Rider’s Block

38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter thirty-eight

"Soul," Lee Brice

M y mom was thrilled about the idea of doing an early Thanksgiving with my, her words, “strapping cowboy” in tow. A little too thrilled. She loves love, it’s in her bones to cheer on a relationship, but I would have appreciated just a small amount of pause before she hit me with an onslaught of questions on the phone after I told her we were coming. My brother doesn’t even have any objections. None! He’s supposed to be my overprotective, surly older brother who thinks I’m still too young to date. But the minute Eric walked into the door and my favorite three-year-old nephew took one look at his cowboy hat and decided he had a new favorite person in life. My brother practically handed over a goat for my dowry. The goat being the maintenance of that high-energy three-year-old. Which Eric handled perfectly. Too perfectly.

And my neice? I think she's in love. I mean, I don't blame her. But spent the entire trip watching Eric from across the room with stars in her eyes.

And the bastard knew it too.

He and my little, impressionable nephew were inseparable for the two days we were in Idaho, and if I was on the fence about having kids, it would be no issue now. Watching Eric being patient and doting on a tiny human had my brain short-circuiting too many times to be healthy.

I watched my sister-in-law swoon three times.

Eric brought his A-game to meet my family. He helped my mom in the kitchen, he split firewood with my brother (a new activity for my brother, but who am I to judge?) and anytime he was by my side, he had his finger through my belt loop, keeping me close. It’s a good thing I wear so many jeans. I don’t know what he’d do if I started wearing dresses.

It took Mom all of four hours before she pulled me aside.

“I like him.” Cutting right to the chase, as ever.

“I know. Everyone likes him. Couldn’t be more obvious. You guys might, might , think about trying to play it a little cool.”

“Why? He’s not. He’s being very direct. I think it’s only appropriate we match his pace.”

“Mom, come on.”

“I’m serious! That boy is smitten. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks your brother for permission to marry you by the end of the trip.”

“Mother! It’s been, like, three months.”

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping him. I like the direct approach. Your brother was the same way, I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised.”

“But they’ve known each other since middle school. That hardly counts.”

“Whatever the case, I like him. Do you?” She tilts her head ever so slightly in my direction, clearly an investigative stance.

“Of course I like him. He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I don’t…I don’t do casual. You know that. It’s sort of…sort of—”

“It’s a big deal that he’s here. I get it. I’m proud of you.”

“Are you….are you sad, Mom?” I’ve never asked this before. I’ve never wanted to point it out.

“Sometimes. But right now? Couldn’t be happier. Do I wish your father hadn’t set such a terrible example for you guys? Of course. But seeing you here, with a man who couldn’t love you more…well, I’m just glad you had the fortitude to keep going. That’s all.” There’s a small amount of remorse on her face that pushes me to hug her immediately.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do! You remind me all the time. I’m proud of you, Amelia. Loving a man doesn’t make you any less of yourself.”

A commotion out front breaks our conversation and we head out to check on everyone. Eric and my brother are playing football, and my nephew fell into a leaf pile trying to catch a lob and is rolling around giggling up a storm. It’s a beautiful setting, but what’s more beautiful is the smile Eric sends in my direction. I was a little worried he’d see the broken version of my family unit—the complete opposite of what he’s used to—and run the other way or judge me a little for it. But the look he has on his face right now erases every doubt. He keeps doing that, and I keep trying to protect the small morsels of my heart that he’s devouring piece by piece.

By the time we left, every member of my family was won over to his side. I don’t think I held the affection of my brother’s dog anymore. I used to be the obvious favorite, but all animals are drawn to Eric, I guess, because the little traitor sat under Eric’s feet the entire Thanksgiving dinner instead of mine, even though I was trying to sneak him turkey bits.

From the early Thanksgiving at my family’s house, we immediately flew to go to the ranch to celebrate with his family. Nancy was beyond thrilled that I was coming, and I don’t know if it’s my company or help in the kitchen she wants more. We spent three hours on the phone going over the menu together. I found the whole thing to be kind of grounding.

But I haven’t been back to the ranch since I left in August. Even though I’ve seen everyone at the rodeos I’ve attended, it feels different coming back to this place. A good different. A different I don’t want to think about too much until we have this conversation Eric keeps mentioning. I know what he’s talking about, but what I find weird is that it’s starting to scare me less.

