This Place Called Home: Includes Bonus Story! (Forget-Me-Not Ranch) Read online

  “But I’ll miss you, sweetie.” She knelt down and gave the dog a kiss. After Nash had left the room last night, Jasper had jumped up on the bed with her, snuggling in against her side as though he wanted to comfort her while she fell asleep. “At least someone understands me.” She stood back up and walked across the room.

  On the way to the dress, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Yikes. That beautiful updo the stylist had fashioned yesterday before the wedding had died a horrible death overnight, leaving behind a mess of frizz and tangles, with bobby pins sticking out at random angles.

  There was no time to fix it though. It was already past eight, and she didn’t need Nash thinking she was lazy in addition to crazy. “It’ll be fine,” she said to the dog while she slipped out of the man’s clothes and picked up the wedding dress.

  “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.” Though she had to admit the thought of not seeing Agatha did make her sad. They would simply have to keep in touch. She had offered to help the woman out with a nonprofit, after all. So maybe she’d come back sometime.

  Just not when Nash was home.

  “Okay. Here goes.” She shimmied up the dress until she could fit her arms through the straps. Nearly popping her shoulders out of the socket, she managed to get it mostly zipped up, and then she turned back to the mirror.

  Great. With the bloodstains on the dress and the tangles in her hair, she looked like she’s stepped off the set of a Bridezilla horror movie.

  Jasper didn’t seem to mind. He trotted over and licked her hand. She could see why having a dog would be good for someone’s self-esteem.

  “All right. No more stalling.” Making sure to hold her head high, Mack opened the door and walked down the hallway as regally as she could, knowing how pathetic she looked.

  When she walked into the great room, both Nash and Agatha abruptly stopped talking.

  Nash stood by the coffee pot in the kitchen, but Agatha sat at a breakfast table she’d piled high with delectable food.

  Mack marched right to her, completely ignoring Nash.

  “Good morning, Agatha,” she said trying to be polite even though all she wanted to do was get the hell out of there. “I was wondering if you have my car keys?”

  The woman looked confused. “Why did you put your dress back on?” she asked, not answering Mack’s question.

  Her face heated. “I need to be going.” She gazed steadily at Agatha not daring to look in Nash’s direction. “I just need my keys.”

  “I see.” The woman shot a questioning glare in the direction of the coffee pot before smiling contritely at Mack. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but I seem to have misplaced your keys for the moment.”

  She patted one of the side pockets on her overalls. “They were in here, I’m afraid, and now they’re not. Can’t say exactly where they might’ve fallen out. I’ve been all over the ranch this morning tending to the animals.”

  “Oh.” Mack tried not to panic. She was stuck here? With Nash? “I guess I’ll have to go out and look for them then.” Wearing her shabby wedding dress and yellow polka-dotted boots…

  “Don’t be silly.” Agatha stood and pulled out the chair next to her. “We’ll have a nice breakfast first. Then we can all look for the keys together.”

  Mack didn’t miss the way the woman kept frowning in her nephew’s direction.

  “I’ve made my famous flapjacks with strawberry syrup,” she said, gesturing to the spread on the table. “And Nash has brewed up the coffee. He makes the best coffee.”

  For the first time since she’d come out of hiding, Mack let herself look at Nash. He had one of those unreadable faces, classically handsome with a strong square jaw, alluring curved lips, and those captivating eyes. But somehow his face managed to remain completely expressionless.

  “We’d love for you to have breakfast with us, wouldn’t we, Nash?” An ominous warning resounded through Agatha’s tone.

  “Sure.” Nash was obviously too smart to disagree. He carted the coffee pot over to the table and sat on the opposite side, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness crowding the room.

  Mack, however, felt very affected, but she’d learned how to play a part. “Okay. That’s fine. I can stay for breakfast. But after that, I’ll have to find my keys.” She gathered in her dress and gracelessly lowered herself to the chair.

