re thinking of moving clear across the country won’t make them happy.” Logan grimaced. It sure didn’t sit well with him. “No one that cares about you would be happy hearing that.”
“What would you have me do, Logan?” Amy glanced over her shoulder at her sister before whispering, “Stay in limbo with you forever? The opportunity came and I took it. I have to move on at some point. We both do.”
Her argument was sane and sensible. The kind he should agree with and understand. But he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.
Logan palmed the steering wheel roughly and took a right turn onto the long dirt drive of Raintree Ranch. He lifted his foot from the pedal as the truck dipped into a pothole, sloshing muddy water against the sides of the cab. Fragmented patches of white speckled Raintree’s sprawling fields. The late-afternoon sun that had melted most of the ice hung low on the horizon and night loomed closer with every minute.
Amy’s pants legs rustled as she sat taller, craning her neck and looking out at their surroundings. Logan took the next turn through a gated entrance and she braced her hands on the dash, swiveling to glance over her shoulder at Raintree’s wooden sign as they passed. The sweet scent of her shampoo released with her movements, lingering around him and making him ache.
They traveled past the large stables, barn and paddocks lined with white fencing and the multi-storied main house emerged into view. Logan smiled. The white columns and wide front porch were already adorned with garlands, wreaths and bows for the holidays. Betty must have decided to decorate early for Amy’s return.
A tender expression crossed Amy’s features. Logan’s chest warmed. No matter what she said, Amy had missed Raintree. Her longing for their childhood home showed in every sweet curve of her face.
“It still looks the same,” she said.
The gentle look in her eyes faded as the truck drew closer to the house. Her mouth tightened. She eased back in the passenger seat, shoulders sagging.
“Nothing’s changed.” Amy trailed her hands away from the dashboard and dropped them in her lap, fingers twisting together.
A heaviness settled in Logan’s arms. “Yes, it has. Everything has been different since you left. For all of us.” He covered her smaller hands with his palm and squeezed. “Please think this move over. Before you make a final decision.”
She slid away from his touch. “The decision’s already been made.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s for the best.”
“Amy—”
“The twins are out,” Traci shouted over her music, perking up and dragging her feet from the console.
Logan released a harsh sigh, bringing the truck to a halt and removing the keys from the ignition. Two blond boys scrambled over the ground at the end of the drive, gathering up what was left of the sleet and packing it into muddy balls.
“Hide everything you value and get your armor on, Amy,” Traci said, yanking out her earbuds and shoving them along with her cell phone into her bag.
“Are they that bad?” Amy asked, a hesitant smile peeking through her tight expression.
Logan grinned. “Nah. They’re just being boys.”
“Yeah, right,” Traci drawled. “Tell me that the next time they break my phone. Or take my bras and use them for slingshots. Or draw plans for their fort on my homework—”
“All right, Traci.” He laughed, muscles relaxing. “I know they’ve done you wrong a time or two but they do it with love.”
Traci harrumphed and shoved her door open.
“That’s one warped way to look at it,” she grumbled good-naturedly, jumping out and taking swift strides up the dirt drive.
The boys noticed Traci approaching and stilled. A huddle, quick whisper and nod later, they advanced, surrounding her and pelting her with their icy bundles.
“Stop it, squirts,” Traci squealed, “or I’ll smooch you into oblivion.”
Traci swooped down with open arms, bag flopping over one shoulder, and chased them. One twin escaped but she caught the other, scooping up the wriggling boy and plastering noisy kisses all over his face.
“Yuck!” The escapee ran several feet across the mud and jerked to a halt at Logan’s open door. He scowled, jabbing a dirty finger in Traci’s direction. “Look what Traci’s doing to Jayden, Uncle Logan. Tell her to stop.”
Logan stifled a laugh. Leave it to Kayden. He was always the first to point the finger of blame.
“Come on, now,” Logan said. “You can’t go on the attack, then cry for help. Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
“I ain’t did no dishing,” Kayden argued. He paused, forehead scrunching before saying, “I didn’t do any dishing.”
“That sounds better,” Logan praised.
Kayden nodded. “Aunt Cissy don’t like us using no double negatives.” He climbed onto the truck’s running board and leaned into his hands on Logan’s thigh. “Anyways, I ain’t did no dishing. We were just throwing snowballs.”
“There’s no snow out here, buddy.” Logan ruffled his golden hair. “Y’all were throwing ice.”
“So.” Kayden shrugged. “It’s white.”
“Unlike a friendly snowball, ice hurts and I’m sure Traci felt a twinge or two. Both of you owe her an apology.”
“Yes, sir.” Kayden rolled his eyes, the blue pools skimming over Logan then narrowing on Amy. “Is that her?”
Logan turned, absorbing the warm look Amy directed at Kayden, and smiled. “Yeah. This is your aunt Amy.”