He’s done nothing to give me any doubt, and that’s the part that scares me more. He’s been practically perfect, but I’m so broken I’m still afraid to jump all in. He’s done everything he can to show me what he wants, even though he has no problem vocalizing it, and still—in the back of my head—I have just enough of a seed of doubt to make me question if he really means all of it. He’s been perfect. I feel…wrong…for hedging myself.

We’ve talked about this several times while one of our FaceTime calls go late into the night. We’ll spend those calls talking about the cookies he made one minute, and my anxiety the next, and he flips the switch with ease. Every time we talk about it he assures me everything I’m feeling is okay. That I’m allowed to be scared.

The weirdest thing I’ve found, though, is the peace in brutal honesty. Every time I build up an anxiety with him, the minute I say it out loud I feel like fifteen pounds have been lifted from my shoulders. And I know that’s all because of Eric and how he’s treating me, treating my worry. He doesn’t make me feel bad, he doesn’t make me feel crazy…he makes me feel understood. Heard.

I know I love this man. He slowly wormed his way into my heart, but he’s bulldozing his way into my mind, knocking down every vulnerable thought I have.

I haven’t told him yet, but I think he knows. I think he sees it in my eyes when I watch him play horse with my nephew, or when I say goodnight and hesitate to hit the end button. And I know he loves me too, and he’s giving me the power to be the first one to admit it out loud.

And I’m in love with his family, too. They’ve done their fair share of plowing their way into my life as well. I love getting to see my family, especially around the holidays, and no one will ever replace them. But I have more capacity in my heart for love apparently, because pulling up that familiar gravel road feels a lot like coming home.

Eric reaches over the middle seat to put his hand on my thigh—a universal show of affection that gets every passenger princess a little weak in the knees—right before the house comes into view. There are a few patches of snow, but nothing big. Eric said there’s supposed to be a decent storm hitting over the weekend that might stick. Nancy told me on our planning call that she also stocked up on snow day ingredients and that she’s hoping I get snowed in with the family while I’m here. I can’t say I disagree with her. Looking at the house now only partially covered in patches of snow, I can only imagine how it will look with a full blanket of it.

Penny is the first to greet me at full speed when I walk in the front door. And since Eric insisted on carrying everything for me like the gentleman he is, I have the free hands to hug her back just as tightly.

“You made it! The radar is looking a little dicey, we were hoping you guys would get here before it started falling.”

“Did it move up?” Eric says from behind me, setting my stuff by the stairs.

“Yeah, Dad and Trevor are out there now getting everything ready,” Dean says, coming up to put his arm around Penny’s waist. Penny and I make eye contact and our eyes practically scream with excitement. “I’m heading out there but wanted to say hi first, you comin’?”

Eric grunts his affirmation and heads to the mudroom to get geared up. “Can we do anything?” I ask, following behind him as his stride outpaces mine.

“I don’t know, babe, I don’t know what’s been done yet and it might be safer to help Mom—”

“I’ve got it!” Nancy shouts from the kitchen. “She’s gotta know about this side of everything too, Eric. Take her with you!” I don’t know how Nancy heard all of it, with her clanging away in the kitchen. We both laugh to ourselves a bit before Eric finally relents.

“Alright, Red. Come on. Let’s bundle you up.”

I wasn’t prepared for Eric’s concept of “bundled up.” By the time he has enough layers on me to deem me properly prepared for the elements, I’m not entirely sure I have full mobility of my arms. And my neck doesn’t have full swivel access, either, with the scarf he’s got wrapped around me tucked under the hood of a Carhartt jacket. I feel ridiculous. And Eric knows it. I know he knows it because I keep seeing him try to hide his smirks as we’re riding over to the barn.

We pull up to a flurry of movement. People are purposefully moving everywhere, and it’s a well-orchestrated dance fueled by urgency and the need to protect against the elements. Apparently, the storm went from the possibility of a full snow to the threat of a full-on blizzard in the last twenty-four hours. Temperatures are expected to drop well below freezing, and when you take care of living creatures exposed to those elements, snow goes from cute to a threat very quickly.

