Book 5: His Fifth Kiss (Ivory Peaks Romance)

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A piece that had been knocked loose inside Michael Hammond found the right place to be as the familiar pine trees lining the road went by. “I’ve missed Ivory Peaks,” he said.

“Mm.” His father drove, and Mike’s memories ran at him fast and hard. He’d come to work this farm every summer since the age of twelve. He’d met a pretty girl here—Gerty—and he’d kissed her. His first kiss. Hers too.

They’d been real friendly for years, but the past two times he’d come back to the family farm, she hadn’t been here. The first time, he’d tried to find out where she’d gone. Her father, who still worked for Uncle Gray, had said she was down in Texas, doing farrier school. 

Gerty would always work with horses, Mike knew that. For some reason, he’d expected her to stay right here in Colorado, on his uncle’s farm, and wait for him to get out of the military.

She hadn’t, unless she was waiting at the familiar farmhouse around the bend in the road Mike knew by heart. His pulse jumped, but he told himself she wouldn’t be there. Why would she be there? He hadn’t spoken to her in thirteen and a half years, after that last summer after his senior year, when he’d gone to college and then enrolled in the Marines.

He’d become a helicopter pilot, just like he’d told his father he wanted to become. Now, at age thirty-one, he had to have his daddy drive him home after his honorable discharge from the military.

“Looks like they’ve got everyone in off the farm,” Dad said as the big red barn where Molly, Mike’s cousin-in-law, ran her children’s equine therapy program. Stables and more barns, horse rings, paddocks, and pastures ran to the west, and across the wide pasture sat the farmhouse, as well as the generational house where Mike’s grandfather had once lived.

He’d come back to the farm for his grandfather’s last few days on earth, and then the funeral. Forty hours later, he’d been back in the Middle East, with completely different people and a completely different climate. 

Oh, how he missed Colorado.

Dad rolled down his window, and the cheers and whistles of the cowboys and cowgirls gathered along the fence came in through the window. Mike’s face heated, and he wanted to turn away.

“I don’t need this,” he murmured.

“They miss you,” Dad said. “Be nice.”

“I am nice, Dad.” Mike used to swallow his tongue when his dad told him to be nice. Now, he didn’t have to. He wasn’t fifteen, or even twenty-five. He was a grown man, and just because he had a hurt shoulder right now didn’t mean he needed to be lectured by his daddy about how to be nice. “I just don’t know any of them that well.”

“You know Matt,” Dad said, his voice aged and gravelly. Mike hadn’t gotten married yet, but his younger brother Easton had. Mike had come home for that too, and he’d been back in Coral Canyon for about four months, recovering. But now that summer had arrived, Dad had brought him to the farm.

Always the farm.

“Oh, there’s Elise,” his mom said from the back seat. 

Mike saw his Aunt Elise, and she’d aged gracefully. She was far younger than Dad or Uncle Gray, and she still wore pretty sundresses that made her seem more youthful than she was. None of Uncle Gray’s younger kids had gotten married, though Jane had been engaged for about eight months last year.

He caught sight of Hunter, and a dose of extreme guilt punched Mike in the gut. “Dad,” he said, but he couldn’t get his voice to say anything else. He knew he’d disappointed his father by joining the military instead of coming back to the greater Denver area to take over the family company. 

Hunter had been running it for close to seventeen years now, and he and Molly had four children. Mike had looked up to Hunter for his entire life. He couldn’t see himself anywhere near Hunter’s stature in only thirteen more years, which was how many years older Hunt was than Mike.

He wouldn’t be married with four kids in even fifteen years. He wouldn’t be running the huge family company, with a beautiful wife running her own business. He wouldn’t own this farm, live in this beautiful farmhouse, or have any of the serenity or happiness Hunt had.

In truth, Mike was absolutely miserable.

That’s not the right word, he thought as Dad brought the truck to a stop. He rolled up the window, and Mike waited patiently for his mother to come help him unbuckle his seatbelt. He hated this part, and he locked his jaw while Momma opened the door.

Their eyes met, and Mike did his best to put a smile on his face. “Thanks, Momma.”

