you’ll be able to come back in time?”
“Take it however you want,” Matt said as he loaded the last bag—the one Dirk had missed because he’d been so busy talking. And yes, he’d be back. He had a month and a half.
“What’s he talking about?” Craig asked as they walked through the automatic doors and he tried to keep up with Matt, who was moving pretty good despite his knee.
“Nothing.”
“Sounded like something.”
“Sounding like something and being something are not the same thing,” Matt muttered.
“You don’t want to talk about it.”
Matt hit the unlock button on his keys. “Who’s cooking tonight?”
“I cooked last night.”
“Pop-Tarts don’t count.”
“I can’t cook.”
“As I see it, you have all day to learn. Maybe a little internet research. We got a lot to work with here.”
“What are you going to do while I research recipes?”
“Practice.” He spent hours every day roping a dummy from both the ground and horseback. Next week he’d start roping calves again.
“For your big comeback?”
Matt exhaled. “Yeah. For my big comeback.”
* * *
“I DIDN’T EXPECT you to get home so late.” Tim slowly got up from his chair as Liv walked through the front door. He was trying hard to look normal, but wasn’t quite succeeding. Pain pinched his features.
Liv hadn’t had a chance to talk to him before she’d left for practice, since he’d still been on the baler proving himself to be hale and hearty, so she’d made dinner and left it in the warming oven, loaded Beckett and left. It had taken everything she had not to march across the hayfield and rap on the tractor door to tell her father that he’d made his point—he was getting better—and he didn’t need to kill himself to prove it.
But she hadn’t. Maybe once he got the hay knocked down, he’d set a more reasonable pace. One thing she knew for certain was that if she made a big deal, or continued to make a big deal, then her father’s stubbornness would kick into overdrive.
“Did you eat?” Liv asked, walking past him and into the kitchen. The dishes were done and the food was put away. She turned back to find her father standing in the doorway, looking pale. “Don’t do the kitchen stuff,” she said sternly. “That’s my job.”
“I’m used to doing the kitchen stuff.”
“Well, then there’s no reason we can’t switch off for the day. I’ll handle the hay and you can take care of the cooking.”
Haying wasn’t rocket science, but Tim had always insisted on doing it himself. When she was younger, Liv had thought Tim did everything around the ranch because he had an old-fashioned notion of men’s and women’s work, but now she suspected it was because he didn’t like to delegate. He was a man who depended on himself and only himself—end of story. He’d let her work by his side, which he had done while she’d stayed with him, finding it a way they could spend time together but not have to talk. But he flat out refused to let her take over operations.
“I’ll do the field work.”
Liv leaned back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest as she studied the closed-off man standing near the table.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked flatly. Liv was not a fan of direct confrontation, thanks to all those years of training from her mother, but she’d just spent an entire evening out of her comfort zone, so a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
“How am I feeling?” Tim asked stonily. Liv couldn’t say his barriers went up, because with her father they were never truly down, but he wasn’t in any hurry to answer. It was as if he hoped that if he stared her down long enough, she’d say, “Oh, never mind.” She didn’t, even though it was tempting, and he finally said, “Tired, after a day on the tractor. I think that’s understandable.”
Liv sighed, but before she could clarify that she meant overall, not just today, Tim said, “What did Matt want yesterday?”
The sudden change of topic had the exact effect that Tim had no doubt been hoping for. “How’d you know he stopped by?” she asked. She certainly hadn’t told him.
“Walter told me when he came to borrow the auger.”
Walter lived directly across the county road from the Bailey Ranch and filled his hours watching the coming and goings of his neighbors—when he wasn’t borrowing stuff from them or doing odd jobs.
Liv gave a small shrug. “He wanted the same thing as last time and I think he got the point this time.”
“Well, if he didn’t—”
Liv pushed off from the counter. “I can handle Matt. It isn’t like he can do much about the Beckett situation.”
“I don’t want him harassing you, like that other guy that you didn’t want to tell me about.”
“Two visits are not exactly harassment.” And she wished Tim didn’t know about “that other guy.” The only reason he did know was because Greg had the chutzpah to call Tim looking for her after she’d stopped answering his calls.
Her father raised one eyebrow and she took his point. After Matt’s first visit, during which she’d taken a firm stand, there was little call for a second. At least not in person. Phoning would have done just as well, but Matt had probably figured he’d be more persuasive in person. And he was, but Liv was not falling for it.
“If he starts harassing me, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t like lying to her father, but she wasn’t going to let him fight her battles, either. “By the way, I’m going to Missoula tomorrow to shop with Mom and Shae.”
“All that way to shop? Why doesn’t your mother meet you in a more central locale, like Butte? Surely you could shop there.”
Tim and Vivian had been divorced for almost twenty years and there was no lingering bitterness between them. In fact, Liv had never noticed any bitterness whatsoever. Even her mother, who clung to people with a death grip, changing as necessary to please them, had come to realize that she couldn’t change enough to stay married to Tim. He was a man who had difficulty allaying fears, reaffirming his commitment, saying the words “I love you,” and Vivian was a woman who needed those reassurances. Often. It hadn’t hurt that she’d married David McArthur within a year of divorcing Tim.
“The wedding, Dad. We’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses and Shae wants to shop in Missoula.”
“Right. The wedding. I forgot about that.” The words were barely out when a yawn seemed to catch him by surprise. Liv pretended not to notice, folding a dish towel before hanging it. He’d had a long day proving he was on the mend. She only hoped it didn’t send him into a relapse.
“Shae
