Book 10: His Tenth Dance (Ivory Peaks Romance)

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Mission Redbay left his cabin, already too hot in the navy blue suit coat. One, he never wore clothes like this. Certainly not in the summer, and never around the farm. Maybe to church for a wedding.

And today, Mission wasn’t attending a wedding.

“Feels like my own funeral,” he muttered as he went down the steps of the new cabin where he’d moved last night.

The foreman’s cabin.

Mission didn’t have to share as the foreman, and the cabin had been designed and built specifically for a career cowboy and his family. He supposed he had one of those, and blast everything to the stars, an image of the pretty blonde veterinarian he’d once fed a turkey sandwich to entered his mind as his boots touched gravel.

Kristie Higgins.

He’d seen her around the farm, of course. She came at least once a week, but Mission wasn’t the one who had to deal with her.

Until today, he thought as the enormity of the farm spread before him. The foreman’s cabin sat down at the end of cabin row, where all the cowboys lived. The equipment shed sat across from the last one, and way down by the homestead stood the generational house, where Deacon Hammond, Mission’s boss, lived.

Behind the homestead sat the family barn and buildings, and Hunter Hammond and his family took care of that part of the farm.

Other than that family land, the farm looked to Mission for guidance. They had pastures and paddocks for horses and cattle, a large amount of alfalfa acreage, and a dozen commercial buildings for the children’s equine therapy unit Molly Hammond administered.

The farm did horseback riding lessons too, and while Mission didn’t have to take care of every horse personally, every responsibility of the farm now sat on his shoulders.

No wonder he could barely take the first step across his front lawn and toward the south side of the farm, where the big red barn welcomed students and riders. He had to get over there, though, because the retirement party for Matthew Whettstein, who’d been acting as the foreman for the past twenty-five years, had already begun.

“Such big boots to fill,” he murmured to himself, imagining himself to be talking to his grandfather. A rare smile touched his lips then, for Granddad should be waiting for him at the party.

A friendly face.

Of course, everyone at the Hammond Family Farm had been nothing but congratulatory and supportive of Mission moving into the foreman position. Deacon had announced it a couple of months ago, and Mission had been meeting with Matt and his teams since then.

He’d already learned far more than he’d even realized he didn’t know.

He tugged at the end of his jacket sleeves, half-wanting to go home and throw the jacket in the trashcan. He wouldn’t, of course. Because this jacket had come from his grandfather, and Mission loved it beyond measure.

Still, something felt off. Maybe it was the way he’d trimmed his beard this morning. Or the fresh polish on his best boots.

Or maybe it’s the jacket.

You have to wear the jacket, he argued with himself. You’re becoming the foreman today.

And there it sat. The reason the world felt like it had been knocked another twenty-three degrees off center was because Mission was willingly stepping into the spotlight.

Nervous energy thrummed through his veins, and he fisted his fingers to contain the shaking. “It’s just a party,” he told himself, though Mission couldn’t remember the last party he’d been happy to attend.

Which so wasn’t true, and Mission pushed against the false narrative happening inside his head. He loved the Hammond family parties around the fire pit in the backyard, for every holiday, for birthdays, and sometimes just because it was Taco Tuesday, and Molly didn’t want to cook.

You’re ready for this, he told himself as he made it past the buildings and onto the dirt path that led in front of the generational house. Then he just had to walk past the counselor cabins and between the pastures, and he’d be at the stables. The administration barn stood in front of that, and the party had been set up on the south side, where trees provided shade for bigger outdoor parties such as this one.

Mission breathed in deeply as he took in the pretty blue sky above him, and he tipped his head back and prayed. “Lord.” His mind stilled for a moment, and while Mission had known his past indiscretions had been forgiven, he once again felt that cleansing power of God in his life.

“Thank You for this amazing opportunity. Bless me to have a level head and clear thoughts to make good decisions.”

It wasn’t just him who would pay this time, and Mission’s chest threatened to collapse in on itself, trap the breath there, and prevent Mission from ever breathing again.

A bolt of terror moved through him as his swallow reflex abandoned him. Then, his regular faculties returned, and he could exhale and swallow, and everything normalized.

