Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Reid
Yesterday’s storm is finally letting up, but the sky’s still got that heavy, overcast look. It’s holding onto something, as if waiting for a crack.
Or maybe it’s just me, trying to find anything to focus on other than Clint’s mood.
And right now, it’s not a good one.
I’m just wandering through the ranch, whistling, because that’s what I do. Whistle, hum, make noise. It’s what keeps things light around here.
But even my tunes can’t seem to cut through the storm that’s hanging over Clint.
The guy’s usually pretty chill, but there’s something off about him today. He’s walking around with that look that says he’s just one wrong question away from blowing up.
I stroll over to Sawyer, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he scribbles on a notepad.
“You notice anything weird about Clint today?” I ask, leaning on the fence next to him. “Because the guy’s got a temper that’s about to pop, and I have no idea why.”
Sawyer barely glances up, adjusting his glasses, deep in thought. “Isn’t he always like that?”
I snort, but it’s a dry sound. “Yeah, yeah, he’s got his moods. But this one’s different. You feel it too, right?”
Sawyer hesitates, looking at Clint, who’s doing his best impression of a stone statue over by the cattle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, yeah. The guy’s usually all about moving cattle, fixing fences, not glaring at the horizon, waiting for the apocalypse,” I say, watching Clint out of the corner of my eye.
Sawyer shrugs, his attention back to his paper. “Maybe he just didn’t get enough coffee this morning.”
I laugh. “That’s Clint’s magic potion. Dude needs a whole vat of it.”
Sawyer smiles, but his brow furrows a little. “I don’t know. Maybe we should just leave him to it. He’s not a big talker.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s something going on, man. I can feel it.”
Sawyer glances at Clint again, his face stoic. “Yeah, but we’ve gotta let him come to us, Reid. He’s not the kind of guy to open up unless he’s ready. You know that.”
I sigh, leaning back on the fence. “I know, I know. Doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”
Sawyer shoots me a sideways grin. “With Clint? Probably. But you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”
I chuckle at that. “Nope, never met a challenge I didn’t like.”
Sawyer finally puts his pen down and stands, brushing off his pants. “Well, don’t go throwing yourself into the lion’s den if you’re not ready for him to bite your head off.”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a grin. “I’ll just poke the bear and see if he wakes up. How bad could it be?”
Sawyer watches me go, shaking his head. “Famous last words.”
I make my way over to Clint, trying to keep my steps light, not wanting to make him feel cornered. Clint’s not one to be rushed, and he definitely doesn’t enjoy having people all up in his space when he’s in a mood.
But hell, that’s never stopped me before.
“Yo, Clint!” I call. “You done brooding for the day, or should I give you another five minutes?”
Clint doesn’t even turn to look at me right away, just continues staring out over the cattle, waiting for something to happen.
Finally, he glances at me, and the look he gives me is pure Clint: a little too intense, a little too serious. But I see that tiny flash of irritation in his eyes. He’s trying to keep it together.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles.
I grin. “Oh, I can tell. You’re so fine I could almost hear you growling from across the ranch.”
Clint gives me a small, almost imperceptible smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
I raise an eyebrow, knowing I’m not getting the full story. “Yeah, no kidding. The whole ranch can feel it. You need to talk about it, or are you planning to keep all that locked up till the next full moon?”
Clint’s eyes narrow at me, trying to decide if I’m a good distraction or if I’m just annoying the hell out of him. Finally, he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away for a second.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he mutters.
“Try me,” I say, still grinning. “I’ve got a knack for getting people to talk.”
Clint huffs, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s not the type to spill his guts easily, but I know him well enough to know when I’ve pushed just enough.
“Look, Reid,” he says finally, “it’s nothing. Just… work stuff. And you know how it is. There’s a lot we need to do at this ranch to bring it back to what it once was.”
I give him a playful shove. “I know, but you also know we’re the ones to do it.”
He cracks another tiny smile, shaking his head at me. “You’re something else, you know that?”
I wink. “I’ve been told.”
He doesn’t offer much else, but that’s Clint for you. Mysterious, brooding, a man of few words. At least I got a smile out of him. That’s progress.
But for now, I’m starving. I leave Clint to his thoughts and walk to my truck, craving something from The Old Mill Café. So I head into town.
The café’s warm interior is a welcome contrast to the damp, gray day outside. Violet’s behind the counter, as usual, her auburn hair tucked into a messy bun, and a white apron dusted with flour hanging around her waist.
