3. Kennedy
CHAPTER 3
KENNEDY
“ J ust this today?” the aged man behind the postal counter asks as he sticks a stamp onto the postcard I just handed him. “I bet your grandfather misses you something fierce.”
The words make my stomach churn. “I miss him, too. And yeah, just that, Shep, thanks.”
“Anytime, Sammy. That’ll be fifty-six cents.” As I reach into my pocket for the change, he sets the postcard aside. “How are you liking it here in Pine Creek?”
“I love it,” I reply, grateful that it’s one of the few truthful things I get to answer these days. “It’s a great town, and the Hunt family has been very welcoming.”
“Yeah, they treat their ranch hands like family. Most never leave.”
“Well, I’m glad at least one did,” I reply with a smile, handing him the coins.
His cheeks turn pink, and he smiles back. “This is true.” He offers me a receipt. “Have a good day, okay?”
“You, too. See you next week,” I reply with a wave then head back out onto the street. My gaze drifts to the place where I had a face-to-face encounter with Bradyn Hunt. Part of me wants to linger just to see if I can catch another sight of him.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve been hearing stories about the Hunt brothers. They might as well be local celebrities around here for all the work they do for the community and the military service they all carry with them. Local heroes with small-town charm.
Now that I’ve met Bradyn, though, I can honestly say that the stories didn’t do him justice. Don’t get me wrong, the other four are just as great to look at, but there’s something about Bradyn. Something that had me dang near swooning like some woman in an old black-and-white movie, even though he hadn’t said anything even mildly close to swoon-worthy.
I laugh to myself. Swoon-worthy. What an understatement.
His hazel eyes were so bright they might have pierced my soul if I’d stared too long. His dark, shaggy hair was a lot longer than his brothers’ and somehow perfectly tailored to his dangerous look. And the man is tall. I thought his brothers were, but Bradyn stands even taller than them. Not by much, but he’s definitely far taller than any one man should be.
And those broad shoulders. He’d been wearing a thick jacket, but when I’d reached out to steady myself, I’d gripped those arms. Strong, muscled arms.
I shake my head. Get it together, Kennedy.
Seriously, though, could he be any more handsome?
Since I have the afternoon off, I head down the street and toward the market to grab a few things before going back to my cabin on the ranch. Even though it’s January and freezing, the sky is blue, the sun shining brightly. It’s a truly beautiful day, but there’s a cloud hovering over me.
Likely due to the nightmare that had me up before dawn, even though it was the first morning in two weeks that I got to sleep in. My smile fades slightly as I step into the market, my thoughts on everything I need to grab.
“Afternoon, Sammy!” Jim, a teenager who restocks on the weekends, greets as I make my way inside.
“Afternoon, how’s it going today?”
“Not too shabby,” he replies with a flirtatious grin. I’m far too old for him, something I’m sure he realizes, but that doesn’t stop him from chatting me up whenever we cross paths. “You look rested today. Day off?”
“That’s right.” I head toward the back of the store, a small basket in hand. After piling some bananas, apples, and a jar of crunchy peanut butter inside, I head back toward the front.
“Breakfast of champions?” the cashier asks as she rings me up.
“You know it,” I reply.
“I thought they fed you better at that ranch.”
I laugh. “They do. But I’m not big on hearty breakfasts,” I reply. It’s a lie, of course. Who doesn’t love hearty breakfasts of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hash browns? The truth is that I can’t stomach taking any more from the Hunts than I already have.
Not when I’m lying to them with every breath I take.
“Ahh, well, I hear those breakfasts are amazing. Maybe give one a try. You could do with a little meat on your bones, Sammy,” she replies with a wink.
I smile. “Maybe.”
That’s the one thing about small towns that I had always thought was a rumor but turned out to be true. Everyone knows everyone. Secrets can’t hide here, which makes it incredibly interesting that I’ve been able to. This is the longest I’ve stayed anywhere. Even though it’s only been a couple of months since I first crossed into the small town of Pine Creek, Texas, and a month since I started work at the ranch, everyone in town remembers me. And they all take time to say hi whenever our paths cross.
This place is the closest I’ve come to home in a long time.
But I know better than to get too comfortable. Because that could all change tomorrow.
“Thanks, Brenda,” I say to her as I pocket my receipt and change, taking my paper bag with me.
“You’re welcome, honey. Have a great day.”
Stepping outside, I slip sunglasses over my eyes and head toward the beat-up old truck I bought in a used, cash-only lot six months ago. It’s parked right between the market and the post office, so the walk is quick. Even as I know it’s likely an impossibility, my gaze scans my surroundings for anything that doesn’t quite fit.
Like a person in a place they shouldn’t be.
After setting my bag on the passenger seat, I climb behind the wheel and take off. Music drowns out the silence around me during the fifteen-minute drive back to Hunt Ranch. It’s hardly the only ranch in this area, but it is by far the largest and has been in the Hunt family for generations—1906 from what my research told me.