  While she dished up the plates, Agatha made small talk about how she’d decided the goats were now healthy enough to move out of her house and back into the stable. “That means you’re welcome to stay in my spare room,” she said, turning to Mack. “I’ve got it all cleaned up and ready for company.”

  “Oh.” Mack stopped her fork midway to her mouth. While Agatha had educated them on the goat’s illness, she’d managed to nearly finish her food. “That’s okay. I don’t need to stay.”

  Not with Judgy McJudgerson over there watching her like he was evaluating her mental health status. “I should probably get back home so my parents don’t worry about me.” Though she’d called her parents last night to tell them she was fine but would be taking some time to sort things out.

  Her mother had spent thirty minutes going over the list of people who were shocked and hurt by her actions—including the priest who was supposed to preside over the wedding.

  As gently as she could, Mack had asked her mom how many more people would’ve been hurt if she’d married someone she didn’t love and things had fallen apart later.

  In true Sandra Benson fashion, she’d ignored the question and had instead gone on and on about how Mack could’ve learned to love Evan. Love took time, she’d said.

  But something had been missing. Mack couldn’t even say for sure what it was. Even though her heart hurt and she regretted waiting so long to break things off, this strange peace had settled over her the moment she’d arrived at the ranch.

  “You are still planning to help me turn the ranch into a nonprofit, right?” Agatha’s eyes had moved beyond puppy-dog pleading. “Because I have so many ideas but I don’t know how to make any of them happen.”

  “Wait. What? A nonprofit?” Those were the first words Nash had spoken since they’d all sat down at the table.

  “Mack offered to help me get this place up and running. So we could take donations and be a real nonprofit,” Agatha informed her nephew.

  His permanent frown deepened. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “But she’s the perfect one to help me. She has a very important job in the city and all kinds of connections.” Agatha prompted Mack with a raise of her eyebrows. “Isn’t that right?”

  Oh, boy. She was terrible at this, at disappointing people. “Yes. And I’d love to help, but—”

  “There are no buts,” the woman said firmly. “You told me you needed a few more days away from home, and this is the perfect chance for you to take a break. I desperately need the help. Especially since Nash won’t be staying long.” She gazed at her nephew with pursed lips. “Am I right?”

  The man hesitated. “I have to head back to work soon. But we have a lot to talk about first.”

  Agatha seemed to ignore him, aiming that warm friendly smile at Mack instead. “I would really appreciate it if you could spare a few days to come up with some recommendations for me.”

  How could Mack say no to that? “I suppose I could spare a few days.”

  As long as she didn’t have to sleep in Nash’s bed.

  First things first, they really had to get Mack out of that unsightly dress. Agatha carried the last plate to the sink where Mack had insisted on cleaning up after breakfast.

  Oh, was Mack a sight standing there at the sink with her hair all wild and that dress looking like it had been through the wringer.

  Agatha had noticed throughout their meal together that Mack’s hair and the dress hadn’t stopped Nash from looking at the woman. It had seemed more like curiosity than anything, but curiosity also meant interest in her book. Curiosity meant he wasn’t ignoring Mack the
way he’d ignored every other woman around his age.

  Curiosity meant there was hope. All the two of them needed was a little help.

  “Why don’t we go shopping?” Agatha suggested drying one of the bowls Mack had washed. “We can get you some new clothes that will be more appropriate for working on the ranch.”

  Mack looked down at her dress, her mouth pulled into a grimace. “I guess I’ll need to. But I can’t go shopping like this.”

  Yes, it would be rather embarrassing for the poor girl to parade around town in her current state. “Hmmm…”

  Before Agatha could come up with any solutions, Nash sauntered over from where he’d been wiping down the table. “Far as I know, there’s a box of women’s clothes still stashed in the attic.”

  The boxes in the attic. His mother’s things. When Mack had first gotten here, it had occurred to Agatha that the box might still be there, but it had felt wrong for her to go up and look through all of Nash’s memories.

