Page 83 of Unforgettable
Brett handled the outer edges, keeping the herd moving, his sharp eye catching anything that strayed from the flow.
And Brew, he seamlessly moved between them, as if this world had never been something he stepped away from. As if it had always been waiting for him to step back into it.
“They don’t fight it,” Randi said quietly when Blythe joined her.
“They trust it,” Blythe replied. “There’s a difference.”
Randi watched as Brew rested a hand briefly along the neck of a restless mare, his voice low, calming.
And the horse stilled.
“They know him,” Randi said.
“They know what he carries in his blood, in his heart. It’s in his touch,” Blythe answered. “Thatdoesn’t leave you… no matter how far you go.”
Randi was learning that Brew’s family was special, and being with them had her looking at the world differently – through their eyes, with a more reverent connection with nature and life, that the greatness and strength was gentleness, and to allow wisdom to settle before responding.
By midday, the work had settled into a steady rhythm.
Vaccines. Checks. Movement. Release. It was the kind of labor that required focus more than force.
Randi drifted back toward the house, leaving them to it, her mind carrying the image of Brew in a way she hadn’t expected.
He was not just the man she had met. He was the man he had always been. Being here with him in his true environment, made her seethe man he needed to be again and the man she was falling in love with.
Whoa! Did I just think that?
She halted abruptly and looked around, expecting that others moving about the ranch performing their duties had heard what she was thinking.
No one did. She exhaled and moved forward, her steps mindless. She found the realization comforting, not fearful, and deliciously surprising. She never thought she would ever feel that way.
Slow. Need to take it slow,she reminded herself and needed to find a place where she could think.
By the time the last of the herd had been released, the sun sat high and warm overhead.
The four men stood near the fence, sweat-dampened and quietin the way that came after a long stretch of work well done.
Branson leaned against the post, pulling his hat back to swipe at the sweat on his forehead, the wind catching his long hair.
“You still remember how to do more than hold a scalpel, brother.”
Brew let out a quiet breath, a faint smile touching his mouth.
“Barely.”
“Looks like it came back to you just fine,” Brett added, tossing a glance his way. “City didn’t ruin you after all.”
“Not completely, brother. I miss it though.” Brew said.
His father said nothing at first. He rarely did. But when he spoke, it mattered.
“You came back for more than the work.”
It wasn’t a question.
Brew’s gaze shifted briefly toward the house. Then back to his dad.
“Yeah.”