“I know you hate this,” she said, reaching across his lap to undo the belt. “But I have a really good feeling about this summer.” She gave him a smile. “Easton and Allison will be here in a couple of weeks, and Opal has a week or two off from her residency, and she just told me she’d come to the farm.” 

She smiled at Mike like this was just fabulous news, and Mike supposed it was. He really just wanted to be shown to his cabin; he wanted to close the door behind him; he wanted to be alone.

As the cowboys who’d cheered for him crowded around the truck, Mike didn’t think he’d be alone for at least a few hours. Aunt Elise had likely been cooking for hours—days, even—and Mike stayed in his seat as his mother stepped back.

Lord, he thought, but he couldn’t finish the prayer. He didn’t know what to say anyway, and he realized that he wasn’t miserable.

He was lost. 

“Come on, son,” Daddy said, and Mike slid out of the truck and landed on his feet. He could walk just fine. His right shoulder just didn’t work anymore, and no amount of therapy, painkillers, surgery, or prayer had healed him.

He hadn’t given up, but he didn’t know where else to turn. Thus, when his parents had suggested they come to the farm for the summer, Mike hadn’t had any reason they shouldn’t.

“Mikey,” Uncle Gray said, and Mike didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t go by that nickname anymore. He was an officer in the Marines, and he hadn’t been Mikey for over ten years. 

Uncle Gray grinned at him, every strand of hair on his face and head the color of his name. He pulled Mike into a hug, and Mike put his good arm around his uncle. For some reason, his eyes burned with tears, and he clung to Uncle Gray so no one would see until he could compose himself.

“Welcome home, son,” Uncle Gray said, and when he stepped back, Mike actually felt like he’d come home. His cousins came to greet him, and then the cowboys. Mike did his best to smile and laugh with all of them.

Cord Behr was still here. Travis Thatcher. Cosette and Boone. Matt and Gloria. Keith and Britt hugged him simultaneously, and Mike felt a new kind of kinship move through him with the Whettstein kids. Keith was only a year older than him, and Mike looked him in the eye.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Yeah.” Keith nodded. “Been back about two years?” He looked at his father. “Almost three, I guess.”

To Mike’s knowledge, Keith wasn’t married either, and he suddenly didn’t feel so alone.

“I’m a counselor here now,” Britt said, her absolutely bright personality exactly the same as it had been as a child. She was tall and willowy, with long, thin limbs, and bright blonde hair, a pair of blue eyes to go with it.

She reminded him slightly of Gerty, and Mike found himself looking around for her. It seemed like the news of his return to the Hammond Family Farm had reached far and wide, and perhaps Gertrude Whettstein would be here.

He didn’t want to ask Keith or Britt, so he walked with them toward the steps that led to the porch. Aunt Elise hugged him and put an arm around him. “Come eat,” she said, smiling all the while. Aunt Elise was the epitome of kindness, and his mother had been best friends with her for decades.

He didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, but he couldn’t hide the sling his arm sat in. He didn’t want eyes on him, but everyone stared at him. He did his best to talk to everyone, eat everything his aunt and mother put in front of him, and laugh with as much authenticity as he could muster.

After an hour, he met his father’s eyes, and Dad stood up from the table where he’d been sitting with Hunt and Uncle Gray. “Let’s go see the horses,” he said, and he opened his arm for Mike to step into.

He nodded and did just that. Dad went outside with him, but he didn’t come down the steps with Mike. “You go on,” he said, and Mike didn’t hesitate. He walked the length of the fence alone, his steps somewhat halting because he couldn’t swing his right arm.

“Mike!” 

He turned and found Jane jogging toward him. She made him smile, and he laughed as she reached him and threw her arms around him. She wasn’t careful with him, and Mike appreciated that. Sometimes his parents looked at him like their eyes alone would shatter him. Jane didn’t treat him like that, and he hugged her hard with his left arm.

“There’s so many people inside.” She exhaled and ran her hands down the front of her body. “So many questions.”

“Tell me about it,” Mike said. They started walking again, and he didn’t want to start in on the questions for Jane either. “Are you staying here for the summer?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jane said, her voice pitching up. She exhaled again. “I just quit my job actually. I’m starting at HMC next week. Accounting.”

“You’re kidding.” Mike felt like someone had hollowed out his chest. “That’s great, Jane.”

