Chapter 4
Ash
S hit, shit shit!
I should’ve known better and booked an earlier flight, but this was almost a hundred dollars cheaper than any other. Now I’m paying the price for being cheap as I stare at the unmoving baggage claim, waiting for my luggage to fly down so I can hop in an Uber and be on my way.
Glancing at the watch on my wrist, I curse under my breath. I’m going to be late for this damn interview if this thing doesn’t get started soon. This day has felt doomed since the very beginning; I shouldn’t even be surprised. The Uber I ordered to take me to the airport in Portland canceled, and the app didn’t notify me. So, I had to mad dash order another one, and I barely made it to the airport with enough time to get through TSA.
Honestly, I don’t understand how some people purposely get to the airport with less than an hour before departure. Talk about a fucking panic attack. I’m not cut out for this shit.
Then, as if that wasn’t stressful enough, my initial flight was delayed by forty-five minutes, making me miss my connecting flight from Dallas to Wolf Creek. Thank god they were able to get me another one shortly after, but now, as I’m sitting here waiting for my suitcase, I’m regretting all my life decisions.
I should’ve flown in last night.
That would’ve been smarter, but I want to spend as little time staying with my sister as possible. Knowing I’m going to be crashing on her couch this week is enough to give me hives.
My nerves are shot, and I fear it’s going to be like that for the rest of the day, no matter what I do. Because of my early flight and the Uber debacle, I wasn’t able to get in a morning yoga session, which has done nothing but properly throw off my entire vibe. I don’t even want to think about what that means for me and this interview with my twin sister’s boyfriend and one of the most prominent ranchers around.
What’s there to be anxious about?
Just have to impress the Finn Moore, only the sexiest cowboy in all of Wolf Creek. And you know, my entire livelihood depends on it.
No big deal.
I’ve never technically met Finn, but back when I lived here as a teenager, I knew of him. Everybody in town knows of the Moore men. They’re practically cattle royalty around these parts. He’s not much older than me and Violet—maybe four years—but he had already graduated by the time we got here.
After another minute of the carousel at a standstill, I decide to head to the coffee cart directly behind me to grab a hot tea—English breakfast, of course—and thankfully, things are finally moving when I return. Once I get my suitcase, I rush over to the rental car section of the airport and get in line.
It seems the universe may be suddenly working on my side because I don’t have to wait but a few minutes before it’s my turn. Fifteen minutes later, I’ve got the keys to the Toyota Corolla I’ll be driving for the next few days, and once I find it in the parking lot, I toss my suitcase into the trunk, and slide into the driver’s seat before plugging the address to the ranch into my GPS.
Checking the clock for the millionth time today, my stomach twists as I compare the drive estimate to when I need to be there, and I literally have two minutes to spare.
Guess I better step on it.
Glancing around as I drive, I can’t help but notice how vastly different Wolf Creek is to Portland. Prairies and farmland for as far as the eye can see compared to the high-rise buildings and mountainous landscape I’ve become accustomed to the last few years. Brick homes and big red barns instead of apartments and convenience stores on every block. Cows and horses make up the view instead of pedestrians crossing the street, in a hurry to get to where they’re going, and I’m sure if I were to roll down my window, the scent of freshly cut hay and manure would fill my senses instead of freshly ground coffee and gasoline.
Thankfully, there’s no traffic, and I’m able to pull into the Moore Family Ranch with five minutes to spare. In the text message I got from Finn last night, he told me to meet him in front of the barn, so that’s where I go. Putting the car in park, I reach for my tea, bringing it up to my mouth to take one last drink before I get out.
It’s a mistake. One I realize much too late.
As soon as I tilt the cup, the lid unfastens and hot tea spills all over the front of my shirt and my lap. Accidentally inhaling some of the liquid that made it into my mouth, I cough, unable to catch my breath as I set the cup in the holder and jump out of the car.
“Fuck!”