You’ve got this, boy. You were meant for more than hiding in the shadows.

Granddad’s words further buoyed him, and Mission released the tension in his hands in an attempt to find a better way to deal with his nerves. His grandfather had always believed in him, even when Mission himself didn’t. Even when his past mistakes haunted him, threatening to drag him back down.

The June first breeze carried the scent of alfalfa, wildflowers, and something barbecued through the air. As he started down the fences between two pastures, the distant sound of music came from the direction of the big red barn.

His steps slowed as he approached, the knot in his stomach tightening. Only the width of the barn, and the turning of a corner, and Mission would arrive at his own party. Or rather, Matt’s party.

He fully committed by striding over the remaining distance and turning the corner before allowing himself to stop. Tents had been erected, with strings of twinkling lights crisscrossing through the rafters. Tables adorned with checkered cloths filled the space, and a long row of tables holding more food than Mission had ever seen stood against the far wall of the tent.

The Hammonds had gone all out for this celebration, and the thought only added to Mission’s anxiety. No one had seen him yet, and he took the moment to collect himself. Deacon stood with Hunter and Mike, two of the most powerful men Mission had ever met. Both Hunt and Mike had stood at the helm of a multi-billion-dollar company, with thousands and thousands of employees, and somehow knowing they’d done that and now stood wearing cowboy hats and laughing with loved ones gave Mission confidence that he could do this job.

Travis Thatcher had brought his whole family, and Tucker, Bobbie Jo, and Tarr had come from the farm where they’d been living and working for the past six months.

Gerty Hammond walked super-slowly beside her toddler, who bent down every other step to exclaim over something, and she chatted with Opal and Taggart Crow, whose clasped hands only reminded Mission of how alone he stood.

Boone and Cosette Whettstein stood with Gloria, but Mission didn’t see Matt anywhere. His eyes landed on the other cowboys and cowgirls who worked the farm, as well as several of the counselors at Pony Power.

And then the lovely Kristie Higgins. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved sweater the color of bright purple grapes. Very sensible shoes for a farm, too. 

Mission’s mouth watered slightly, and he told himself it was because he’d loved his grandmother’s grape juice growing up.

Not because of Kristie’s curves in those clothes.

“You can’t go in either?”

The familiar voice made Mission turn. Matt, his mentor and soon-to-be predecessor, stood a few feet away, a knowing smile on his weathered face. The older man was dressed similarly to Mission, though his jacket was made of crushed brown corduroy.

“Just taking it all in,” Mission said, working to keep his voice steady.

Matt moved to stand beside him. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? All this fuss.”

“Yeah.” Mission let out a breath that had felt trapped. “Matt, I don’t know—”

“Don’t you dare try to back out now,” Matt interrupted, his tone light but with an underlying firmness. “You’re ready for this, Mission. More than ready.”

Mission met the older man’s gaze, seeing the confidence there that he wished he felt himself. “Yeah.” He nodded, trying to switch his thoughts again. Why was it so hard to think good things about himself? Other people didn’t seem to have the same struggles he did when it came to self-confidence. “You’re right.”

“I sure am.” Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Now come on. Let’s get this show on the road before Deacon sends out a search party.”

With a nod, Mission walked with Matt further under the tent and into the party. The noise level increased tenfold as they entered, and it seemed like every eye turned toward them. Mission resisted the urge to rip his jacket off, despite the added heat it brought, and he forced a smile to his face as he approached Deac, Hunt, and Mike.

“Hey,” he said.

“There you are.” Deacon flashed a quick smile at him, and thankfully, Deacon wasn’t one to wear smiles for miles either.

“Hey, Mish.” Hunter pulled him into a quick hug, and Mission did the same with Mike, who’d once worked the farm before becoming a CEO and moving to the place he’d bought for his wife. “You ready for this?”

“Ready,” Mission said, because he’d been given this role, this promotion. People assumed he deserved it, because it had been given to him. He didn’t have to make excuses or be self-depreciating. He was the foreman.

“Hey, man.” Tuck arrived and shook his hand, pulling him into a hug as he laughed. “You’re going to be so amazing at this.”

“Thank you,” Mission said, starting to feel a little robotic in his movements and what he said. “Have you seen my granddad?”