“Do you really think so?” She looked at him, and Mike cut her a glance out of the corner of his eye. 

“I mean, it makes me feel like a loser, but yeah. It’s great.”

“You’re not a loser,” she said quietly but with plenty of emphasis. “You’re an amazing pilot, and you served your country for almost eight years.” Every word she spoke filled him with more confidence. “Just because you don’t get a check from HMC doesn’t mean you’re not amazing.”

Mike wanted to show her his dysfunctional arm; he wanted to argue; he wanted to tell her all his fears. He didn’t say anything as they continued toward the barn.

“You datin’ anyone?” he asked.

“Oh, now you sound like my mother,” Jane said dryly.

Mike laughed. “At least she’s askin’. My momma knows everything I do, all day long. Every day.” He needed space, and the wide open sky, and to get lost in these mountains. His soul settled as a pretty bay horse looked his way.

Jane’s phone rang, and she said, “Speak of the devil.” She answered the call and said, “Yes, Momma, I just got here.”  She rolled her eyes at Mike and went back the way she’d come. “I’ll be right in.”

Mike smiled at her back, because Jane could be a touch overdramatic sometimes. She was a genius with figures and numbers, and she knew exactly who she was. That was why she’d called off her wedding only five weeks before the I-do’s, and why she could quit a good job and go to work at HMC.

He went down the footpath between the administration barn and the pasture, his goal the very last stable. He surely wouldn’t know any of the horses here at Pony Power now, but his pulse settled into a slower rhythm as he approached the bay at the fence.

“Hey,” he said, reaching to let the horse smell him. The animal ducked his head and nosed Mike’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s not really working right now. I can’t ride you or anything.” He gave the bay a sad smile. Mike couldn’t drive. He couldn’t ride a horse. He couldn’t do a lot of things, and he had the distinct thought that he needed to start learning how to do things one-handed, because his shoulder wasn’t ever going to be all the way better.

He didn’t want to accept that, and he left the bay at the fence and headed for the far stables. Maybe he could lead a horse out to the remote cabin where he’d first kissed Gerty.

The pasture beyond the last stable held several horses, all of them spread out and dotting the area. He put one foot up on the bottom rung and watched them graze. A couple of them looked at him, and a deep, dark black horse came plodding toward him.

Mike smiled at it, but the horse didn’t seem to be looking at him. It nickered and called, and Mike twisted to look over his shoulder.

“Mikey.”

When Gertrude Whettstein said his teenage nickname, Mike didn’t mind at all. He could only stare at the woman standing twenty feet from him. She wore jeans, and she was just as straight up and down as she’d always been. Thin and lithe, strong and sexy, and he wasn’t embarrassed he’d thought that.

She wore her dirty blonde hair in a ponytail high on top of her head, and she tucked her hands in her back pockets, her bony elbows poking out to the sides as she studied him. 

He turned fully and stumbled toward her. “What are you doing here?”

Something hard crossed her face. “Am I not allowed to be here?”

“No, it’s just—just—” He couldn’t find the words. “I—the last couple of times I’ve been here, you haven’t been.”

“I’ve been in Texas,” she said. “Montana. Up in Calgary. Around.” She shrugged one shoulder, and Mike sure did like her blue and white tank top. It was simple and beautiful, which was Gerty through and through.

“How long are you going to be here?” he asked.

Gerty looked across the pasture, her shoulders and chest lifting with a big breath. “I don’t rightly know.”

Mike grinned, the world suddenly brighter and more open than it had been five minutes ago. “You don’t rightly know?” he teased. He’d never heard her talk like that before.

She faced him again, a smile flickering against her lips. Gerty fought against giving him that grin, something she’d done in the past. She’d present him with it eventually, and Mike moved toward her until he stood only a pace away.

“Go out with me,” he said, feeling braver and stronger than he had since his helicopter had gone down. 

“You don’t even know if I’m single,” she said, raising that chin he’d once held in one hand just before he kissed her. 

“Are you?” he asked.

Gerty pressed her teeth together, and Mike had his answer. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook, though, and he waited. And waited. A smile came to his face as he…waited for her to tell him she was, in fact, single.