Second Chance Ranch Chapter 8

Chapter EIGHT:

Squire couldn’t sleep. The walls of his cabin kept his thoughts and worries so close. He wanted to call Kelly, just to hear her voice over the line. No amount of cocoa butter lotion had been able to soothe him, and with the softest hands he’d had in years, he slipped out of bed and pulled on his boots.

Once he reached the stables, he clucked his tongue for Juniper. She appeared a moment later, Hank right behind her. He wore gym shorts, so Squire carried their apples in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, grateful neither horse questioned him for his midnight visit. They crunched through their treats, their swishing tails bringing him comfort in the strangest way. His mind wandered, no longer contained by walls.

He thought back to his conversation with Kelly as they’d walked to the picnic. He’d hoped if he could get her to the park, she’d come with him. But her hesitance had poured from her in waves. Squire had some intelligence, and he’d walked away with a straight back. When he finally got the courage to look behind him, he’d found only an empty street.

Hank nudged his thigh, reminding Squire of his confession that he had no one here that needed him. Intellectually, he knew that wasn’t true. His parents were relying on him more than they even knew.

God must need you here. Kelly’s words echoed through his head. If she was right—and Squire desperately wanted to believe her—he wished God would let him know how to be the most useful.

He stroked the horses for a few more minutes before going back to his cabin, where sleep finally claimed him in the early morning hours.

* * *

The next morning, he arrived in Kelly’s office before she did. The view from her window offered a slightly different angle than his. The door to the building slammed, and Squire instinctively ducked his head, his forehead meeting the glass with a sharp thunk.

Equal parts frustration and foolishness bubbled in his system, giving the bump a pulse all its own.

Kelly’d already seen his limp, shown her horror at his war stories. He didn’t need her pity for his PTSD too. He straightened at the sound of her delicate footfalls and prayed for patience.

“Squire,” she gasped, coming to a stop just inside her office. “You scared me.”

He turned from the window, his heart still doing a double-time beat in his chest. “It’s only eight-thirty,” he said as he took in her tight jeans and sleeveless blouse. The crimson made her hair look lighter, more like wheat than honey. “Why are you here so early?”

“Finn slept late,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. “So I didn’t have any reason to hang around the house this morning.”

He nodded and joined her at the wall of filing cabinets behind her desk. “What are you looking for?” He took a deep breath, trying not to let her tropical scent distract him from the work they needed to accomplish.

“Anything I can find,” she said, giving him a full appraisal. Her eyes roamed his face, filled with concern. Attraction sparked inside Squire, but he extinguished it with a bucketful of memories of him hiding on the sidelines of the prom.

“You look tired,” she said.

“You told me our ranch has five years of missing income documents.” He ground his teeth together, the way he’d been doing for the past twelve hours. “So no. Not much sleeping happened last night.”

“Did you say anything to your dad?”

Squire shook his head, his mind rattling with a thousand different ways to start that conversation. “I want to tell him when we have good news, not bad.”

“What if we never have good news?” Kelly looked into his eyes, somehow right past all his emotional defenses. Right through him, like she always had. She fiddled with the collar of his shirt, fixing it flat. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch and close his eyes to capture the memory forever.

“Don’t talk like that, Kel.” He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he was in a position to touch her. He hadn’t been a decade ago as his sister’s younger brother, and he wasn’t now as a broke cattle rancher who didn’t even know how his ranch generated revenue. He’d never felt so inadequate, even with her decade of silence and seeming nonchalance about how she’d treated him.

“I like it when you call me Kel.” She gave him a closed-mouthed smile and returned to her filing cabinet drawers.

He pulled open a drawer and peered inside. Jam packed with files, his heart pretzeled into a painful knot. “Oh, darlin’.”

“I know,” she said. “Pull out anything that looks like it could be related to sales, income, herd size, calving, or anything else you can think of that would be money coming in to the ranch.”

He thumbed through a couple of folders that were labeled Medical 2007. “Do you think that’s where the lost money is?” he asked. “We haven’t had income?”

“No.” Kelly turned back to her desk, where several thick files lay. “These are the tax files for the past five years.” She flipped open the top folder. “Look. Hector reported an income of almost two hundred thousand dollars last year. I don’t know where he got that number.”

She rustled the papers, making an angry sound with her fingers. “There’s no attached documentation. It’s a miracle you haven’t been audited.”

