Here With Me: An Ex-boyfriend’s Dad, Age Gap Small Town Romance (Sugarland Creek Book 1)
Here With Me: Chapter 20

Keeping my eyes off Noah when she’s sitting across from me is a skill I didn’t know I’d need.

It doesn’t help that every time she brushes her shoe against mine, I’m quickly reminded of where we are when her grandmother inches closer.

After Mrs. Hollis said the prayer, Gramma Grace promised to tell the story of how she met their grandfather after dinner. Then she looked at me and winked.

Fortunately, the conversation switched to the fundraiser, turning their focus away from me.

“We have a busy week ahead of us to get prepared. It’s all hands on deck,” Garrett says, his attention pointed at the four boys.

“I like how Noah plans an event, and we all get roped into it,” Wilder scoffs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is helpin’ rescue horses above your morality code?” Noah’s overly sweet tone has her other brothers cackling.

“That’s where ya screwed up thinkin’ Wilder has one of those at all.” Landen nudges her.

Wilder leans back, wraps his arm behind Noah, and smacks Landen on the other side of her.

Dena cuts in. “Knock it off, y’all. We have company.”

I look up from my plate as if I hadn’t noticed nor am bothered by it.

“That reminds me, one of the judges can’t make it, which means we’re down one,” Garrett says. “I was gonna email a couple on the waitlist to replace a replacement. But with it bein’ last minute, I’m not sure we’ll fill it.”

“I can do it,” I blurt out after swallowing my food, and everyone’s head snaps toward me. Quickly, I clear my throat. “I was hopin’ to help in some way.”

Noah’s eyes flick from mine to her father’s.

“You wanna judge?” Garrett asks.

I nod. “Yeah, sure.”

“I love that idea!” Dena gushes. “You should bring your rig, too. I bet the kids would love to see how you work on hooves or mold shoes.”

“That’d be pretty cool,” Tripp adds. “You know how to judge?”

I grin. “I’ve been to enough rodeos in my lifetime. I think I can manage.”

“That’d be really nice of you,” Noah says, flashing me a secret smile. “I’ll add your name to the brochure.”

“I’m sure Jase will like that too,” Dena says. “He’s workin’ the booth for his real estate agent’s office.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that to me this mornin’.”

When he told me, I was a bit surprised since I know he hates being on the ranch and around horses. But it makes sense for networking purposes.

The rest of the dinner conversation goes over their plans to prepare the training center for the competitions. There’s still plenty to do in five days, and I plan to help Noah however I can because she’s stressing out about getting it all done on time.

“I’m available to help with anythin’ extra y’all need,” I say. “Put me to work.”

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that…” Waylon mutters, and laughter echoes from the boys.

“On Thursday, the bleachers need to be put up,” Garrett tells the twins, then directs his attention to Landen and Tripp. “We need to make room for the incomin’ horses, so the boarders need to be moved to either the family or retreat barn. Double up the ones that get along, but we need fifteen stalls. That doesn’t include the space we need for the sheep.”

“The fields behind the center need mowin’ for parkin’, too,” Noah says.

“And what’re you gonna be doin’?” Wilder snaps.

“You wanna list?” When she drops her fork and whips out her phone, I know she’s about to put him in his place.

She clears her throat. “Get tables and chairs for booths, confirm food trucks, email the itinerary to all the sponsors and trainers, set up the silent auction at The Lodge, get horseback ridin’ sign-ups posted, write my speeches, make sure the trainin’ center is ready and cleaned, set up emcee’s and judge’s tables, confirm we’ll have bathrooms arrivin’ on time, oh…and all the marketin’ and networkin’ I organized with newspapers across the state on top of the written interviews they sent me.” She shifts her eyes to Wilder with a murderous glare. “And that doesn’t even include my own trainin’ and talkin’ to clients I’m still required to do.”

The room goes silent.

“Sounds like ya need an assistant,” I mutter with a grin, silently volunteering for the position. Though I’m plenty busy with my work, I’ll always make time to help Noah.

“Trust me, I know.” Noah scoffs and points her fork at Wilder. “Anythin’ else you wanna know?”

Landen steals her fork and slowly sets it down. “Just gonna take this before you stab him.”

Garrett chuckles. “Noah, don’t worry. It’s all gonna get done. This is the first year, so there’s gonna be growin’ pains as we learn what works.”