She’s pouring coffee when I walk in, and her eyes light up when she spots me. “Well, look who finally decided to come in from the rain,” she teases, wiping her hands on her apron before waving me over. “What’ll it be, Reid? Don’t tell me you’re still on that ranch diet of coffee and dust.”
I grin, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Maybe. But I’m thinking you might have something better on offer today.”
Violet chuckles, leaning on the counter. “We’ve got freshly baked cinnamon rolls. And if that doesn’t tempt you, I’ve got some leftover chicken pot pie that’s practically a secret weapon for getting through a gloomy day.”
“Sold,” I say, giving her my best exaggerated pleading look. “And a coffee, obviously. You know how I am with caffeine.”
Violet smirks, already moving. “I’ll make sure it’s strong enough to wake the dead. You’ve got that kind of face today.”
“Thanks. You’re the best,” I reply with a wink.
While I wait, I notice a few familiar faces scattered around the café. Tommy Jones, the grocery store owner, is hunched over a cup of coffee, chatting with Riley McCarter, who bartends at the Silver Bit Tavern.
They’re talking about the rodeo coming up in July, speculating about who’s going to win this year’s bronc riding competition.
I overhear snippets of their conversation as they laugh and joke, the friendly ease of small-town life settling in around me. There’s something comforting about this place. Everything and everyone has their role in the rhythm of the day.
The door swings open, and a chill breeze sweeps through the cafe. Violet pauses, giving me an apologetic smile before she heads to greet the new customer. I glance over and spot Hank Miller, the sheriff.
He’s looking a little rough around the edges, as if he hasn’t had much sleep recently. Not surprising. He loves this town more than anyone I know, and runs on adrenaline most of the time.
Hank’s eyes catch mine, and he raises a hand in greeting.
“Reid,” he says. “How’s the ranch? Still holding on?”
I nod, giving him a quick smile. “Just trying to keep the wheels from falling off. You know how it is.”
Hank huffs out a small laugh, leaning against the counter. “I do. Hell, I’ve been trying to keep the whole town from falling apart lately. You ever get that feeling like you’re just fighting fires that never go out?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Every damn day.”
“Lucky us.”
Violet comes back with my food and coffee, placing them down in front of me with a teasing smile. “So, what’s been going on then? What have I missed??”
Hank raises an eyebrow at her. “Violet, I don’t know how you manage to keep this place running with all the gossip you hear. You’re the best therapist in town.”
Violet’s grin widens. “That’s because I’m cheap and offer free refills. What’s your excuse for keeping me around?”
Hank laughs, tipping his hat. “Guess it’s the cinnamon rolls. They’re a real game changer.”
The bell above the café door rings again, and the cool rushes in, a reminder of the storm. I glance up, and my stomach does a little flip.
In walk a woman and a child.
My mind stalls as I take them in. The woman is striking.
Dark auburn hair, long and flowing, a few damp strands sticking to her freckled face. She’s got this quiet beauty about her, but it’s the way she moves, graceful, composed, that catches my attention.
I’m sure I’ve seen her before. I think she went to high school here. But seeing her in this way, walking into the café with a child at her side, something about her sticks with me, nagging at the back of my mind, as if I’m supposed to remember something important.
The kid beside her, a little boy, maybe five or six, pulls at her hand, his tiny boots clicking on the floor, on a mission. His eyes are bright, mischievous, and I can’t help but wonder what trouble he’s planning to get into.
Violet’s face lights up instantly. She practically skips over to them, all but vibrating with excitement. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost, or maybe a long-lost friend, because she’s beaming so hard it’s impossible to miss.
“Dakota!” she exclaims, giving the woman a big hug. “Thank goodness you’re finally here.”
Dakota.
Yeah, I remember her a little.
She turns her head just enough that our eyes meet, and for a brief moment, I feel I’ve been punched in the chest. She’s looking at me as if she knows me too, but there’s a quiet hesitation in her gaze.
And suddenly, it feels like I’m seeing her. Really seeing her.
Her smile is polite, restrained; she’s not sure how much to give away. Something shifts in me. The way she stands, the way she holds herself—she’s got this quiet strength, but there’s more beneath the surface.
I rise from my seat, more out of instinct than anything else. The polite thing to do is introduce myself.
I extend my hand, my words coming out a little more breathless than I intended. “Reid. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Reid. I’m Dakota.”
“Dakota Fletcher?” Hank booms beside me. “I didn’t know we’d ever see you again.”
Dakota laughs and blushes a little. “Yeah. Just for a little while. Showing Charlie where his mama grew up.”
“Well, the food is still just as good as it always was.” Hank laughs. “The town, too.”
What is that look on Dakota’s face?
And why am I so damn intrigued by her?