2. Paisley
CHAPTER 2
PAISLEY
“Good morning, Sunshine.” I yanked on the curtain that separated my side of the bunkhouse from Aiden’s. We’d been sharing the same quarters for three days now and he’d barely said more than a few words. Just like yesterday and the day before, he’d already left the bunkhouse.
At least he made coffee. The carafe sat on the warming plate, still half full. I grabbed a travel mug off the drying rack and filled it to the top, leaving just enough room for some creamer. Shane had warned me his friend might take a while to warm up, but the man was colder than an arctic glacier. If something didn’t change soon, he might never thaw out.
I slid my arms into my heavy jacket, grabbed my mug, and headed toward the barn. Maybe I’d borrow the kitchen in the big house tonight and bake some of my grandma’s blueberry muffins. They wouldn’t be as good as the ones she used to make since there wasn’t anywhere to pick fresh blueberries in Mustang Mountain in February. Aiden might not like pie, but I’d never seen anyone turn down a blueberry muffin.
Armed with a plan, I tugged the heavy door of the barn open and slipped inside. The comforting smell of horses and hay surrounded me. I inhaled deeply, so grateful Caitlin had invited me to be part of the ranch. When she told me she was leaving New York to head back to Montana and marry a mountain man, I couldn’t imagine staying in the city without her.
Even though I’d been born and raised in upstate New York, my heart had always yearned for the mountains, for wide open spaces, and for the chance to make something my own. With riding experience from the lessons I took as a kid, and an established private practice as a therapist, I’d never thought of combining the two until Caitlin asked if I wanted to join her in Montana.
I made my way down the line, greeting the horses Shane had rescued by name. “Good morning, Shadow. How’s that hoof of yours, Cinnamon? Are you ready for your breakfast, Flurry?”
They were in bad shape when they arrived last month, but were slowly coming out of their shells. I scooped out grain, replaced the hay, and gave them all fresh water before turning my attention to the cat that had been brushing against my legs.
“Hi there, Samson.” I picked him up and let him nuzzle his head under my chin. It was hard to believe I’d only been in Montana for a few weeks. Already, I felt more at home than I ever had in New York.
The sound of wood splintering apart came from just outside the back of the barn. Curious, I set Samson down and made my way toward the door. With the horses fed, I didn’t have anything to do until my online class started in an hour. I’d signed up for a virtual equine therapy course to help me blend my love of horses and patient skills. Shane had given me total control over putting together a program at the ranch, and I wanted it to be the best.
The door groaned as I slid it open. Samson followed, winding around my ankles as I stepped outside. I tripped over him, lost my footing, and scrambled to grab onto the door. Bracing myself for the impact of the frozen ground, I threw out my hands.
“Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?” Aiden broke my fall, catching me with one arm right before I slammed onto the ground.
I staggered to my feet and stepped back, my cheeks burning. “The cat got in my way. What are you doing out here?”
He gestured to the pile of wood. “What’s it look like?”
His baseball cap sat low on his head, making it impossible to get a good look at his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at our run-in or just as flustered as I was from having his hands on me again. Either way, I refused to leave until I got at least a few more words out of him.
“Thanks for making coffee again this morning. It’s nice having it already done when I wake up.” I offered a smile, hoping he might return this one.
Instead, he nodded and shifted his attention back to the huge log in front of him. “We’re low on firewood.”
“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.” I tucked my hands into my pockets and watched him hoist the axe over his head. He’d taken off his coat, and his thermal henley clung to his chest. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong, sinewy forearms. While I stood there, he brought the axe down and split the log in half. I resisted the urge to fan myself. The temperature might be in the single digits, but watching Aiden had sparked an unexpected, though not unwelcome, deep heat inside me.
He ignored my presence and set up another log. The axe swung down, and the sound of the log splitting in two was like the crack of a rifle. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged under his shirt. I didn’t know manual labor could make a man look so hot. Feeling awkward as hell for gawking at him, I tried one more time to engage him in conversation.
