Chapter 5
Asher
Sierra looked tired today, and I didn’t like it.
She hadn’t complained, and she was trying to be her usual, chatty self, but I could see the lack of sleep in her eyes.
Had she always looked like that or were things different today for some reason?
Nope. This wasn’t her normal. I noticed plenty about her these days, and she’d never looked this tired.
She’d been off over the weekend, and it had been over two weeks since I’d last seen her for anything other than her workday.
After the wedding was over, we hadn’t needed to meet up for anything other than work.
It’s none of your business, Remington.
Nah. Fuck that. I was making it my business. I was tired of trying to pretend that I didn’t need to know anything about Sierra Ellis.
She was a woman I could tolerate being in my home five days a week. I didn’t want to lose her as an employee because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find someone else who wouldn’t irritate the hell out of me.
As soon as she put my breakfast in front of me, I said gruffly, “Make yourself a plate and sit. You need to eat.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “There’s not enough food.”
Annoyed, I got to my feet, found a plate, and filled it with the eggs, potatoes, and sausages that were still on the stove.
I grabbed utensils, a napkin, and plopped everything onto the table. “Eat,” I said firmly.
She looked flustered as she stammered, “B-but what if you want more?”
“Have I ever asked you for more food?” I asked as I sat and looked at the heaping plate of food in front of me.
She always served me a very hearty breakfast, probably way more than I needed.
“No,” she said cautiously. “But there could always be a first time.”
“There won’t be,” I replied as I motioned to her plate. “Sit and eat or you’re fired.”
She smiled. “You’re not going to fire me if I don’t eat.”
I cocked a brow in challenge. “I might. Sit. Grab some coffee if you want it.”
She sighed, and I knew I’d won this battle.
It was about damn time.
Even though I’d told her to buy enough food for both of us, she’d been doing things the same way she always did, and those habits needed to change.
It wouldn’t kill her to eat breakfast with me, and then I’d know for sure that she’d eaten something in the morning.
“I think I’ll take that coffee,” she said as she started a cup brewing for herself.
“You’re tired today,” I commented.
She sent me a surprised glance. “How did you know that?”
I shrugged. “It shows. Busy weekend?”
She nodded. “I was working on a project. I stayed up a little too late last night. I’m sorry. It won’t interfere with my job. I’ll still get everything done.”
My gut ached when I heard a small hitch of apprehension in her voice.
Hell, did she really think I was going to give her shit if she had one day when she was tired?
I had plenty of them because I didn’t always sleep well.
Tired or not, Sierra was way too anal about getting every single task done.
“Do you really think I’m worried that you’ll slack off?” I asked drily. “Nobody is perfect every single day. We’re human. I have days when I’m off and tired. I get my work done. I’m just a bigger asshole than usual.”
She smiled as she brought her coffee to the table and sat down across from me.
The table in the little kitchen nook was small. It only had two seats, but it was big enough for both of us.
“I’ll try not to be grumpy,” she said teasingly, watching me as I dug into my food. In a more sober voice, she asked, “Insomnia or nightmares?”
I watched as Sierra started to eat, eyeing her cautiously. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed. “Is it insomnia or nightmares that keep you awake at night? Maybe it’s not my place to ask, but I recognize some of the symptoms of PTSD. I was just curious.”
I tensed up.
Fuck! Was it really so damn obvious that I was broken?
“It’s no big deal,” she rushed to add. “I’ve been there myself, Asher. That’s why I recognize the signs.”
My muscles relaxed, and I definitely hadn’t missed the fact that she’d used my given name for the first time. Damned if I didn’t like hearing my name on her lips. Maybe that was why I reluctantly admitted, “I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” she said firmly. “It’s not your fault. You just have to learn to reprocess your trauma. Therapy helped me. Have you ever thought about it?”
I took a deep breath.
I didn’t talk about myself or my issues, but since Sierra had confessed hers first, I felt a lot more comfortable telling her.
“I started a few months ago, not long after I realized that Cole had found his woman. I knew his life was going to be different. He was going to get married, and I wanted to be there for that. He and Lauren will have a family someday, and I’d like to be a decent uncle.
I’d also like to get to know my cousins here in Crystal Fork, but you know my tolerance for socializing isn’t good. ”
She met my gaze, and the empathy in her gorgeous eyes made my gut hurt. “It will get better,” she said softly. “You’ve actually come a long way since we first met. I’ve noticed. Maybe you aren’t good with people around, but you’re getting better at it. Have they tried EMDR?”
She was right. I felt like the treatment was finally starting to kick in, and I was sleeping a lot better in the last month or so than I had in a long time.
I nodded. “That and other things. I know I need to desensitize myself, but I still don’t like social situations and crowds.”
“Didn’t I hear that you lived in the city before you moved back to Crystal Fork?” she asked.
“Yeah. Austin. It wasn’t always this bad.
The last two years have been the worst. Traveling for business was a challenge, but I got through it because I have a private jet.
In Austin, I pretty much became a hermit during my last year there.
I avoided going out when I could. I’d go to my office, but I hated it.
Traveling for work was hell, so I did it as infrequently as possible.
I’ve avoided travel altogether since I moved here. ”
She nodded sympathetically. “I think the hardest part is admitting that you have a problem and stepping up for treatment. You’ve done the most difficult thing. It will just take time, Asher. I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
I didn’t.