The Hunts are known around this town as kind people who love God and cherish their neighbors. Something they prove whenever someone is in need of anything. Take me, for example. They had no openings since they weren’t planning on hiring a replacement for the last ranch hand who left, but the second I showed up at their door, asking for a job, they found a place for me.
Ten minutes after Mrs. Hunt pulled the door open, I was walking into the house and being welcomed with a tall glass of sweet tea and fresh homemade banana bread.
They’re a perfect example of money not changing a person.
Despite the fact that they have a ranch that has to be worth millions of dollars, they’re a small family at their core, doing what they can to help others on their way through this life.
It makes me yearn for something I’ll never have again. Family. My throat constricts as a wave of emotion hits me. No. Shove it down, Kennedy.
Instead of letting the past consume me, I focus on what’s ahead.
Unlike a lot of ranches in the area, the Hunt ranch hands have a row of cabins rather than a bunkhouse. We each get our own space—a bed, bathroom, small kitchen—that we can call our own as long as we’re working here.
While we do share a parking lot, the cabins are all our own, separated by a magnolia tree planted strategically between each of them for privacy.
It’ll be gorgeous, especially when the trees are in full bloom. All that dark wood contrasting with the waxy green leaves and white blossoms. I’ve only seen it in pictures so far, but I’m hoping that I’ll get to remain here long enough to witness it for myself.
Unlikely, of course, but maybe.
I’m just putting my truck in Park when I notice a shadow creeping around the left side of my cabin. The blood in my veins begins to pound, and adrenaline surges through my system.
Instinctively, I reach for the small firearm I always keep on me, my hand closing over the grip as I abandon my groceries and slip out of the truck. All while I’m kicking myself for not bringing my go bag with me when I left this morning. I always have it on me. But today, I’d left it behind. Why didn’t I bring it with me?
If I’m lucky, they haven’t gotten into the house yet and I can slip in through the side and grab my bag. If I’m not lucky—well—I won’t be walking out of here at all.
A man is peering through my back window, but when I get close enough to get a better look at him, I breathe a sigh of relief and hold the firearm behind my back. It’s Texas, so legally, I can carry it, but I don’t want anyone here noticing it. The questions that may come from it are ones I don’t want to answer. “What are you doing here?”
Arthur Kidress turns, his cheeks flushing with color. “Sammy, there you are. I was looking for you.”
“You were peering into the back of my house,” I say. “Did you not knock?”
“Of course I knocked.” Arthur arrived about a month before me and has made it no secret that he’s attracted to me.
Unfortunately for him, even if I were drawn to him, I have a strict ‘no dating’ policy.
He comes down the back steps with a friendly smile on his face. “You didn’t answer.”
Since he was already on the ranch when I arrived here, it’s unlikely he’s a threat to me, but I can never be too careful. Not when I have enemies lurking everywhere I turn. “Which makes peering into my back door less creepy?” I question.
“Sorry.” He runs a hand over the back of his head and then shoves both hands into his pockets. “I wanted to see if you were doing okay.”
“It’s my day off.”
His embarrassment is written all over his face. “I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I would say stalking my house isn’t a great start to whatever it is.”
He laughs. “I wanted to ask if you’d be up for dinner.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“A date?” I question.
“Yeah,” he replies. “With me. I think it could be fun.” He shrugs, and I almost feel bad for the impending no that’s hanging in the air.
“I appreciate the invite, but?—”
“But?”
“I’m not big into dating.” Another not-lie for me today; it must be a record. Dating means getting attached. I can’t afford attachments because they inevitably lead to pain and death. Two things I’m trying to avoid for myself and everyone around me.
“Oh.” His face falls.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.”
“Nah, it’s good. I get it. Might make things awkward if the date sucks. You know, given that we have to work together.”
I force a smile. “Very true.”
“Well.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow,” I reply, moving to the side and keeping my back away from him so he doesn’t see the gun I’m still holding.
Arthur walks around the side of my cabin, headed back toward the parking lot, so I shove the firearm back into the waistband of my pants before withdrawing my keys and heading back out to my truck. Heart still pumping, I grab my stuff from the truck and slip into the house.
As I do every time I come home, I clear the rooms one at a time, ensuring no one snuck in while I was away. After securing the small cabin and making sure all the windows and doors are locked, I finally take a seat on the couch and let out a sigh.
I miss having someone to talk to. Someone to share my day with. Now, I’m living so much of a lie I can’t risk idle conversation just in case something slips out. Solitude cuts deep, but there’s no way around it. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever.
For some reason, Bradyn Hunt’s handsome face swims into my mind. I can see him standing there, bathed in sunlight as he’d stared down at me. My stomach twists into nervous knots. He’s exactly the kind of man I could have fallen for once upon a time.
Once upon a time when my life wasn’t one nightmare after another.
Those pesky feelings rear their ugly head again, so I push to my feet and head into the bathroom to wash the day off of me. Pajamas and a book. That’s what the evening has in store for me.
Anything else can just wait outside until morning.