“You look like you’ve done this before.” Commenting on the way he excelled at a task seemed like a safe topic.
He glanced over at me, then grunted as he swung the axe down again.
Undeterred, I pressed on. “Let me guess. You’re a professional lumberjack, aren’t you? I’ve seen those shows on TV. Do you know how to dance on a rolling log or carve an animal out of a tree trunk?”
His eyes closed for a long beat before he set another log in place and attacked it with the axe.
“Not a lumberjack then. Did you used to live off the grid? Maybe you were a bush pilot in Alaska who had to survive in the wilderness for months at a time. You got used to not being around people, and that’s why you seem to have forgotten how to speak. Is that it?”
A muscle ticked along his jaw. I started to think that baiting a big, burly man with an axe in his hand might not be one of my best decisions. He shook his head and lowered the axe, resting the top part on the ground.
“I’m not looking to make friends.” His voice came out low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in years.
The fact that he’d said anything at all encouraged me to keep pushing. “What are you looking for out here, then?”
He took in a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the mountains. “Peace.”
The way he said that one word, all soft and quiet, almost reverently , made me wonder what he was running from. Shane hadn’t told me much about him except that they’d been friends for a few years and that he trusted Aiden with his life. He’d also said I didn’t have anything to be afraid of with him around.
I didn’t make a habit out of sharing small quarters with strangers, but I felt safe with him. The fact that he avoided me as much as possible probably helped. I didn’t have a ton of experience with men, but I’d never felt like I actively repelled them, either. At least, not until I met him.
Aiden reached for the travel mug on the ground nearby, probably assuming I’d leave it at that and give him some space. I couldn’t let it go, though. We didn’t have to be friends, but would it kill him to engage in a few minutes of dialogue a day? I was used to an office full of co-workers, chatting up my friends at the yoga studio, and meeting up for brunch with girlfriends once a week. Though I absolutely loved being on the ranch, it was taking time to get used to being so isolated.
“We don’t have to be friends,”—I held my mug out to clank against his—“but would it kill you to talk to me every once in a while?”
Like an unreturned fist bump, he left me hanging. Instead of tapping his mug against mine, he lifted it to his lips and took a long sip.
“So it’s like that, is it?” Irritation bubbled in my gut. “You don’t want to make the best of it? Fine. Be a grump. Brood. Stew. Do whatever it is you need to do to get through the day. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
He slowly shook his head back and forth as his eyes rolled toward the sky.
“Are you seriously rolling your eyes at me right now?”
The corner of his lip flicked up for a split second before his mouth settled back into his regular frown. “You asked what I’m looking for out here.”
“Yeah. You said peace. There’s plenty of that. Just look around...”
He put his palm up and my words trailed off. Was he trying to silence me?
“Peace and something else.”
Wondering if I might get some sort of insight into his inner psyche, I leaned forward a smidge. “Peace and what?”
He set down his mug and hoisted the axe back up onto his shoulder. “Quiet.”
Peace and quiet? Of all the nerve. I opened my mouth to let him have it. He glanced over at me as the axe crashed down on the log. I expected to see a cocky glint in his eyes and a smug smirk plastered across his scruffy face. Instead, he looked tired. Like the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders, and he was tired of holding it up.
So instead of launching into a tirade about how dare he talk to me or any other person like that, I turned around and headed back into the barn. If I hadn’t seen that glimpse of bone-tired weariness, I might have decided to leave him to wallow in his grumpiness all alone. He might think he’d derailed my effort to drag him out of his shell, but I could be persistent.
Samson let out a loud meow as he jumped up onto the railing that ran along the horse stalls. I reached up to scratch him behind his ears. “It’s on, now. I’m going to get that growly grump to smile if it’s the last thing I do.”
The cat purred in encouragement.
“Come on, Samson. We’ve got to make a grocery list. We’ll start with everything we need to make a big batch of blueberry muffins.”