I don’t know half of the stuff I touch, but I do know I’m a ready and able body here to help move whatever I need to move to help. So, help I do. The sun sets, and we continue to work for two more hours before calling it a night and heading back to the main house. My body is sore, I used muscles I didn’t know I have, and I know my step count for the day must be through the roof. But the work was tangible. Even though I played such a small role in helping, I did it. I helped. Every sore muscle is worth it.

Eric notices I’m a little stiff after dinner while we’re all hanging out. I got a pretty gnarly cut on the back of my ankle from my boots digging into my Achilles, but I wasn’t going to complain about it. And I did a decent job of not catering to it while walking, but Eric notices.

It was probably a good thing he notices, though, because when he drags me over to sit down and look at it when I finally admit the cause of my limp, it turns out my sock is stained with the blood from the cut and it needs to be cleaned up…and a Band-Aid wouldn’t hurt, I begrudgingly admit as he pulls me upstairs and plops me on a bathroom countertop.

“Can’t let these things get infected, Red.” He’s got my ankle in his hand, dabbing it with hydrogen peroxide.

“I thought it was just a normal blister, guess the cold numbed it.”

“That’ll happen. We need to get you some better shoes for this. It’d break my heart a little bit if you ruined those red boots.”

I let out a laugh at the thought of him being so broken-hearted over my footwear. “Noted, won’t wear them in mud, babe, I promise.” At the slip of the name that easily flowed from my mouth, Eric whips his head up with a delighted smile that is so contagious I don’t bother feeling awkward. I almost feel ashamed it took me so long. “Is everything taken care of tonight? Or will you have to do more?”

“We’ll wake up early to check if the snow’s hit, and once it does there will be some more work to do, but for tonight the best thing we can do is get a good night’s sleep. Which, considering our sleeping arrangements, is going to be difficult.”

“So you’re telling me we’re sharing a room again?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t get to go back to my cabin?”

“Nope, Mom said she closed them down for the winter.”

“Even yours?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What do you mean by ‘closed them down’?”

“I don’t know, this is the first time she’s done it.”

That makes us both laugh again. He steps into my space where I sit on the counter and slowly moves my hair behind my ear. I can only imagine what it looks like after Eric shoved a beanie on my head, but the way he’s looking at me right now I don’t really care.

His kiss is a little different tonight. A little more. I’m not sure what more means, but his hands pull me closer to him as he deepens the kiss and I have to brace myself on the counter. He’s been a perfect gentleman, taking things as slow as he promised every time we’ve been together, but it feels like his patience is starting to wane.

A knock on the door has me pulling back, but he doesn’t hear it until the second round of thumping is joined by an impatient-sounding Dean from the other side. “Listen, I know I’m interrupting something but I have to pee so bad I’m about to piss myself, and cousin Max just used the toilet downstairs—if you know what I mean—and since no one can walk into that bathroom for two more hours without fear of suffocation, I’m really going to need you guys to take this somewhere else and let me—” Eric whips the door open, cutting him off. He grabs me from off the counter and I see him whisper something to Dean that has him turning three shades of pink before we go downstairs with everyone else.

Nancy and I spend the next thirty minutes planning out the cooking for the next day. I’m excited to get back into that kitchen, and Nancy is equally as excited to have me help with preparations. She’s mentioned no less than five times that Trevor will not let Christine spend too much time in the kitchen because every scent still makes her want to throw up, but because she has an intense fear of missing out she’ll suffer through it anyways and disappear to go throw up in private. Penny is on "Christine entertainment duty" if the boys have to work tomorrow, so I’m all that’s left in the food preparation line-up.

George does the universal call to end the night—deep sigh, rub the thighs, start saying, “Well…” and then never finish the sentence—and everyone parts ways. Eric grabs my hand to lead me upstairs to what I learn is his childhood room. I spend a solid fifteen minutes looking at every shelf, every belt buckle, and every poster he has on the wall.

“Mom never wanted to change our rooms, so it’s kind of a time capsule.”

“And Dean still lives here?”

“Yep.”

“Please tell me he also has posters on the wall.”

“Last I checked.”

“That’s…adorable.”

