Big Switch (The Switch Book 2) by Tarin Lex & Lana Dash

Author:Tarin Lex & Lana Dash [Lex, Tarin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

5

HAZEL

The rest of the day sails past in a blur. It doesn’t take long to finish a drive through the less than one-square-mile city of Fatesville, passing a town square and a few shopettes, a handful of mom-and-pop restaurants, the fire station, and a picturesque little white church. It’s nothing like Seattle but I definitely think if Mom were here, we’d have a blast shopping the little boutiques together.

Chasen then gives me a mesmerizing tour of the Palouse, where the countryside is a million glowing ripples of jewel-toned lavender, greens, and orange flora stretching vastly onward and wide as far as the eye can see. It is all so brilliant yet soft, wistful, like a watercolor painting. Since the moment I arrived I felt this land greet me with something that felt so much like a hug.

Hank, being satisfied with Chasen’s work on the fence earlier, allows us to visit with the horses, Queenie and Rex, when we come back.

Brushing their hair imbues me with a sense of calm. Really the whole day has.

What is it about this place that makes my heart sing? A city girl like me. And Chasen…he is like an anchor. He is so grounded here. I feel I have washed up on the shore of this town and now I am home, moored.

That should feel a little unsettling. It doesn’t though.

“Should I expect y’all in for dinner?” Marjorie asks, finding us in the paddock behind their house. She comes bearing iced teas. I take an eager sip, and my taste buds vibrate with the bubbly ginger ale and mint she added.

“You getting hungry, Hazel?” Chasen says.

“I would’ve guessed I could always make room for more of Marjorie’s cooking, but”—I press a hand to my full stomach—“feels like we’ve eaten nonstop today.”

“There’s lots to sample out in the Palouse,” Marjorie says understandingly.

“Exactly. By the way, this iced tea punch is beyond good. I tried to copy your recipe in Seattle, even made a special trip to Queen Anne for the best ingredients.” Not that I needed an excuse to go to the markets uptown. “It was terrible,” I admit, shamelessly. And I’m being honest. It was the worst. How I managed to fuck up three simple ingredients…it’s a wonder.

“You follow my Insta?” Marjorie glows.

“Everyone does.”

She ferries her affectionate smile up at Chasen. “You were right.” The cowboy nods once, humbly. “It was his idea for me to post my recipes and stories,” she says to me, “little anecdotes and pictures online. He said I should be a…what did you call it, honey?”

“Content machine.”

“Haha, yes, that’s certainly what it feels like I am!”

I smile introspectively. Marjorie is always moving, always appearing happy about it, and I’m happy she’s happy. I wonder how much of my own ambition comes not only from how the Davenports raised me, but also how the Hardins…made me.

Chasen and I drain the last of our teas and Marjorie takes the glasses inside.

It’s late in the evening before the sun begins to set. I worry that I’m starting to burden Chasen.

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