Page 1 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter One

Knox Alexander

If you workedon the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch, you didn’t miss Sunday evening “church” unless you were bleeding or dead. Even then, someone would argue that you should be there.

You wouldn’t find a building with a steeple, and no knee-breaking pews or hymnals in sight. Just a bunch of military vets and ranch hands sitting about on lawn chairs around a large fire pit with the Lone Grizzly Mountains behind us, the big sky above.

Technically a big potluck, nobody remembered who first named it “church.” Maybe Chris or Ash, the first of us to arrive at the ranch, but these Sunday evening gatherings with food and beer and fellowship became something sacred. Even the Wylde sisters joined in, becoming more like family than friendly neighbors.

Their presence improved things immensely among this rowdy group. Which was why my ass remained planted on a bench, a beer in hand I’d barely touched, because Daisy Wyldesat five feet away, tipping a mason jar of strawberry wine to her rosy lips like she needed it more than air.

A Montana evening like this, with a pretty woman to stare at, was enough to make a man like me pause and think about life for a while. Didn’t help that two of the men here had women now—Ash with Willow seated across his lap, and Colt and Ivy shoulder to shoulder, laughing over an inside joke.

Yeah, seeing them paired off got a man thinking about the future too damn much.

Daisy sighed, flipping her red ponytail behind her. “I’m just saying, Dad’s old hunting coat had a hole chewed through it as big as my fist, probably from a mouse. It belonged on the trash pile,” she argued with her sisters, each with their plates balanced on their laps, discussing their day of cleaning out the attic of their family home.

“Which is why I’ve been pushing for us to do this for a while now. Basement, too. God knows what we’ll find.” Ivy’s eyes left Colt’s long enough to make that point, tossing her long blonde braid over her shoulder. It was as if these two sisters used their hair to position themselves at the start of a battle.

“I know, Ivy. But the trees are heavy with fruit. We should have picked apples today. The house could have waited. The mice could have had a few more nibbles of Dad’s coat.” Daisy retorted and emptied her glass. Then she reached for the bottle of wine and filled it for the third time, which wasn’t like her. I rarely saw her have more than one drink.

“Quit arguing over Dad’s jacket, which is now in my room. I’m going to patch it up and use it to hunt,” Sage said, pushing thick-rimmed glasses up her pert nose. I’d always found her to be the more practical of the four Wylde ladies.

“Don’t you have like two already?” That was Poppy, showing her youth with every word and eye roll.

“Can’t have too many in my opinion,” I quipped to no one in particular, scratching through my beard. At least Colt to my right chuckled at that.

He also attempted to enter the conversation. “You made good progress today on the attic, from what I could tell of all the boxes in the yard when I picked Ivy up tonight.”

“Thirty years of family life to sort through was more work today than I expected it to be, I’ll give you that,” Ivy conceded. Daisy grinned, the victor in this small sisterly squabble. “It helped that we made rules. Keep, donate, or trash.”

“Sounds ruthless,” I said.

“It had to be. Otherwise we’d still be up there arguing over broken dishes and old newspapers Dad could never throw out,” Daisy explained.

“We kept the important things,” Ivy added, her voice softening just enough to shift the surrounding air.

“Yeah. Photos. Mom’s wedding gown. Dad’s journals,” Sage supplied.

“Those were not up for debate.” Daisy pointed with her glass. “I only skimmed a few pages, but apparently he noted what we were doing almost every single day since we were born. Of course, I kept them.”

Poppy piped up. “Which feels a little invasive, but also kind of sweet and amazing that he did that.”

“Dad wrote all his observations about life. I admired that about him.” Sage gazed wistfully away, and if I had to guess, with wet eyes.

“The man was obsessive about his note-taking.” Daisy shook her head. “But if it weren’t for following his notes in theledgers at the orchard shed, we wouldn’t have the plentiful crop we’re seeing this year.”

A weighted pause settled in, thick and heavy, like something they weren’t admitting.

Sage cleared her throat. “It’s the anniversary of their passing this week.”

Fuck. The anniversary. That explained everything about her mood tonight.

Daisy went still, as if her body had forgotten how to move. Only our eyes met. Despair, heartbreak, stress… I could read each one of the emotions filling her wet eyes in a rare moment where she almost let me in.

If no one was around, I’d offer her a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold, and a chest to lay her head on and rest a while. But then, just as quickly, she glanced away, with her hand knuckle-white around the jar at her lips, gulping down the wine.

“I bet your dad would’ve been proud to see you girls working things out,” Ash added.