you used to date her? It’s gotta suck working for your ex-girlfriend.”
Lane groaned, opting to take a bite of his burger instead of answering.
“Hey, kid,” Rusty began. “Far be it from me to stick my nose in your business, but are you sure that kid ain’t yours?”
Lane shot him a death glare. “You’re right. It’s none of your business, but I’ll set the record straight before that rumor spreads and Carina or one of her cousins catches wind of it. Lucy and I have already had that conversation. She isn’t mine. She’s not even the right age.”
While it hurt to know Lucy had gone home to Italy and had another man’s child while he’d been planning a future with her, a part of him had been equally relieved Carina wasn’t his daughter. He hadn’t been ready for kids back then. He wasn’t sure if he was ready now, but he’d given the idea more thought lately. Despite Nicolino’s never giving him enough credit, he envied the man’s relationship with Ella. Their lives were crazy and loud with five kids, but even as disorganized and frazzled as they sometimes were, they were happy.
“I think you should ask her out,” Rusty said between bites. “You’re far from strangers, and Lord knows, you’ve been pining over her ever since she left.”
“Since when did you become a matchmaker?” a ranch hand asked.
“I’ve done more livin’ than all of you combined. That entitles me to give advice.”
Lane laughed. “You noticed he said advice, not good advice.”
“Where’s the kid’s father?”
“He died four months ago, and the kid’s name is Carina.” Lucy had bombarded him with questions all day. He didn’t want to answer more, especially any that pertained to her. “Do me a favor and let it drop.”
They finished their meal talking about trucks and the new female bull-riding instructor at the rodeo school adjacent to the stables. It was nice seeing other men make fools of themselves over women so it wasn’t just him.
“The way I see it, you and Lucy are doing the Texas two-step.” A collective round of groans accompanied an onslaught of wadded-up napkins aimed at Rusty.
“You might as well hear him out and then maybe he’ll shut up,” a ranch hand said.
Lane set his beer on the table and faced Rusty. “Okay, this is your one shot. Lay it on me.”
“All I’m sayin’ is, you best be damn sure you don’t want a second chance with her, because she’s an attractive woman and this place is filled with cowboys who’d ride through fire for a chance to whirl her around the dance floor.”
He hadn’t thought of that. He looked around the table at his bunkmates. “I swear, if any of you ask her out, I’ll—”
“Relax.” Rusty smacked Lane on the shoulder. “She couldn’t handle a man like me.”
Everyone laughed. Lane didn’t think he had to worry about a 75-year-old ranch hand going after Lucy. Rusty had a point, though. Lane had no claim to Lucy and she was free to date whomever she wanted. So why did the thought of it gnaw at the pit of his stomach?
Lane checked his pockets for his keys and wallet and excused himself from the table. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
He started his truck with no real direction in mind but somehow found himself pulling in front of Lucy’s cottage fifteen minutes later. He hadn’t noticed her watching him from the porch while he gathered up his nerve to talk to her. Wonderful. Now he had some explaining to do.
He climbed out of his truck and silently joined her on the front porch, watching the sun make its final descent beyond the horizon.
“I was just sitting here thinking about you.” Her admission offered him a little more confidence.
“What a coincidence,” Lane said. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Lucy faced him, her head still resting against the rocking chair. “I was remembering the first sunset I saw in this country.”
“That was with me, wasn’t it?”
Lucy nodded, a slow, easy smile forming as she closed her eyes. “My first night in Texas. I was in Ramblewood Park eating ice cream and you sat beside me on the bleachers.”
“I can still remember how nervous I was to talk to you.” He watched her smile broaden as her eyes opened lazily. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her—slowly, as though they had all the time in the world to experience each other all over again.
“You and I had a good thing once.” She turned back to the horizon. As soon as she’d broken eye contact, he ached for it again.
It was every man’s fantasy to hear his first love admit she still thought of him, but Lane wasn’t prepared for the pain of actually hearing the words. “We were kids. Neither one of us knew what we were doing or where we were going. I won’t deny what I felt for you was real, because it was, but as much as I’d love to go back in time, we’re not those people anymore.”
“I’d like to think we’re better,” she said.
“I’ll give you that.” He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The instant he touched her, Lane knew he shouldn’t have come. He needed to get in his truck and leave her and the past alone before his heart paid the price again.
“And stronger,” Lucy said as she withdrew from him, resting her hands on her lap.
“Don’t forget wiser. Although that might be debatable on my part right about now.” Lane laughed at the irony of his own words. He attempted to will himself off the porch and back to the bunkhouse without success. This was a mistake.
“What am I doing wrong?” Lucy asked while gazing out into the fields before them.
Lane wondered if it was a rhetorical question or if he should answer. “In regards to what?”
“Everything. My daughter misses her father and hates me because I moved us to America. My new job’s a bit overwhelming and I have feelings for you that I’ve never been able to get rid of.”
Lane blew out a breath. “I see you haven’t lost your brutal honesty. Do you really want me to answer your question?”
“Go for it.” Lucy’s eyes connected with his and for a moment, he envisioned kissing her.
Lane turned his rocking chair toward her. “For starters, I think all kids hate their parents.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, allowing its silkiness to slide through his fingers before retreating. “You could move her to the other side of the world or make the wrong thing for breakfast and probably get the same reaction. We did it. Our parents did it. It’s human nature. Carina’s had a lot more to deal with than most kids her age. Please don’t get mad at me for asking, but have you considered a child psychologist to give her someone neutral to talk to?”
“I tried that in Italy but all she did was sit in the chair and stare at the wall. She refused to talk. When Carina shuts you out, you’re