She scowls. “The only pain is Wilder.”

“Bet you’re glad you only had one kid, huh?” Tripp says, and everyone’s laughter halts when Noah gasps. “What?”

Poor kid’s clueless.

“Actually, I have two,” I tell him softly. “My daughter passed away ten years ago.”

Gramma Grace replaces my hand and lightly taps it. After losing her husband, I’m sure she understands. I don’t want people’s sympathy, though. It feels wrong.

Tripp smacks himself on the forehead, shaking his head. “Crap, I’m so sorry. I remember that now.”

Noah narrows her eyes at him, and I lightly tap her foot under the table to grab her attention. When she replaces my gaze, I shake my head and smile so she lets up.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “Lyla woulda loved the chaos y’all bring. She was always taggin’ along to my jobs and loved meetin’ new people.”

“My love story ain’t soundin’ so bad now, is it?” Gramma Grace leans over, causing me to laugh.

“Oh, you’re definitely sharin’ after dessert,” Noah says.

“Are ya stayin’ for scrapbookin’?” Gramma Grace asks.

Smiling wide, I look at Noah. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

After dessert, the boys bail and claim they’re goin’ back to work, but judging by their mischievous looks, I’d doubt it. Dena says it’s hit or miss if they stay for scrapbooking, but Noah never skips. I love how she makes an effort to spend time with her parents. They probably appreciate it more than she realizes.

“How many of these have y’all made?” I ask when Dena and Noah dump boxes of supplies and albums.

“Probably thirty or forty,” Noah says. “I hired a photographer, so I plan to make a new one specifically for the event.”

“I can’t wait to see that.” Dena grins. “Here’s one ya might like.” She hands me an album with a familiar cover photo.

“Oh, it’s the same image as the paintin’ on Noah’s wall.”

A sharp inhale coming from Noah makes me realize my slip.

“Yeah. How’d ya know that?” Dena asks as she spreads out colored papers and stickers.

Gramma Grace keeps her head down, but I notice the smirk playing on her lips as if she knows something she shouldn’t.

Noah quickly rescues me before I can respond. “He was puttin’ up those No Trespassin’ signs, and I asked him about installin’ a camera outside my house. After Craig showed up at the Twisted Bull and threatened me, I wanted an extra level of security.”

“I was happy to assist and have already ordered them,” I say truthfully. “I found a couple of good spots that’ll cover the front and back of her house.”

“That boy is gonna replace himself on the side of a milk carton if I have anythin’ to say about it,” Gramma Grace grumbles.

Noah snorts as I look through the photos—pages and pages of ranch views and some of the family riding horses. I pay attention to each one, soaking in how beautiful the ranch and retreat truly are, and their history.

I hold up a photo of Noah standing bareback on a horse. ‘How old were ya here?’

She leans over the table and looks. “Eleven, twelve maybe?”

My brows shoot to my hairline. “You were doin’ tricks that young?”

“Oh, that’s nothin’. She was walkin’ right up to wild horses at eight years old.” Dena shakes her head, but her voice has a sense of pride. “It was like she had no sense of danger.”

That’s the adrenaline junkie in her.

“It wasn’t so much as tricks as just seein’ what I could get away with,” Noah says, her cheeks tinting a beautiful shade of red. “I didn’t have that fear around animals, so I just pushed the limits the older I got.”

I smile, knowing all too well how that goes. “Either way, I’d say you have a gift.”

Garrett walks in and takes a seat. “The gift of givin’ her parents a heart attack.”

“Not like I’m the only one.” Noah scoffs as she works on a page in her book. I watch as she takes little vintage pieces and glues them around a picture.

“Well, it’s different after havin’ four boys and then finally gettin’ my little girl. I wanted so badly to dress her up, but she wasn’t havin’ it,” Dena says, then offers me a cup of decaf coffee.

“Sure, thank you.” I take it and bring it to my lips.

‘You don’t allow a girl to get dirty. She’ll only wanna do it more.’ Noah grins.

And now she has me thinking about other ways she gets dirty.

“This family photo is really nice,” I say when I come across a two-page spread covered in pictures with all seven of them.

“That was our fifteen-year anniversary shoot,” Dena explains. “Twins woulda been around twelve or thirteen.”

Which means Noah was six or seven.

