20. Lennon
20
LENNON
“S
hould’ve known I’d find you here.” Arms banded around my waist as I stared out of CJ’s bedroom window. “You can go out there, you know.”
There was something poetic about watching the horses being fed into the circular horse walker for a cool down or to get a little exercise.
I felt a little bit like those horses—running under the guise of freedom, but still trapped.
It had been a week since that night I ran through the rain to the bunkhouse.
A week of sleeping in CJ’s bed—sometimes beside him, sometimes alone.
A week of waiting until every restaurant employee had left before sneaking over to the bunkhouse.
A week of his hands on my body, worshiping and pleasing me, but not himself.
A week of wildflowers at every turn. He’d leave them on the bed. By my toothbrush. On top of my work shoes. In the pocket of my chef’s coat.
“You have a good spot for keeping an eye on the ranch,” I said as I pushed off of the window and peeled away from him.
“It used to be the best view,” he admitted as he grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I used to sleep with the curtains open so I could watch the sunrise every morning.” He tossed it into the hamper. “Now I have to sleep with them closed so the headlights don’t wake me up.”
“That sucks,” I mumbled. Guilt sank like a stone in my stomach. I couldn’t imagine growing up here, having free rein of the land, only for it to completely change in the blink of an eye.
I felt his body against mine again as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “It used to.”
My curiosity got the best of me. “It used to suck?”
CJ chuckled. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and snagged the hem of the shirt I was in as I passed by to get to the closet. CJ reeled me in, keeping one hand knotted in cotton and one hand on the back of my thigh.
“This is a good look on you.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m in your shirt and you can see my nipples.” The outlines of my piercings were rather prominent.
He chuckled. “I’m not arguing.”
“Tell me why it used to suck and why it doesn’t currently suck.”
Gold eyes glinted with mischief as he licked his lips. “Tell me why you’ll lock yourself up here like a princess in a tower instead of watching the horses against the fence like everyone else? Brooke doesn’t bite. In fact, she’s probably the nicest one out of all of us.”
I didn’t particularly like being called out like that. “I’m not locking myself in a tower.”
“You never leave on your days off. I didn’t put those shiny new tires on your car for nothing. All you do is walk to the restaurant and run back here when you think no one’s looking.”
“No one likes a know-it-all,” I snapped as I pulled away from his grip.
I should have known CJ wouldn’t let me go. He yanked me down until I collapsed on top of him. Right when I got my bearings, he trapped my legs in a death roll.
CJ grabbed my hands and pinned them to my sides as he straddled my hips. “Just so we’re clear, I can rope a calf faster than that. So, either you can cooperate, or I can tie you up.”
“I’m cautious. That’s the only answer you’re getting,” I snapped with a little more vitriol than I meant to. “And you’re filthy. Get off me.”
CJ had been working through the night again, leaving me to sleep alone, snuggled up to his pillow so I could smell him.
His thumbs stroked my wrists with a tenderness I had only seen in movies. “You’re safe here. No one will touch you.”
“And how do you know that?” I grumbled as I tried to wrench free.
I should have known better. It only made him hold me down tighter. He used his knee to pin my thigh down.
“Because they know you’re mine.”
I let out a laugh that was loud, long, and wholly insulting to the seriousness of the moment.
“Don’t believe me?”
I rolled my head across the mattress. “I think you want me to think you’re serious.”
“Ever wonder why the guys don’t make a move on you? I told them not to.”
My teeth sounded like sandpaper on gravel, but CJ never bluffed. Not once.
“Ask me again.”
“Ask you what?”
“Ask me why the view doesn’t suck as much as it used to.”
Pressure pricked at the back of my eyes, and I shook my head. “I don’t think I want to know that answer,” I whispered.
“Ask me, Len.”
My whisper was broken. “Why?”
CJ eased off of me and helped me off the bed. The niceness of the gesture was gone when he marched me up to the window and pressed me against the glass.
“Because I stay up late and watch you.” He took my hand and laced our fingers, then pointed, trailing my finger along the glass pane. “I watch you get out of your car there and walk inside the restaurant. I watch you all night long when you stay overnight to keep the smoker going so I know you’re safe. I watch you walk from the restaurant to your car when you’re done for the night. You are my favorite view.”
He pulled a wilted flower from his pocket and slipped it into my hand, then turned away to finish getting undressed.
I reeled from his confession and desperately needed to get hold of my sanity. Feelings were the quickest way to let my guard down, and I couldn’t risk that. “Did you have a chance to look at the security cameras to see who slashed my tires?”
His expression grew solemn. “Whoever did it avoided them. We have a lot of cameras, but it’s a big property. There are a lot of blind spots.”
“Oh . . .” My heart sank.
CJ had insisted on changing my tires, my oil, and fixing a few other things that were overdue. It took him some time, but he finally stopped trying to convince me to go to the police. I didn’t need their help. I just wanted to know who had done it so I could be careful.
“That’s fine. I was curio?—”
“The new cameras have shipped. They should be here by the weekend, and I’ll get them installed right away when they come in.”
That had me freezing in place. “You ordered more cameras?”
CJ had stripped down to nothing but his boxers. He stood toe-to-toe with me and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you. I made it clear that no one fucks with you. And I take it personally that someone ignored that order. It won’t happen again.”
I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed him away. I needed space. I needed to breathe, and it was impossible when he was near.
“We’re even. You can stop being my knight in cowboy boots now. I need to get to work.”
“We’re not even,” CJ said as he watched me get dressed.
If I was being honest, I didn’t like the days when our schedules were opposite. Even though I was used to being alone, I never felt lonely. Not until I had a taste of what companionship felt like.
Maybe that’s what we were.
Not friends, but not enemies. We understood each other, and that was enough.