Sharp fear pinched his stomach. “A miracle,” he murmured, feeling untethered to the ground, like gravity had stopped pulling on him. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for the lack of an audit.

“We have to find the missing income statements,” she said. “We have to keep accurate taxes for seven years in case of an audit.” She went back to her filing drawer, her jaw set and her eyes determined.

That strange sensation—forgiveness—stretched his mind, moving him away from the past and anchoring him in the here-and-now. Focusing him on the Kelly in front of him, blurring the one who’d injured him.

Squire liked that she’d been an employee of the ranch for three days and yet spoke like she was part of the “we” that was in trouble. He admired her determination and the way her sharp eyes searched with exactness.

He turned his attention to the files. He didn’t know what to do. Helplessness poured through him as he wondered how long it would take to go through these drawers. Weeks, maybe. He took a deep breath, considering what he could control. He had nothing but time. The extended tax deadline wasn’t until October.

He’d once played a football game with a separated shoulder. He’d driven a tank through the deserts of Kandahar. He’d once carried his best friend, Pete, on his back after they’d taken an indirect hit in Afghanistan.

He could find a few missing files, especially if he could keep Kelly by his side during the operation. “Let’s do this,” he said.

* * *

By lunchtime, his shoulders ached, a sharp pain shot through his lower back on the right side, and his hands looked like they’d been dipped in dust-coated cobwebs. His slacks had gray streaks on them from where he kept trying to remove the grime.

Kelly hadn’t fared much better, but somehow the dirt made her more beautiful, the soreness in her shoulders made her arch her back in a pose Squire darted his gaze away from.

“Let’s go eat,” he said, trying one last time to wipe his fingers clean as he stood. He reached a still-disgusting hand to her and pulled her to her feet.

“We’ve found nothing,” she said, vocalizing the despair and frustration rising through him.

“We will,” he assured her, giving his voice more power and hope than he possessed. He followed her down the hall, and Benson trotted to his side as soon as he descended the stairs. Squire automatically leaned down to scratch him behind his ears. The animal’s comfort infused him, allowing him to erase the outward worry that his mom would be able to spot through a pair of binoculars. Which he wouldn’t put past her using.

“What’s his name?” Kelly asked, indicating the dog.

“You don’t remember Benson?” Squire squinted at her. “I think that hurts his feelings.”

On cue, Benson whined before licking Kelly’s hand.

She jerked her fingers back, and Squire barely stopped himself from laughing as she wiped her hands on her pants. With her ranch-approved footwear, Squire didn’t have a problem keeping pace with her. She took the path that led into the backyard and toward the patio.

“You look scared,” he said as they neared the steps.

“I am scared,” she said. “I don’t know how to pretend that everything is okay. Especially when it’s not.”

He stopped walking, and she did too. “Haven’t you ever had to keep a secret?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He stepped into her personal bubble, wanting to be closer to her and using this hushed conversation as a way to do it. “Like what?”

She tilted her head back to keep her eyes locked with his. “You know, Santa Claus, birthday presents.” She looked petrified, like Santa carried a chainsaw. Squire wondered what she was afraid of.

He shook his head. “No, like a major secret that you don’t want anyone else to know. Like, in high school when you had a crush on someone and you didn’t want them—or anyone—to know. Or like—”

“When your husband has another woman in another city?”

He flinched like she’d punched him. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry.” He hooked his pinky in hers, gave a quick squeeze, and let go.

She blinked a few times as her eyes shone with sudden liquid and stared toward his cabin. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m over it.”

Squire cupped her elbow in his palm. “Are you? Because it doesn’t sound like you are.” If the rumors his mother brought home from the salon were to be believed, she’d only found out about her husband a few months ago.

She blew out her breath. “It’s like Scott said a couple of weeks ago. God requires us to forgive.”

Squire cocked an eyebrow and shifted his weight to his left leg.

She couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. “I’m still working on it,” she finally admitted.

“Which part?” he asked. “Forgiving him? Or forgiving yourself?”

Her eyes flew to his, and now they held. Time stretched as they looked openly at each other. He wasn’t sure what was running through her head, but he knew she hadn’t found peace on either point.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, her expression taut.

“Of course.”

“Do you think God forgives us, even when we make the same mistakes over and over again?”

She looked so frail, the pleading note in her question hanging between them. Squire wanted to clamp both of his hands on her shoulders and impart strength to her.

