“Then the boy’s a fool,” he ground out, squeezing her hand. “He didn’t strike me as a fool.”
She shook her head. “He’s not.” The tears kept coming. “He’s a good guy. A keeper.” She gave up then, covering her face with her father’s handkerchief and sobbing.
Minutes later, the truck rolled to a stop.
“Renata Jean. Give me a second?”
She nodded, staring at the handkerchief in her hands. “I’m sorry, Dad. For acting this way—”
“Nothing to apologize for, you hear me?” He smiled at her. “Your momma told me sometimes a good cry could make her feel better.”
She laughed. “Let’s hope so.”
He nodded and climbed out of the truck.
It took a minute for her to realize where they were. They weren’t at the gate. Not anywhere near the gate. They were in the heart of the ranch. At the vow tree.
She sat forward, peering through the windshield at her father. And her brothers. All gathered under the vow tree, talking to—
“Ash?”
What the hell was he doing here? Why was her father laughing? And her brothers?
“What is happening?” She pushed the truck door open, winced from the cold air and hurried toward her father, her brothers, Ash and the massive tree.
“Hi.” Ash was smiling at her. That smile. The one that made her knees weak. And made her heart thump. And her cheeks flush.
“Don’t hi me,” she managed. “I thought we were checking on a gate. For you.” She faced Fisher, scowling. “What’s going on?”
Her brothers were all smiles.
“We’re heading out.” Hunter walked off in the opposite direction, his truck parked, almost hidden, behind the tree break. Beside Ash’s.
“Fisher?” she asked, hoping her twin would clue her in.
Instead, he shrugged and followed her other brothers to Hunter’s truck.
“I’ll leave you to it?” her father asked.
She frowned at her father. “Leave me?”
Her father held her by the shoulders. “I told you the boy wasn’t a fool, Renata. Listen to him, would you?” With a parting nod at Ash, he headed back to his truck.
Her curiosity was rapidly turning into irritation. “I’m supposed to listen to you?” she asked, steeling herself to face him. She wouldn’t let his smile or his dimples or the crinkles at the corners of his eyes disarm her. Until she faced him. And she reacted like she always did—uncontrollably. “I’m listening.”
He nodded, his smile growing. “First, I got you something.” He held out a package. “Curtis might have helped me wrap it.”
She eyed the present. “I thought we said no more presents.”
“You said no more presents, Renata.” He pressed the crudely wrapped package into her hands.
She frowned, tearing the wrapping apart. And laughed. “Gloves.”
He laughed, too. “You can put them on now.”
With a shake of her head, she tugged on the down-lined leather gloves. “Okay. Happy?”
“Not yet.” He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I can’t give you space. I don’t want you getting over me. Not now, not ever. I don’t know how seeing me hurts you. All I know is not seeing you hurts me.” His gray eyes wandered over her face. “Even if you weren’t having my babies, we’d wind up here.”