“Not the word I’d use for it, but sure,” he says with a tight smile. I can tell in the way his shoulders are hunched he’s worried about this. I smile and start to get ready for bed. When he stayed with me in California he insisted on the couch. And when we stayed in the bunk beds in Montana, we were never this alone. I don’t want to egg him on, but the opportunity is just too tempting. I know he’ll stay true to his word. I have no doubt in my mind. So that makes the teasing all the more fun.

I disappear into the bathroom down the hall to change into my pajamas. Not realizing we’d be sharing a room again my pajamas aren’t exactly…conservative, but that makes this all the more fun. I get ready for bed and throw on a big sweatshirt I snagged from his closet so I’m not walking down the hall wearing something too revealing.

But when I get back to his room, the look I was hoping to get from him from my pj’s is prematurely achieved when he sees me in his sweatshirt.

“Killin’ me, Red. Absolutely killin’ me. You can have the sweatshirt. It’s yours. I’ll never be able to look at it the same again, and until we’re sharin’ a closet that’s just not good for my health.”

I’m still laughing as I run up to him and throw my arms around his neck, kissing him softly on the lips. “I don’t share closet space.”

He kisses me back but pulls away abruptly right as I feel him shift into the same urgent pace he had earlier. “Alright, let’s end this torture. Get in bed.” Then muttering to himself I watch him pace back and forth six times before joining me under the covers. “I’m going to be good, but I’m not going to miss out on an opportunity to hold you all night. Is that okay, babe?”

I nod and he flips me around effortlessly and pulls me close, hugging me from behind. I hear him let out a pained breath of air and feel him put his forehead on my shoulder as he realizes that my favorite pj’s are not ones he’s seen before. “I thought I had good willpower. I really did. But baby, you are…did you have to do this?” he asks as he fists the silk fabric at my waste.

“In my defense, I thought I’d be back in my cabin.”

“Yeah, but you…you could have…I don’t know, I have T-shirts or something…but shit, that wouldn’t have been any better. Dammit, Red.”

We laugh ourselves to sleep, and I’ve never slept better.

***

The snowstorm held off for the holiday, but with the delay it’s promised to be a little bigger. Nancy takes advantage of the reprieve, and we go full steam ahead in getting everything ready for the biggest Thanksgiving dinner I’ve seen in my entire life. Like, a two-turkey kind of Thanksgiving. One smoked, one roasted, apparently. Eric to my delight is in charge of the smoked turkey. It shouldn’t surprise me to see him attend to something so dutifully, but he does, and it’s adorable.

Nancy was also spot-on with her explanation of Christine’s predicament. I caught her throwing up once, and Penny looked almost run ragged trying to keep her from joining in on the fun. By the time everyone sits down at the table, I’m a little tired, even more sore than yesterday if it’s possible, but so full of contentment my heart feels like it’s glowing.

Nancy makes everyone go around and say what they’re thankful for and I thought these men would hem-haw their way around stupid answers—and some of them do—but most everyone feels pretty sincere with the way they’d think before they speak.

Trevor puts his hand on Christine’s belly as he says he’s thankful for his son. Penny goes after Dean, who says he’s thankful for getting his priorities straight, and says she’s thankful for sparkly belts. The way I can see that they’re nudging each other under the table has me wondering if it was that visible all the times Eric put his hand on my leg or nudged me while I was here, but I don’t have time to think of that too long because the man in question is too busy making my heart fly out of my chest.

“I’m thankful for red boots.”

***

I’ve been around my fair share of snow. When I was a kid in Idaho, I spent many winters sledding, ice-skating, building snowmen. They’re fond memories with the dominant aspect of fun. Colorado snow is different.

The sting of the cold makes me do a double take when I look at the thermometer. I look at my phone’s weather app to see if the wind chill makes a difference, and it does, but Eric tells me it’s the amount of moisture in the air that really makes a difference.

He’s got me bundled up again, but this time I don’t mind. This time, I get it. I want each and every layer he bestowed upon me. We’re even inside the cab of the truck—with seat heaters on—and I can’t get the chill out of my bones.

Penny and Christine are at the house with Nancy getting Christmas out of the attic. Nancy swears that no matter what gets in the way, there’s no chance she’s missing out on one single day of the Christmas cheer she waits for all year. The first flakes started falling a few hours after we’d cleaned up all of the Thanksgiving leftovers, so Eric and I helped get the cinnamon rolls ready to rise overnight.

