The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,66

grin on his face. The two of them held one another’s gaze, both smiling. Bear sobered first, as he usually did. He hadn’t gone full grizzly in a long, long time though. At least five months, and Ranger knew who that achievement really belonged to.

“Seriously,” Bear said. “If there’s something I can do to help with…whatever it is. I will.”

“I know,” Ranger said, looking away. “And if I could help you with Sammy, I would.”

“I know,” Bear said. He adjusted in the saddle and turned Bertha to continue his work for the day. “Text me the weight, Range.”

“Will do,” he called after his cousin before looking back out into the corral. The four semis had been loaded, and four more had taken their place. Over half the cattle had been loaded, and Ranger’s nervous stomach returned as he thought about what weight he’d like to see on the scales that day.

Maybe a knot or two belonged to Bear and the conversations he needed to have with the woman he so obviously loved. If Bear was thinking about family, marriage, and where he and his wife would live, he’d definitely fallen in love.

Ranger wondered what being in love even felt like, as he’d never been there before.

A couple of knots—or several—definitely belonged to Oakley, and what he should do about that goldarn text.

“Ranger,” Ward called, and he turned toward his brother. “We’re ready. You ready?”

Ranger lifted his hand to indicate he’d heard, and he started toward the semi. Yes, he was ready to get on the road. “Talk to Ward,” he muttered to himself. That was what he needed to do about Oakley’s text. A sense of calmness came over him, and he knew that was the Lord telling him to get some outside, impartial help with the text.

He hoped Ward was ready for this drive—and this conversation.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sammy wished Bear drove an older model truck. One with a bench seat in the front, so she could slide all the way over and ride next to him. She missed the days where she rode next to her boyfriend, his hand on her leg while they trundled around Three Rivers.

She’d had a couple of boyfriends in high school who drove beat-up pickups, and that was Sammy’s favorite kind of transportation. Bear had a lot more money than her high school boyfriends, though, and his truck couldn’t be more than two or three years old.

It had bucket seats in the front, with a bulky console between them and a bench seat in the back. Bear could reach her and hold her hand, but it wasn’t the same.

“Oh, wow,” she said as he turned and the arch over the road announced their arrival at Shiloh Ridge. She’d driven underneath it at least a hundred times in the past six months. She’d appreciated the craftsmanship of it, as well as the elegant way it welcomed all to the ranch while also marking their territory.

She’d never seen it decked out in layers of ivy, holly berries, or mistletoe. She peered up at it through the windshield as Bear said, “I tried to tell you.”

“That you did,” she said. “Is that mistletoe for real?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Bear said, and she couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. “Judge orders it from the local florist on the first. He’s always on the list when it comes in, and he’ll have it all over the ranch by Halloween.”

Sammy blinked, trying to process the information. Judge did have a bit of a decorating streak in him, and he cared about details. The mistletoe fit his personality pretty well. “Surprising,” she said. “There’s not a lot of women up here to kiss, is there?”

Bear chuckled and shook his head. “My mother and my sister. Some cousins. We had one female ranch hand for a while, about five years ago.”

Sammy grinned at the thought of that poor woman and all this mistletoe. “So interesting.”

He turned down the road that would lead them around the homestead to the house where Sammy had secretly met with his brothers to plan his birthday party. The last of the light winked in the sky, and she sighed as she settled back against her seat.

“I don’t do a whole lot for Christmas,” she said.

“That’s because my family has stolen most of the festivity from the whole town.” He definitely held a dark bite in his tone now.

“I think it’s sweet,” she said.

“I think it gets in the way,” he said. “It’s fine, obviously, but I don’t