Chapter 16
R eid never did find what was wrong with the electricity. It came back on sometime Sunday and stayed on.
This weekend was a turning point. It’s foolish to think Reid thought anything about my crush other than thinking it was a cute little story. But I’ve caught him looking at me this weekend, and the heat in his eyes doesn’t look like the irritation he normally projects.
I may have downplayed my crush on Reid when I confessed to him.
Olivia wasn’t exaggerating about the day I saw him at school. We were leaving for the day passing by the gymnasium where the high school had recruitment tables set up in the hallway. In retrospect, having former all-star players help the coaches recruit was brilliant.
Boys and girls lined up waiting to sign up for summer practice camps. There was no way my parents could afford for me or Lilah to join a sport, and Livy spent all her free time with her soulmate, Maisey.
We passed kids clamoring around the soccer tables, the baseball and softball tables, and a few signing up for track and field.
A bottleneck had formed closer to the exit where the football table was.
Boys were shoving past each other to get their names on the list. But what surprised me was the number of girls preening, creating the worst of the traffic.
I remember joking with Lilah and Livy about the future cheerleaders and wondering what the girls could possibly be so ga-ga over. Coach Riggs was balding with a beer belly, and these were the same middle school boys who'd annoyed us since kindergarten.
He must’ve been hunched over helping with the sign-up sheet because when Reid stood to his full height next to Coach Riggs, I felt things my prepubescent body had never felt before.
Everyone in town knew the Andersen family. They lived on a giant cattle ranch and were extremely involved in the town. All three boys were known for being local heartthrobs, but I'd never given them much thought. I’d never personally been around any of them, only seen them passing around town.
I was a newly anointed teenager spending all my time with my sister and best friend, becoming increasingly aware of how my family was perceived and judged.
Until that moment, seeing Reid laughing and smiling at the recruitment table, I hadn’t had any crushes aside from the same celebrities all girls my age swooned over.
It felt like one of those cinematic movie moments where time stopped. Everything other than Reid blurred around me. The cacophony of middle school excitement faded away and was replaced by Trisha Yearwood singing “How Do I Live” directly into my lizard brain.
He was so handsome, and like Livy loves to remind me, I was oblivious to everything other than Reid and walked right into her.
I fell into her, she fell into Lilah, and we all collapsed to a heap on the floor.
Sights and sounds rushed back into focus, and I was mortified.
I started yanking at the girls, who were laughing (Livy) and complaining (Lilah) trying to escape the building immediately.
Let’s just say I noticed him A LOT after that day. They teased me mercilessly for years. No boy ever measured up to Reid.
And I completely ignored the opposite sex after what happened to me my sophomore year. Disgust slithers down my spine the same way it always does at the memory.
Shaking it off, I think back over our time at the Dreamhouse.
He seemingly considered every scenario when he packed for the trip.
He must’ve been worried we wouldn’t get the power back on because he brought three days’ worth of meals.
We quickly settled into a routine where he cooked, and I cleaned up.
It felt alien and domestic. We had conversation over meals and in the evenings, but otherwise, we spent time alone, together.
After our discussion about “hiding our true selves” in the truck, he stopped wearing his hat indoors, and when he catches himself shaking his hair to cover his face, he smooths it back with his hands.
In unspoken solidarity, I haven’t touched my makeup the entire weekend. It feels so good to wake up and feel comfortable starting my day without worrying about how I look. The only people I’ve ever felt this safe around are Lilah and Livy. And now Reid.
The fact that he’s now a member of that group is unsettling but makes my heart flutter.
With minimal repairs to be done at the Dreamhouse, Reid did some preventative maintenance and took a long time inspecting the exterior.
That meant I was free to spend all my time dreaming and inking those dreams onto paper.
But the property’s nearly perfect as it is.
So, my imagination wandered to his ranch.
The way Reid lit up when he spoke about the ranch was mesmerizing.
I could see his dreams for the ranch’s future as he wove them into existence with his words.
I know he can make it happen. I’ve been careful to keep my sketches and notes from him.