We followed a strict recipe that’s been passed down from the same group of women that Eric bought the cinnamon roll from to show me last summer, and I understand the appeal in purchasing them instead of making them. I’m pretty savvy in the kitchen, and so is Eric, but these kicked our butts. We were covered in flour, cinnamon, and butter by the end of what felt like a two-hour wrestling match to get the dough kneaded to the point of bouncy that met Nancy’s standards.

Not that I minded. There’s something about watching a tough guy get bested by gluten in the kitchen. Or maybe it was the flexing forearms. Whatever the case, working side by side with Eric had me turning into a simpering Regency woman in need of smelling salts. Dear me.

Eric says this kind of celebratory crossover has never happened before—Thanksgiving, the beginning of Christmas, and the first snow day—so it’s nice that I got to experience it all packed together.

But that all has to wait until everything is taken care of and is safe and accounted for. The cattle are all doing well. The water pipes aren’t frozen and that was one of the main concerns, so they’ll be good while the sun is out thawing things and only need checked on again before it gets dark. The horses are a mix of joy and disdain and I find the whole thing to be rather adorable. Star and the new palomino are running around their pens, kicking up their hind legs looking like they’re having the time of their life. Roper is sulking in the barn, not wanting to get near the stuff. But it’s Denis that surprises me the most. My favorite hulking accounting horse is actually rolling in the snow.

“I didn’t know horses did that,” I say as we watch Denis flip back and forth on his back, wiggling in a way to get him snowy and muddy.

“It’s not often, but Denis always has. He does it in the grass, too. I get a kick out of it.”

“Has Roper always hated the snow?”

“Yes, the princess doesn’t like getting his hoofs cold.”

“Does it make you anxious to work with the elements like this?” I’d been wondering all morning. Weather has never played a part in my ability to do my job or not, so this is brand new territory for me.

“Sometimes,” he says after thinking it through a while. “The cold is the worst because there’s not much we can do once it hits. But I just have to remind myself that these guys are hardwired to survive. Sometimes my help might actually hurt them, sometimes my help may save ’em. It’s a lot of trust on both sides.” He looks at me with a little smirk.

“Sounds like a familiar theme recently.”

He winks at me before turning back to the house.

The smell of chili hits me first when I walk through the front door, followed shortly by the undercurrent of sweet cinnamon. My mouth is watering by the time everyone grabs a bowl and makes their way to the living room with the best view of the snow. The newly installed Christmas decorations make the whole scene feel straight from a movie.

Eric pulls me in to sit next to him on the couch, practically on the man’s lap but I shift to the left at the last second. Nancy beams at us across the way. By the time everyone finishes their chili and moves on to the particularly fluffy cinnamon rolls (if I do say so myself) I’m practically comatose. The fire is blazing in the fireplace, and for the first time in my life I feel like it’s functional instead of just there for ambience. Everyone is quietly talking about everything from their checklist to do tomorrow to planning Christmas lists. I’m sitting in the middle of the living room, on the outskirts of all of the conversations…but I don’t feel alone. Eric is sitting behind me, closing me in his arms as he pipes in and out of different conversations, looping me in where it’s relevant.

It’s a strange thing to feel so content, to feel so comfortable in silence. I think back to the cookbook dinner I had with my college friends months ago that started this whole thing. It was a big dinner table, surrounded by people I was familiar with, but if it weren’t for Olivia, I would have felt totally alone at that table. But I don’t here. And I’m an outsider, for all intents and purposes. But I’ve never felt like an outsider. The conversations around me are equally as unrelatable to me sometimes, but I have my anchor in Eric. I have an anchor in Christine and Penny…Nancy…even Dean and Trevor make sure I don’t drift away.

“You doin’ alright over there?” Eric proves me right, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“More than alright. I think we did a pretty good job on these cinnamon rolls if I do say so myself.”

“What can I say? We make a good team.”

I pat his leg that I’m not leaning against. “We do, babe, we really do.”

That gets his smile going even wider. “Now let’s prove it to everyone else.” He clears his throat, and I panic for a moment that he’s about to make an announcement before we can talk about it, but instead he surprises everyone by saying, “Alright, everyone, who’s ready for charades?”