While I slipped on my tread-safe shoes, his shadow appeared in front of me. “Put this on. It’s cold out today.”
“I guarantee it’s not the kind of cold I’m used to,” I said as I stretched up and looked at the heavy tan coat in his hands. “Winter in Texas is basically spring in New York. I’d wear shorts in this weather.”
“Humor me,” he said without a hint of it in his voice.
“It’s a two-minute walk.”
“Put the fucking jacket on, Lennon.” There was a tiredness in his words. It bled into his eyes, drawing them down with the weight of the world.
I didn’t feel like arguing and being late. “Fine,” I clipped as I slid my arms into the sherpa-lined jacket and adjusted it over my chef’s coat. A logo was embroidered on the breast, mostly matching the one on my uniform.
“It’s the original ranch logo. Before Cassandra had it redesigned to include the lodge and restaurant, too.”
“It’s nice,” I said as I grabbed my phone and shoved it into my pocket.
One of those weighty thoughts floated across his face, but he didn’t bring it to the tip of his tongue.
Instead, he said, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”
I shoved my hands in the jacket pockets to keep them warm on the walk, only to find a handful of little flowers.
I laughed as I pulled them out and set them on top of the dresser. “What is with you and picking wildflowers?” I asked as I wiped the dirt out of the bottom of the pockets.
CJ smoothed his hands over my shoulders and arms. “They remind me of you. Wildflowers grow where they want. Soil. Sand. Cracks in the sidewalk. Cities and open fields. They thrive in the worst conditions. And just when you think you’ve cut them down, they spring back up. They’re always the first thing to grow back after a wildfire as a reminder of hope and a little audacity.”
I stood still as a statue while he kissed me on the cheek and wished me a good day at work as he caught up on sleep.
The walk over to the restaurant was a blur. The weight of CJ’s coat pulled me down. Instead of warming me, it was a cinder block dragging me to inescapable depths. I wanted to relax into the softness and comfort, but I couldn’t. Unease gnawed at my gut.
I needed to leave.
If my brother or the person he was working with knew where I was, I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t put these people at risk.
“Lennon.”
I looked up at the sound of my name. Cassandra and Brooke were walking down the pebble path that led to and from the lodge. Brooke’s jaw was on the ground. Cassandra’s surprise was much more restrained, but still palpable.
I balled up my fists in the pockets of the jacket, digging my nails into my palms. “Good morning.”
Cassandra cut her eyes in the direction I had come from, then turned her full attention to me. “Nice jacket. Where’d you get it?”
Ah, there was the cutting tone everyone at the restaurant had come to fear. There was no sense in lying. She’d sniff out the truth.
“CJ loaned it to me.” That sounded amicable, right?
Brooke choked. “I’m sorry. I think this pregnancy affected my hearing. What ?”
I lifted my chin and turned to Cassandra. “You told us to get along. We’re getting along.”
“A little too well, apparently,” Cassandra clipped. “Heading to work?”
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said as she wrapped an arm around her baby belly and leaned on Cassandra for support. “He gave you his jacket? But that’s?—”
Cassandra clapped her hand over Brooke’s mouth, muffling whatever else she had to say.
“Okay...” I said, stepping back cautiously. “This is weird, and I have to get to work.”
Brooke squirmed and shouted against Cassandra’s hand, but I ignored it and headed into the restaurant.
“Yo, Chef. What’s good?” Zach gave me a chin tip from the prep station where he was busy peeling potatoes and dropping them into the water.
I cut through the kitchen and dumped my things and CJ’s jacket in the office. The warm aroma of brisket corn chowder filled the kitchen today as aromatics were sautéed and giant batches of soup were simmering in the tilt kettles.
“Good morning,” I said as I grabbed my apron and tied it around my waist. “How are things going?”
“Good,” Julian said with a yawn as he sauntered in, smelling like a bonfire. “We’re out of mop sauce.”
I let out a quiet laugh under my breath. The poor guy had drawn the short straw of babysitting the smoker all night long.
“How was your night?”
“Boring,” he grumbled as he beelined for the staff coffee maker and filled a paper cup to the brim. “Those briskets are looking sexy, though.”
He shotgunned the caffeine, then went to work. He mixed water, minced onion, salted butter, Worcestershire sauce, and vinegar in a giant pot until it was steaming.
“Cut the heat and leave it there,” I said as I finished my rounds, checking in on everyone before settling in for the day. “Wrap up your side work. I’ll keep an eye on the smoker so you can get out of here and get some sleep.”
“Say, I didn’t see you leave last night,” Julian said as he went to work, sorting through our vegetable discard to make a mirepoix for beef stock.
I liked that very little went to waste. Chef DeRossi and I crafted a menu that honored the cattle raised on the ranch by using almost every part of the animal.
“Late night,” I clipped. “I had business with the family.”
That was enough to stop him from asking more questions. From day one of everyone’s onboarding, Chef DeRossi had made it clear that we were guests at the ranch, and that the Griffith family held more sway than he did.
“Right,” Julian said as he ran his knife through a few pounds of carrots, onion, and celery, topping off what the vegetable discard lacked. “So, what’s the deal with you and the Griffith who came storming in here the other day and called you Eleanor?”
I bristled, but tamped it down. “Mr. Griffith and I had a misunderstanding. That’s all. It doesn’t pertain to this kitchen, and we resolved it.”
“Sounded pretty serious,” Julian said without any heat behind the comment.
It wasn’t uncommon for us to make small talk throughout the day. I just didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of that small talk.
“Did you guys know each other before working here or something?” he asked.
“Or something,” I clipped.
The steady rhythms of knives on cutting boards and the clank of dishes filled the silence. There was a certain peace in it. A safety in it. Those sounds were music to my ears.
I didn’t want to leave this kitchen.
I didn’t want to leave the ranch.
But I didn’t have a choice.