It’s such a personal dream, I’m not sure he’d welcome or appreciate any ideas from anyone else.
Especially not from me. He barely tolerates me.
What do I know about luxury mountain destinations anyway?
I feel like I’ve been doing a great job reimagining the properties on our winter tour so far—but the structures are already there.
And while my Pinterest game is on point, I have no real experience or education in interior design, let alone architecture or business planning.
It’s just fun to sketch out what my dream mountain retreat would look like. To put on paper what it’d feel like to stay in a space of my own in the real Rocky Mountains. I can feel the tranquility, breathe in the serenity. I imagine it to be just like Reid’s ranch, and he’s there with me.
But it’s all a fantasy. This road trip has been the best experience of my life. I’ve already seen more of the state in these past weeks than in my entire life combined.
I wake before Reid, a rare occurrence. I pad quietly into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Reid is extremely tidy, so it’s out of the norm to see his notebook sitting open on the countertop. He must have come out of his room after we went to bed last night.
Scrawled across the top of the open page in his heavy handed, masculine handwriting, is Lucky Spurs Ranch , underlined three times.
Lucky Spurs Ranch.
I love it.
It’s perfect.
I'm suddenly wide awake, and my mind floods with ideas. Not thinking, I snatch up his pen and start to draw. The shape of a wooden pole entryway with a laser-cut metal sign hanging from the crossbeam. The name of the ranch is front and center.
I can feel it—how it would feel to pass under that sign and stepping foot onto the ranch.
I'm lost in my own world, shading the design, when I feel Reid’s warmth at my back. I slam the notebook shut, whipping around to face him, and in the process, wing it across the counter onto the floor.
I scream, “Nothing!”
My heart is beating out of my chest. He's going to be so angry. He's so private…I wasn’t supposed to see that and I sure as hell wasn’t invited to scribble all over his idea.
The counter bites into the small of my back, my hands bracing the countertop to hold me up and away from his body.
I slowly raise my head, and my eyes trail up his—holy shit—naked hard chest, his thick neck, his deliciously coarse beard, to his eyes.
This morning, they’re a sun kissed meadow of light green, gold, and shimmering bronze.
He’s not wearing a shirt. Does he know he’s not wearing a shirt?
Because he’s not wearing one, and he should be wearing one, but oh my god he should never be allowed to wear a shirt ever again.
All he has on is those same black athletic shorts from last night.
I swear I could see the outline of his dick, but I can’t confirm my suspicions, can I? I think I'm going to faint.
“Good morning.” His scratchy morning baritone sends shivers down my spine.
I shrink away farther. “Good morning!” I chirp, far more chipper than is normal.
He narrows his eyes and suspiciously takes in my demeanor and posture. Without another word, he turns and walks away from me.
I fill my lungs with desperately needed oxygen and relax down off the cliff-ledge I’ve been clinging to.
I realize too late, in my panicked daze, that he's heading straight for the freaking notebook. I’m so frozen with anxiety I can’t even think, let alone form an intelligible sentence to explain why I so grossly violated his privacy.
My brain however is working enough to process the visual stimuli of Reid Andersen fresh out of bed, hair rumpled, blanket creases pressed into his side, back muscles rippling.
Holy Dolly Parton, he bends over and my eyes glue to his toned ass. I want to bite it. I swallow the whimper that tries to escape from my throat. I shake myself out of this stupor as he stands to his full height and opens the notebook to the offending page.
He looks at it for what seems like an eternity. He remains focused on it as he turns to face his body towards me and walks in my direction with leisurely steps. Heavy footsteps stop in front of me, nearly as close as when he caught me.
I must’ve done something right in a past life, because gracing my eyes is the most glorious chest I’ve ever seen.
His pecs are rock solid, covered in the perfect amount of chest hair trailing down his taut abdomen, to where I'm positive is the happiest place on earth. He isn’t cut like a gym bro—he's built solid from years of hard labor.
The scarring on his face I’ve traced with my eyes a thousand times continues down his neck and across his shoulder and pec. It makes him more beautiful.
He’s a survivor.