“I think God is very forgiving. Sometimes it’s us mortals who have to let go of the past and focus on becoming what God wants us to become.”

He still didn’t know why God called some men home, while others had to stay behind with puckered skin, shattered bones, or broken minds. But he absolutely knew that God was forgiving.

She turned away from him and swiped quickly at her face. “Thank you. I’m working on that too.”

“We all are,” Squire said, wishing forgiving someone was as easily done as he’d just vocalized. Truth was, he was still working on forgiving her. This conversation urged him a little closer to that goal.

Kelly faced him and drew a deep breath through her nose. “So I have to pretend like everything is okay, like I’m just sifting through papers in my office, not looking for ranch-saving files.”

“Exactly.” He flashed a smile in her direction. “Because I’m sure you haven’t told Finn the whole truth about his dad.”

“No.” Her eyes widened. “I would never—it would kill him.”

“And this could kill my father,” Squire said, looping his arm through hers and starting up the stairs. “So we put on our happy faces, and we pretend everything’s fine.”

His mom didn’t make lunch every day, and today was one where the kitchen sat clean and empty. Kelly stalled in the doorway. “I brought a sandwich. I don’t need to eat your food.”

Squire continued to the fridge and pulled out a container of last night’s sour cream noodle casserole. “But you can. Ma made that noodley stuff you and Chelsea used to inhale.”

Kelly put one hand on her hip. “I did not inhale anything.”

“Uh….” He stuck the container in the microwave. “Yes, you did.”

“I’ve seen you eat a milkshake in thirty seconds flat.”

He pointed a fork at her, glad the tension between them had evaporated. “That was a dare.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you remember that.” The woman obviously had an iron memory—at least on some points. Why couldn’t she remember he’d asked her to prom?

Why did it still feel like a branding iron against his lungs? He gulped for air, reached for the courage to ask her if she’d gotten the balloons.

“What was that guy’s name?” Kelly asked, obliterating his questions. “The one Chelsea was so enamored with?”

“Todd,” Squire answered through a too-tight throat. Chelsea had managed to get Todd to go get ice cream with them after a basketball game, claiming a bunch of friends were going. It was just her and him, and Squire and Kelly. For that one night, he’d felt like the other half of a couple.

“That’s right.” Kelly snapped her fingers. “Todd Hurley. What ever happened to him?”

“You’ve been out of the rumor mill for too long,” he said as the microwave beeped. He pulled out the food and stirred it before dividing it onto two plates. Nudging one toward an empty spot on the bar, he gave her a meaningful look. “Sit. Eat.”

She slid into the seat and he sat next to her. “I have,” she said. “I get most of my information from Glenda at the salon.”

He appraised her. “You don’t look like Glenda does your hair.” He fingered it, simply because he could and it wouldn’t seem weird. Silky and soft, and absolutely beautiful with a hint of red he hadn’t noticed before.

She laughed, tipping her head back. “No, but she knows everyone and everything that happens in town. If I need to know something, I ask my mother, who knows or can find out at Glenda’s.”

He wondered what everyone was saying about him, about Three Rivers. “I’m sure the grocer is a hotbed for gossip too.”

“Definitely.” She took a bite of her noodle casserole. “Mm, I remember this now. You’re right. I totally inhaled this.” She forked another bite into her mouth.

He ate a little more slowly than Kelly, finally working up the nerve to ask, “What have you learned about me?”

She leaned back, her plate empty. “Let’s see. Your dad is going to retire soon, and you’re going to take over Three Rivers. Oh.” She grinned at him. “You’re incredibly handsome, and Glenda wishes her daughter still lived here so she could set you up. Apparently Glenda likes a man in uniform.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Always with the uniform. Squire tired of it, especially now that he couldn’t wear his uniform for anything but show. “Believe it or not, I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh, yeah?” She punched him lightly in the arm. “That you’re incredibly handsome? Or that women swoon at the sight of a uniform?”

He crossed his arms, pride parading across his vocal cords as he said, “Both, actually. Why do you think I joined the Army?”

“Because you needed money for school.”

“I never should’ve told you that.” He picked up his plate, gathered hers, and walked around the counter to the sink. With his back to her, he asked, “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think I’m handsome? Do you swoon at the mere sight of a uniform?” He rinsed the plates and loaded them in the dishwasher, very aware that he was playing with matches very near the open flame of his heart. The pause created by the clacking dishes lengthened even after he finished.