Scanning the area, I’m relieved not to see anybody out here. I pop the trunk and quickly unzip my suitcase, finding a fresh shirt and pants to change into. This so isn’t ideal, but what the hell else am I supposed to do? Making sure there’s still nobody else around, I rip my drenched shirt over my head, throwing it into the trunk before putting the clean one on. Right as I’m about to shimmy out of my pants and do the same, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“What the hell is goin’ on out here?”
My head pops up from above the trunk, and my eyes land on none other than the man who is supposed to be interviewing me. My stomach lurches into my throat as I try to think of a way out of this without him thinking I’m a total weirdo. A bubble of laughter bursts out of me as I step around the back of the car, wanting to show him that I spilled my tea, so I’m just trying to change.
One problem, though… I forgot that I already opened and unzipped my slacks. Like it’s happening in slow motion and I’m witnessing it from outside of my body, my pants fall down my legs as I’m frozen in place. I’m now standing in front of the man I want to offer me a job with my damn pants around my ankles and my soaked boxers clinging to my body. I don’t have to look down to know that my dick print is on full display.
Lord fucking help me.
Finn’s face twists up as his gaze travels down to my shriveled-up dick outline, much to my horror, before coming back up and landing on my face.
“Oh, god,” I mutter, reaching down and working the pants back up as quickly as possible. “I’m so, so sorry! I spilled my tea as I was getting out of the car, and I was trying to change before anybody came out here.”
His eyes narrow. “So, your solution was to get naked in the driveway?”
Folding his arms over his chest, I can’t help but notice how large he is compared to how small I feel right now. My throat is dry as my heart pounds a mile a minute.
“I’m sorry,” I plead again. “I thought I could quickly swap out my pants and shirt before anybody saw. It was stupid. I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not normally this much of a mess. This whole day has been one disaster after another, and I barely made it here as it is. God, you probably think I’m ridiculous.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, which makes my anxiety spike even higher. It’s like he’s watching and judging me, which is almost worse than him saying it all to my face or sending me on my way. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Finally, he drops his arms and mutters, “You can change in the bathroom. Let’s go, I don’t have all day.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, I grab the pants and slam the trunk shut, following him as he leads me into the house that sits beside the barn. “I’m Ash, by the way,” I offer.
“Yeah, I gathered that,” he grunts as he pulls open the screen door and steps inside the cool, air-conditioned house. My eyes scan the space, taking in its beauty. It’s everything I would expect from a ranch-style rambler. Vaulted ceilings, wide open living area, exposed beams, large windows overlooking the property. God, I bet the sunrises in this house are spectacular.
“Your house is beautiful,” I murmur.
Stopping in the middle of the living room, Finn turns to face me, taking in my disheveled appearance once more. “This is my dad’s house,” he says dryly. “I live down the way. Bathroom is down that hall; second door on the left.”
“Oh, uh…” I clear my throat. “Sure. Be right back.”
Five minutes later, Finn is gesturing for me to take a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter. As I do, I assume he’s going to take the one beside me.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he stands with his shoulder pressed against the wall in front of me, arms crossed over his wide chest, as he stares at me like a drill sergeant. The look on his face is one of pure distaste. Or annoyance. Maybe both.
This is already going so well.
“Violet tells me you graduated from the University of Oregon,” he starts. “Why don’t ya tell me a little bit ’bout that.”
Nodding, I say, “Yeah— Yes, I graduated from there with honors about two and a half years ago. I majored in Early Childhood Education and minored in Psychology. It was a great program, and I learned so much. Very much enjoyed my time there.”
“And what did ya do after you graduated?”
“I was placed at a Montessori school right after graduation that I’ve worked at ever since.” Letting out a nervous chuckle, I add, “Well, that is, until they laid me off last week.”
Finn doesn’t look amused. Not a smile in sight.