There’s one of them standing in front of a barn with the main house off in the distance.

They look like the perfect Southern family.

“Are you okay?” Gramma Grace asks next to me.

I blink and realize I’ve been staring at the same page for a few minutes.

“Yeah, great. I’m just admirin’ your beautiful family.” I flip the page to more horse and ranch views.

“It’s a shame what happened to your daughter. Mariah and Jase were so lost for a long time. I remember seeing them in church every Sunday.” Gramma Grace covers my hand with hers, and I fight with what words to say. She’s trying to comfort me, but unbeknownst to her, she doesn’t know I’m the reason Lyla’s dead. I don’t deserve her sympathy.

I frown, looking away. “Thanks.”

“Gramma, you need to share your story about Grandpa still,” Noah intervenes.

I can’t look at her, not right now, but I appreciate her taking the attention off me.

Dena groans as Gramma Grace shifts to look for a different album spread out in front of us.

“Here it is…” She opens it and flips a few pages before revealing their wedding photo. “Your grandfather was fifteen years older, but ya wouldn’t know it because he hardly aged a day until he was seventy.”

“Even then, he was pretty good-lookin’,” Dena says, smirking as she digs around for more stickers and embellishment pieces.

“Where’d ya meet?” Noah asks.

I grab my coffee, wishing it were caffeinated after not getting much sleep last night.

“Well…he was the pastor at my high school.”

Nearly spitting out my drink, I bring a hand to my mouth and force the liquid down, but not before Noah notices.

“Gramma!” Noah’s jaw drops.

Dena shakes her head as Garrett stifles a laugh. He must know this story.

Gramma Grace shrugs with an innocent smile on her face. “We didn’t date until after graduation. I started workin’ as a youth leader that summer, and we grew closer.”

“I can’t believe you bagged a pastor.”

“Noah!” Dena scolds.

Noah giggles and holds up her palm, giving each other high fives. “Good job, Gramma.”

“He was a very nice gentleman, but even so, many people didn’t approve. Includin’ my own mother.”

“So what’d ya do?” Noah asks, her attention solely focused on her as if she’s hoping for answers to our current dilemma.

“What any other rebellious teenager who was told no would do…” Gramma Grace glances up with a devious smirk. “We snuck around.”

I hold back an amused grin, keeping my focus on the album so they don’t notice my reaction. But holy shit.

Noah laughs as she rummages through more pieces and paper.

Gramma Grace might be the only one who’d accept Noah and me being together, but having her blessing would be a bonus.

“For how long?” Noah asks.

“Two years,” she notes. “By that time, I no longer cared what anyone else thought because I was madly in love with him.”

“You weren’t a pastor’s wife, though. At least not that I recall…”

“After we got married, we moved to Sugarland Creek, and he decided to go into carpentry. I became a homemaker and stay-at-home mom.”

“What kind of furniture did he make?” I ask.

“Everythin’,” Gramma Grace responds with pride. “Furnished most of our house as well as many other locals. He was the busiest man I knew but always made time for Sunday supper.”

“It’s where the tradition came from,” Noah explains.

“He made most of the furniture in the guest cabins,” Dena says. “Lots in here, too.”

“He loved workin’ with his hands and creatin’ somethin’ from nothin’. Couldn’t get him to slow down. He passed away a few years ago from a heart attack.”

The sadness in Gramma Grace’s voice has me leaning over and capturing her hand. “I’m so sorry to hear that. He sounds like a wonderful man.”

She places her free hand on top of mine and pats it, smiling wide. “He was. Despite our age difference, our love was real and strong. The risk to follow my heart was worth it.” She winks.

The room grows somber as we go back to scrapbooking. Dena refills my mug, and I thank her.

They continue showing me other albums. Dena and Garrett’s wedding album. Each of the children has their own scrapbook with memories, clippings, and photos of their lives. Several are filled with birthday celebrations, holiday festivities, and first days of school memories.

My heart aches at the family memories I took for granted. As soon as Lyla passed, I couldn’t focus on what I still had but rather what I’d lost.

By the time we pack up for the evening, we’d spent another two hours talking and looking through albums. Noah shows me some of her favorites, and Dena talks about how she and Garrett started the retreat.

It’s the most normal evening I’ve shared with others in a long time.

I just hope they still accept me when they learn the truth about their daughter and me.