  Her nephew tossed the rag into the sink, keeping a good distance. “I can head up there and bring it down.” He glanced in Mack’s direction but, to Agatha, it sure seemed he was doing his darnedest to look through the woman instead of at her.

  “You’re welcome to them,” he added. “I need to get rid of a bunch of stuff around here anyway.”

  Why is that? Agatha wanted to ask. But she knew better. Nash didn’t want to keep the ranch. He wanted to be rid of it—rid of the land and the memories altogether. He’d clearly forgotten how much he’d loved this place as a boy—before his mom left, before his father died. He’d had the same connection to it as she did.

  Mack seemed stunned by his offer to let her go through the box of clothes. “Oh, um sure, yeah. I could borrow a couple of things. Only to go shopping in and then I can return them.”

  “No need,” he said dismissively. “I have no use for any of that stuff.”

  Agatha harrumphed. No use for the memories, more like. If Nash had anything to say about it, they’d forget the good along with the bad. Only no one escaped their childhood without memories—both scars and smiles.

  “I’ll go get the box.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving her and Mack alone.

  “I really don’t want to impose,” Mack said, wiping her hands on a towel. She wore that wary expression again—the one she’d donned through most of their breakfast. “You could go shopping for me. I can give you my sizes—”

  “It’s not imposing at all,” Agatha assured her. “Besides, it’s good for him to open up those boxes.”

  Mack glanced down the hall as though she wanted to make sure he was out of earshot. “Why, whose clothes were they?”

  “His mother’s. She was about your size. A beauty, too.” Agatha had never felt quite comfortable around Josephine. She’d been one of those women who purposefully made other women feel bad about themselves even when they were happy with who they were. “They’re nice clothes, trust me. She had very expensive taste.”

  “I don’t care about nice clothes.”

  Agatha had to laugh at that. “That, my dear, is obvious. Based on your treatment of that expensive dress.”

  For the first time all morning, Mack’s face broke into a wide smile. She had a wonderful smile—a bit crooked on the left side and so broad it changed her face and lit her eyes. “I’ve never been able to wear white. I always spill coffee or food on it.”

  Grinning, Agatha pointed to the brown stain on her shirt. “I knew I liked you.” They both had a good chuckle, but it got cut short when Nash stormed back into the living room.

  “Here you go.” He dumped the box on the couch and hurried into the entryway to pull on his boots.

  Oh, that boy! Of course he was running out now. “Where are you going?” she demanded. Would it kill him to stay in for a while and be polite to their guest?

  “Out to check the animals.” He flashed Agatha a smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I can’t wait to see how many new arrivals we have.”

  “Only a few,” she fibbed. “Check the goats for me, will you?” If he insisted on going out right now, she’d put him to work. “Sure seems like they’re out of the woods, but it’d be nice to get a professional opinion.”

  He gave her a nod and then shot out the door. Agatha wasn’t sure what was pushing him—that box of clothes he obviously didn’t want to see the inside of or his blatant curiosity about Mack.

  As soon as the front door slammed shut, Mack went to sit on the couch next to the box. “He doesn’t want me here.”

  “That’s not true at all.” Agatha rushed over to join the young woman before she got any notions about leaving again. “He doesn’t want to be here, that’s all it is. He’s like this every time he comes home. Can’t sit still. Keeps himself so busy he doesn’t have the time to notice anything.”

  The poor boy had been running ever since his father passed. “But this place is a part of him whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.” The same way it was a part of her.

  Mack lifted her head and stared out the windows that overlooked the jagged ridges of the Sawatch Range. Agatha stared too. Even after all these years, that view was one of her favorites.

  “I don’t know what it would be like to have a place be part of me.”

  Agatha waited. Most times patience is what opened people up the most.

  “I mean, I grew up in a huge beautiful house in a gated neighborhood, but it never felt like it was part of me.”