“What I’m lookin’ for is a little different than what you’re probably used to,” he explains. “As I’m sure you know, I work for this ranch. Ranchers’ hours are long and constant. There are some weeks I’ll have to work every single day, and that’s just the reality of it. Lately, I’ve been able to take the weekends off because of the staff we have, but that won’t always be the case. I leave before the sun comes up most mornings, and I don’t get home till darn near sundown. I need somebody who can move in, and who is willing to entertain Tucker all day long. I prefer him to be as active as possible durin’ the day; I’m not a big fan of tons of screen time. Activities, crafts?—”
“Oh, I’m a big craft guy,” I blurt out, completely cutting him off.
I’m a big craft guy? What the fuck was that?
Finn’s brow furrows, but he continues. “As I was sayin’, there’s lots to do around here. It’s a large piece of land. I’ve got a huge swing set in my backyard, there’s a creek down the way, and there’re parks and stuff in town. We also just got a puppy,” he explains. “Name’s Bubba. I’d need somebody to look after him durin’ the day too. Feed him in the mornin’, make sure he goes potty, doesn’t get into shit he ain’t supposed to.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I say with a smile that he doesn’t return. “And your son is four, correct?”
“Tucker.” He nods. “Yes, he’s four.”
“That’s a fun age.”
Before Finn has a chance to respond, the front door bursts open, and in runs who I’m guessing is Tucker. Covered in what has to be mud and grass stains, he’s holding a melting red popsicle, the juice from that covering not only his hand, but most of his arm, and all around his lips is stained red.
“Daddy!” he shouts, running through the house, tracking in mud from the bottom of his shoes. Colliding with Finn’s leg, he peers up at him with a wide, stained grin. “Grandpa gave me a popsicle!”
“I see that,” Finn murmurs. “What’s all over your clothes, bug?”
Tucker giggles. “Mud.”
That’s it. No explanation.
“And why are you wearin’ mud?” Finn asks before holding his hand up. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s get you into the bath.”
Sliding off the stool, I ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
As if the kid is noticing me for the first time, he glances up at me, eyes squinted. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ash.” I offer him my hand, which probably isn’t the smartest of my ideas since his is covered in sticky popsicle goo. “And you’re Tucker, right?”
Looking up at his dad, then back to me, his grin spreads. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” I wink, which makes him giggle again.
“Okay, bug,” Finn cuts in. “Get your butt to the bathroom, strip down, and get in the tub.” Then he glances over at me. “If you could run up to my house and grab a change of clothes, that’d be helpful.”
“Sure.” I nod enthusiastically. “How do I get there?”
Tucker races down the hall toward the bathroom as Finn blows out an exasperated breath. “Follow the gravel road past this house for about a mile. You’ll see my place on the left. It’s the only one.” Shoving his hand into his pocket, he hands me his keys. “His bedroom is the one at the very end of the hall. Dresser is in the closet.”
“You got it!”
He doesn’t smile or say thank you, or really do anything other than give me a clipped nod before spinning on his heel and heading toward the bathroom. Jogging down the front steps, I hurry over to my car and make my way down the gravel road as he instructed. The house is easy enough to find, and while it’s not nearly as big as the other house, it’s certainly just as nice.
I let myself wonder what it would be like to live here. To wake up and do yoga outside every morning as the sun rises. It would be so peaceful and relaxing. Huffing out a laugh, I just as quickly shove that to the back of my mind because, yeah right . After how I humiliated myself earlier when I got here, and the way Finn clearly wasn’t pleased with interviewing me, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be getting this job.
Which honestly sucks, because I think I’d be a great fit, and it would be something I could enjoy.
After I grab a change of clothes, I head back to the main house, dropping them off in front of the closed bathroom door. From the inside, I can hear Tucker rambling on about something to his dad. He’s talking so dang fast, I doubt Finn can get a word in edgewise. Smiling to myself, I set them down and make my way back to my car.
Guess I’ll just wait and see, and cross my fingers that this ranch will be the answer to all—or at least most—of my problems.