He turned around and leaned against the counter, his eyebrows raised. His pulse sat heavy in his throat, and heat streaked his neck. But it was about time they had a real conversation. He’d seen her fear, her confusion, and he wanted answers.

She studied the counter, braiding her fingers together again and again. “I’d have to see you in your uniform to decide if it’s swoon-worthy,” she said. “But you’re definitely handsome. You know, for girls who like the tall, rugged, cowboy type. Like maybe Susie Randall.”

He groaned. “Susie Randall is barking up the wrong tree.”

Kelly folded her arms and peered up at him. “Are you calling that gorgeous, blonde woman a dog?”

“If the boot fits,” he said, shrugging.

“Squire Ackerman.” She stood and put both hands on her hips, a prerequisite to her lecturing him. She’d done it countless times as a teenager, and once last week in his old bedroom.

He wasn't sixteen anymore and he wouldn’t back down. “I’m just not interested.”

“In dating?” Kelly’s eyebrows rose.

Squire pinned her with a look that made her squirm. “Who wants to know? You? Or the ladies at the salon?”

“Not me,” she said, though her voice went up in pitch. “I mean, if you want to date, you should. But if you don’t, then that’s your right too, you know? I mean, are you interested in women?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” His words sounded like rockets inside his own ears. So much for trying to tame his commanding tone.

Kelly flinched. “You’re right.” She paced away from him. “I shouldn’t lecture you. Especially about dating.” She spun and met his gaze. He watched her gear up, watched her mouth open.

“I’m so sorry about the prom. I didn’t know who’d invited me.” Her fingers fumbled, fumbled, fumbled as his heart tumbled, tumbled, tumbled. Her bottom lip would be hamburger by the time she stopped chewing it.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Shocked into muteness, Squire nodded.

“I popped all those balloons and couldn’t find a name on any of the confetti. I hoped whoever had brought them would try again or call me or come to the prom and ask me to dance or….” Her words rushed, crashed, broke over Squire like white-capped rapids.

“I would’ve said yes,” she said. “I’m sorry, Squire.”

He twisted in the river of words and emotions and revelations and feelings, trying to right himself.

She hadn’t ignored him. Hadn’t rejected him. She simply hadn’t known.

And he’d been too angry and too afraid to approach her.

Squire broke the surface of the waves her apology had caused. “I want to try again.”

Their eyes locked, and everything he’d just admitted was blown wide open. The good news was Kelly had some of her own feelings she’d been hiding. He identified hope, happiness, and helplessness before she buried her emotions deep, deep.

He pushed away from the counter before he could blurt another embarrassing comment. “Well, those files won’t go through themselves.” He headed for the patio door, the backlash of her apology still uncoiling in his ears.

“Files?” his dad asked, coming into the kitchen. “You two still going through all the paperwork?”

Squire froze, meeting Kelly’s panicked gaze. “Yes.”

“Find anything yet?” He shuffled to the fridge.

“No, sir,” Kelly said, her voice on the verge of a tremor. “Nothing we need, at least.”

She’d spoken true, and Squire gave her a thumbs up while his father’s back was turned. His heart pounded in a completely different rhythm, but his dad certainly couldn’t see or hear that.

“Let me know when you do,” his dad said, and Squire confirmed that he wanted to know too. He gestured for Kelly to go in front of him, which she did.

“Slow. Steady,” he whispered as she passed him. She looked like she was scampering away, not just going back to her office for a long afternoon of work. Her steps slowed, and Squire made to follow her.

“Son?” his dad asked.

“Yeah?” He turned back to the kitchen as Kelly left, though everything inside him wanted to go with her.

He waved his spoon toward the window. “How’s she doin’?”

“Better than I thought, actually.”

“You keepin’ an eye on her?”

“Two,” he said, sure his daddy wouldn’t read the double meaning in his statement the way his momma would. He glanced out the window and found Kelly waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll keep you updated.” He waved good-bye to his father, determined not to make a fool of himself in front of Kelly again. But she had a way of making him comfortable. Maybe she hadn’t been looking through him all those years ago. Maybe she could see past the surface to what seethed beneath.

Benson yipped when Squire stepped onto the deck. “I know, boy,” he murmured, his pulse teetering on the edge of needing to bark too. “Gotta take a step back.” Too bad he wanted to sprint now that he knew Kelly would’ve said yes.