  Home was so much more than a house, though, Agatha knew that to be true. She’d tried hard to build a sense of home for Nash even after he’d lost both of his parents, but he’d put up too many walls. “Home should be freeing. A place where you feel protected and safe, where you feel like the truest version of yourself.”

  Mack turned to her. “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that way anywhere.”

  Agatha guessed Nash would say the same thing. “Well, sometimes it takes a while to find that place. But once you do, you’ll know. You’ll know better than you’ve ever known anything in your life.”

  Chapter 7

  The goats were more than fine if you asked him.

  Nash stashed his stethoscope in his bag and pulled off his gloves. Weeks ago, he’d sent Agatha enough doses of CD antitoxin to get the goats through the illness, and, as always, the remedy worked like a charm.

  The four of them were running around grazing on whatever they could find like nothing had ever happened. “You four look a little fatter than you did the last time I was home,” he muttered, slipping out of the pen and latching the gate.

  No surprise there. His aunt tended to spoil the animals in her care, and he had a feeling the goats had been eating like kings. Nothing but the best for the animals at the Forget-Me-Not Ranch.

  The only problem with that was they were running out of money. And now his aunt wanted to turn the place into a nonprofit. That would take funds too. Funds for a brand and marketing materials and fundraising events and communications. It would take funds they simply didn’t have.

  Nash continued on his route to the horse stables, shaking his head the whole way. If only he’d come home a few days before, then maybe his aunt’s new best friend wouldn’t be staying here. Maybe Mack wouldn’t be giving his aunt false hope that she could actually start her own nonprofit. They had no reason to trust her.

  Before heading into the dark stable, Nash pulled out his phone and typed Mackenzie Benson Denver into the search bar. He was sure his aunt had mentioned the last name Benson.

  Based on the many search results that came up, Mack—and her family—was well-known in Denver. He clicked on the first article, which was titled, From Wedding of the Century to Runaway Bride, and scanned the pictures and text.

  It seemed the woman had actually walked into the church and was on her way down the aisle when she’d had a change of heart. One picture showed her fiancé standing under an arch, reaching out his hand with a stricken look on his face. Must’ve been taken the
second she chose to bolt.

  Reading the article made him feel a little better. It seemed commitment wasn’t her strong point. It would take both a lot of time and a lot of effort to turn this place into a viable nonprofit. With any luck, Mack would bolt again before that could happen.

  He stuck the phone back in his pocket and stepped into the stable. Fancy Pants, Big Ben, and Mystique were all quietly munching on the hay his aunt must’ve dumped into their trough earlier.

  “Hey there.” Big Ben had been his dad’s horse and was Nash’s favorite animal at the ranch, not that he would ever admit that to Agatha.

  He gave the horse an affectionate pat. “Looking good old man.”

  Big Ben tossed his head regally and then went back to the hay as though intent on ignoring Nash as punishment for being gone so long.

  “Don’t give me that.” He slipped a carrot out of his pocket. He never came back from a long absence without them.

  The horse’s nostrils flared and he lifted his head, coming at Nash in his arthritic gait.

  “Oh, now you like me again.” He held the carrot flat in his hand so the horse could gobble it up. In some ways, Big Ben was his last connection to his dad. The man had been a good father—a good man—but he’d never been able to get past Nash’s mom leaving.

  His dad’s early death used to make Nash angry. Why hadn’t his father simply moved on with his life? Why hadn’t he taken care of himself? Why hadn’t he taken care of his son? Instead, those responsibilities all fell on Agatha. She’d kept the ranch afloat, kept Nash afloat…

  “The horses are beautiful.”

  At the sound of Mack’s voice, Nash whirled. He must’ve left the door open. How long had she been standing there?

  “Have you guys had them a long time?” She walked closer, crossing from the dim shadows into the light where he could see her, and the sight hit him like a punch to the gut.

  She’d obviously cleaned herself up. Her golden blond-streaked hair hung in loose waves down past her shoulders, framing her striking face.