I didn’t want to talk about any of it outside of therapy, but it didn’t seem so bad to discuss it with someone who had lived it.
“I don’t really want to discuss it,” I said in a graveled voice. “Do you want to tell me what happened to you?”
“Nope,” she said in a clipped voice.
Damn!
Maybe I didn’t want to tell my own story, but I sure as hell wanted to hear hers.
I wanted to know exactly what had happened to Sierra.
I hated the thought of her suffering with the same symptoms I had.
I’d never been a social guy with a lot of good friends, but the isolation of PTSD was torture.
Had there been someone in Sierra’s life to help her through it?
Looking at her now, I really didn’t see the signs that she’d been through PTSD herself.
“It took months for me to start feeling better,” she said, like she knew I was thinking about her own situation. “I went through close to three years of recovery and therapy. I can’t honestly say that I don’t have an occasional flashback, but my trauma doesn’t control my life anymore.”
Hell, I wished I could say the same, and my trauma was probably a hell of a lot older than hers. The therapist had called it delayed-onset PTSD, a condition that I’d probably never quite understand.
“Did you sell your big tech company and move to Montana because of your symptoms?” she asked as she put her utensils on her empty plate and picked up her coffee.
I shook my head. “Not really. Cole and I were ready to move on, but I won’t pretend that it wasn’t a relief to get out of Austin and away from the stress of running that company every day.
Cole and I practically lived in our offices.
I’m still busy with my other business interests, but it’s manageable. ”
She sent me a skeptical look. “I’m not so sure about that. You seem to spend a lot of time in your office and working with your horses.”
I shrugged. “Not nearly as much as I used to, and I work remote now. And the thoroughbreds are more of a hobby than work for me. Breeding was something I always wanted to do, but we grew up dirt poor. I didn’t think it would ever happen when I was younger.”
Spending time with the horses was also a little like therapy to me.
Doing the routine things my horses needed calmed me in a way nothing else really did.
She sighed. “I’m sure they’re beautiful.”
“Do you ride?” I asked curiously.
She smiled at me. “Not well. I grew up in Texas but I never had my own horse. I had friends who did, so I learned to ride. I just didn’t do it that often. I love horses, but they’re expensive.”
“What brought you here to Montana?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’d rather not talk about that subject in detail. How about I just say that I needed to start over in a beautiful, peaceful place. I moved here right before I took this job with you.”
I nodded. I understood, and I respected the fact that she didn’t want to talk about that subject because it obviously had to do with her own recovery from PTSD.
I instinctively knew that Sierra wasn’t going to talk about her trauma unless she completely trusted the person who was listening.
Trust was something that didn’t come easy after the kind of trauma that brought on PTSD.
She’d talk when she trusted, and damned if that didn’t make me want to gain her trust.
“Do you want to come to the barn later to see my horses?” I asked huskily, not completely sure why I was asking.
The only explanation I could think of was that Sierra probably worked too much, which couldn’t be good for her if she’d come to Montana to find peace.
She was here working five days a week. I had no idea what kind of projects she had on the weekends, but I was assuming they weren’t leisure projects if they kept her awake late at night.
Had she actually done anything enjoyable or relaxing since she’d come to Montana?
I might work a lot but I still found time to ride, which was relaxing for me.
Her face lit up. “I’d love that, if you don’t mind me goofing off for a few minutes.”
“If you want to ride, I have a pretty little paint mare that could use some exercise.”
I usually preferred to ride my own quarter horse gelding because he was bigger and I’d had him for years.
My barn manager rode the paint, but she didn’t get exercised every day like my gelding.
She shook her head. “I can’t ride when I’m supposed to be working.”
She could and she should. “Your boss won’t mind,” I said drily.
“I mind,” she said firmly.
“Then we’ll ride when you’re done with whatever you need to do,” I suggested.
I generally didn’t ride until she’d left for the day anyway.
She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I want to, but I really shouldn’t. I have another project I need to work on at home, and my cat won’t be happy if I’m not home on time to feed her.”
Just her cat?
Muscles that I didn’t know were tight suddenly relaxed.
Apparently, there was no one waiting at home for her but her feline companion.
“I didn’t know that cats could tell time,” I said, amused.
She smiled. “You’d be surprised. She has an internal clock that seems to work extremely well when it comes to food.”
“I doubt she’ll starve before you get home,” I informed her.
“She won’t,” Sierra confirmed. “But she’ll act like she’s dying when I get there.”
“A short ride,” I urged, not sure why it seemed so damn important that Sierra ride with me. “There’s a place down by the river that I think you’ll like.”
I knew by the look on her face that she was starting to give in.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “A short ride. I’d love to actually see a little of your ranch, and I haven’t been on a horse in a long time.”
“Done,” I confirmed as she stood and started to collect the dishes.
She waved her hand when I started to pick up my own plate to carry to the dishwasher. “Go work,” she said firmly. “I have things to get done in the kitchen.”
I nearly smiled at her stern tone.
Sierra was sunny and happy most of the time, but she had her occasional bossy moments.
I liked that about her.
She was blunt when she needed to be, and she didn’t feed anyone full of unnecessary bullshit.
I left her to it and headed toward my office, not exactly sure why I felt so satisfied about talking her into spending some time with me.