“She’s your mate,” Rick said with a shrug. “It’s not the same for everyone. Sometimes it takes you a while to realize it. Sometimes you know right away.”
He couldn’t imagine looking at Hope and not feeling that soul-deep tug. Or knowing that she was out there somewhere, and not being with her. What would he do if she left? If she didn’t want to live on the ranch, be a part of this family? He shoved those thoughts aside and tried to tell himself there was no point in worrying about something until it happened.
“She’s really embarrassed about what happened yesterday at dinner.” He grabbed both glasses and dumped out the ice in the sink. Rick pointed at a bag of potatoes and then snapped his fingers, so Josh grabbed them and dumped them out on the counter.
“What, the barn thing? That wasn’t anything,” Rick said.
“I’ve tried to tell her that, but she feels like she insulted everyone.”
“She said something stupid. It happens. God knows you do it often enough.”
He picked up a potato peel and flicked it in Rick’s direction. “Very funny.”
***
After she arose from her brief nap, Hope wandered into the kitchen, where she spent some time peeling potatoes and carrots, despite Rick’s best efforts. He chased her out a half-hour before dinner, which gave her time to take a quick shower. Normally she only showered in the morning, but the last thing she wanted was to spend an hour at the dinner table, all the while knowing that she and Josh had rolled around on the ground and...done some other things.
By the time she had finished drying her hair, it was time for dinner. Okay, she thought to herself. Time to see if I can get through a meal without putting my foot in my mouth.
Fortunately, everyone seemed willing to pretend that nothing had gone wrong the night before. Hope bantered with Rick, sitting next to her, and helped one of th
e smaller children cut his meat. Instead of being wracked with nerves, she felt safe and included. And, she thought to herself as Josh put his hand on her leg under the table, loved. She felt loved.
She offered to help with the small mountain of dishes, but it seemed to be the responsibility of a few older children. Most of the rest of the house was occupied with organizing the nightly bath and bedtime rituals. She found Josh at a card table set up in the den, helping Ian with his algebra homework.
“You get stuck on homework duty?” she asked.
“All hands on deck,” he said. “I don’t mind the math, so that’s where I usually end up.”
“I never liked algebra.” She looked down at the equations scribbled in Ian’s notebook. “I did much better with geometry. I guess I understood it when I could see the shapes.”
“Ian’s pretty good with algebra, aren’t you?”
“It’s okay,” Ian said with a shrug.
Josh rolled his eyes behind Ian’s back. “He’s twelve. He doesn’t admit to liking anything.”
Hope resisted the urge to laugh, knowing that she wouldn’t have appreciated a stranger laughing at her when she was twelve. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
After the younger kids were in bed, she joined a group of people watching television. Josh wandered in after a while and settled next to her on the sofa. It felt almost scandalous sitting next to him, but at the same time, it was comfortable, enjoying his warmth and the companionship of his family.
The next morning, Hope indulged herself by sleeping late again. It seemed like a luxury she hadn’t had in a long time, since her job often required arriving at the airport in time for early-morning flights. By the time she wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee, there was no sign of anyone, children or adults. She figured the kids were probably at school, and the others were out doing whatever they usually did on the ranch.
There was coffee in the carafe, so she poured herself a cup and put it in the microwave to heat. That morning’s copy of the Denver Post lay on the kitchen table, and she flipped through it looking for the crossword. No one had filled it out; she grabbed a pen and worked on the crossword while she drank her coffee.
“Ionic,” Josh said over her shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
“26-Down. ‘Architecture type,’ five letters.”
“Thanks.” She filled the letters in and took a moment to marvel at how good he looked in a simple long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair was slightly mussed from the wind outside, so she stood and brushed it back from his forehead.
“Morning,” he said, leaning in for a brief kiss.
“Morning,” she replied.
“I usually work on that at night,” he said, gesturing to the crossword.