“Yeah, I saw him,” Tuck said as he turned to survey the crowd gathered under the tent. “I think he asked Cosette for something to drink.”

Concern spiked through Mission, but he told himself worrying over his grandfather wouldn’t make anyone happy. Granddad didn’t need Mission to come pick him up; he could still drive himself. Granddad didn’t want to order his groceries online and have them delivered; he wanted to pick out his own bananas and pork chops.

Mission couldn’t help worrying over him as he aged, so he looked around, hoping he’d come out of the barn with Cosette, something cold to drink in his hand.

“I could use something to drink too.”

“Cosette set up the drinks right around the corner,” Matt said. “I could use something too.” He met Mission’s eyes, and a swell of gratitude moved through him, because Matt wasn’t going to leave Mission alone tonight.

He led the way toward the front corner of the barn, where Kristie happened to be standing. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and she looked his way as he neared.

She smiled, and oh, that rivaled the glory of the early evening sun. Mission wasn’t sure if it was the uneven ground or if he’d temporarily gone blind at the nearness of Kristie’s beauty, but he stumbled.

Jolt after jolt of electricity struck through him, and he managed to throw out his hand, hoping to find something to grab onto.

His hand landed on Matt, and his friend said, “Whoa, there,” as if Mission were a horse who’d been spooked. Maybe he had been.

His granddad came around the corner then, and Mission detoured toward him when he wanted to go over to Kristie and talk to her. About what? he asked himself as he said, “Hey, Granddad.”

“There he is.” His grandfather’s face lit up, and he handed his cup of drink to Matt, who took it like he’d expected to play Mission’s butler that evening. “How are you, my boy?”

“I’m great, Granddad.” Mission hugged him, leaning and sinking into the embrace. “The drive was okay?”

“Fine.”

“I can take you home if it gets too dark.”

“I’ll be fine.” Granddad stepped back, his smile very nearly lifting all the wrinkles in his forehead. “This jacket looks mighty fine on you.”

Mission grinned down at the navy blue blazer. “Thanks, Granddad.” He looked past him to the corner of the barn. “What do they have to drink over there?”

“Lemonade, ice tea, water, soda pops, all kinds of stuff.” He stepped over to Matt and took his drink, then asked him something.

That left Mission to continue to the drink counter by himself. Fine by him. He needed a moment alone right now anyway, after that stumble where he’d nearly gone down in front of Kristie—and everyone else at the party.

He’d barely picked up a red plastic cup when the scent of flowery, fruity perfume met his nose.

“Hey, Mission.”

He looked over to Kristie, so many things running through his head. “Hey.” Always the example of loquacious.

“I like your jacket.”

“Thank you. I—it’s my granddad’s.”

Her face lit up. “Yes, I met him. Very nice guy.”

“Yeah.” Mission smiled, mostly at the way she’d come to life while talking to him. “He’s great.”

“Are your parents coming?”

Mission’s jaw tightened, and he moved down the table to fill his cup with half lemonade and half iced tea. He could brush off her question, avoid it the way he had for the past thirty years of his life. But something about her made him want to tell her.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Mission lifted his cup to his lips and shook his head.

“I didn’t mean….” Kristie looked over her shoulder, then faced him again. She took the cup from him and said, “Come with me.”

If she’d have just walked away, Mission could’ve simply picked up another cup, made another Arnold Palmer, and gone back to the party. No, he wouldn’t be able to ever talk to Kristie again, but if she wanted to talk about his parents, that would be fine.

But she took his hand—a gesture that sent another wave of electricity through him—and led him away from the drink counter, the party, and toward the front barn doors. She slipped inside and he followed, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief after the warmer outdoors.

Mission hadn’t been this nervous since Deacon had offered him the foreman job. But being in the small lobby of the barn with Kristie? His first instinct was to kiss her. Then she wouldn’t be able to ask him anything about his parents. At the same time, he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time, and he really wanted a chance with this woman.

So he couldn’t kiss her, because when he crashed doing that, he’d never get a real first date with her.

He stood there, his hand in hers and his heart flopping around inside his chest, anchorless. Wait, he told himself. Wait for her to say something before you blurt out too much.