Chapter 5
Meleck
My eyes were on her as soon as she walked all those curves in here. I knew the moment I saw her that this disappointing day was going to end on a good note, a sexy, fine ass note. I had been waiting for the right moment to approach, and as soon as her friend left her alone at the bar, I took it.
“Anything else?” the bartender asks as she slides my beer to me.
“Yeah, can you add their tab to mine?”
While the bartender and I talk, she just stares, speechless.
It’s clear that she’s just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
Hopefully, for her, it’s a good surprise.
When her eyes scan my side profile and she smiles, I start to believe it is.
Earlier today, she hadn’t given me this beautiful smile at all.
All I got was her angry, tight but pretty ass face.
The bartender returns with my beer and her drink.
With her smile still beaming, she takes her glass and taps my bottle.
“Thank you,” she says before taking a sip.
“I still owe you from this morning. I’m real shit sorry for that.”
“Thanks to this glass and my shots earlier, I’m over it now, and truthfully…” she says before raising her glass back to her full lips. With it at her lips, she adds, “I may owe you an apology. I was rude as hell and that’s not me at all. I’m actually pretty chill.”
“I missed the chill,” I say teasingly and her eyebrows raise to the damn ceiling. Before she tells me to go to hell, I quickly add, “I’m fucking with you. It was all my fault because I wasn’t looking. I was too busy caught up in my disappointing morning.”
“I get it. Not all mornings are good,” she says with a relatable tone. “Mine wasn’t the best either.”
“My night is better though,” I admit and she smiles. “I think it’ll be perfect if you give me your name. I’m Meleck.”
“You’re the first Meleck I’ve met. I’m Wren,” she says before quickly adding, “And I know. It’s a guy’s name. The doctors told my parents they were having a boy. So they planned for a boy in every way and my dad chose his middle name for mine. When I came out a girl, he kept the name.”
“I like it; it fits,” I tell her and she cuts her eyes.
“Fits how? Are you calling me manly?” she asks but I can hear the slight laugh in her tone.
“Nah. Not at all. Everything, and I do mean everything, is all woman.”
“Glad you straightened that up,” she says, then drinks more of her cocktail. She turns on her barstool, facing me. “But who are you, sir? I’m born and raised here and I know everybody in Miller’s Pointe but I don’t know you. Do you have fam here or are you seasonal?”
“Both. My uncle works at The Phoxes Den and I came here to work there.”
“Oh, for Beauden. I do business with him…Well, mostly his wife but he’s really nice. You’re gonna love it there. That ranch is beautiful but you were there and you saw it. What do you do?”
“I grew up on a small ranch so I can do anything but electrical is my specialty.”
With raised eyebrows and curiosity in her tone, she asks, “Electrical, like what?”
“I’m an electrician. I work on electrical systems: transformers, circuit breakers, electrical boxes, and even lightning rods. Anything electrical.”
“So, if your sockets don’t always work but your breaker box doesn’t show anything, what can that be?”
“I mean; it depends. It could be a number of things.”
“Expensive things?” she asks and this feels very specific.
“That depends too. Is this your house?”
“My barn and it’s been acting weird for a minute. My freezer is there and I keep all my goat milk inside. I’m scared it’s going to just stop working and I’ll lose all of my milk.”
“You have that much goat milk?” I question, just out of pure curiosity. Most people don’t store or freeze goat milk unless they can’t drink cow milk or are selling it.
“Yes. I make and sell soaps made from it. Christmas is a big season for me and I need my milk,” she explains and I nod.
“Then I can look at it for you,” I tell her.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. Let me look at it for you.”
“My jars didn’t cost that much. I’ll pay you.”
“I don’t think you know what volunteer means,” I joke. “I’ll look at it, no charge.”
“Are you sure?” she asks and I nod. “If it wasn’t so late, hell, I would say let’s go now. I really can’t afford for anything to happen to my milk.”
“Then, we can go. I can look at it after this drink.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am,” I say and her entire pretty face lights up.
She lifts her glass, as if to take another sip, but the music changes, the beat drops, and she turns to me with wide eyes. “That’s my song,” she says as she snatches my Jaxson off my head. “And I need this.”
She places my hat on her head, hops off the stool, and rushes to the dance floor.
Damn near every woman in the bar does, including her friend.
They line up and start dancing but my eyes stay glued to her.
While holding my hat with one hand, she sways those hips, steps to the side, then to the front and back then drops down, slow and sensual.
When she comes back up, she sways her hips and sticks her tongue out.
That shit is sexy as hell.
She continues to dance, working that fine ass body until the end of the song. When it ends, she hugs her friend then walks back over to me. She grabs her drink, downs it, then looks up at me.
“You ready, cowboy?” she asks, beaming, still on a high from her dance, and shit, so am I. God blessed Wren with a banging ass body she knows how to move it.
“For you? Hell yeah,” I say and she smiles.
“For my barn?” she clarifies.
“Shit, both,” I reiterate. “We can go,” I say then motion for the bartender. When she walks over, I tell her to close my tab. “Do I get my hat back?” I ask Wren.
“You don’t like it on me?”
“I love it on you,” I admit.
“Then, no. I’m keeping it for now,” she says, then winks.
“You got that.” The bartender returns with the tab. After adding a tip, I sign it and we walk out. “How did you get here?” I ask Wren.
“Oh shit. An iDrive. Did you drive?”
“Yeah. This truck right here,” I say, nodding to my Unc’s ride. She follows me and I unlock and open the door for her. Once she’s in, I walk over to my side and crank up. “Where am I going?”
“Just turn left when you drive out. I’m on the opposite side of town from The Phoxes Den.
My little ranchette is not too far from here,” she says and I follow her lead.
Besides small talk, we pretty much ride in silence until we turn down a small private road, Harris Place.
“You gonna go all the way to the end then turn right.”
“It’s dark back here. You need a street light,” I say and she grins.
“I don’t need a light. I’ll always know how to get home,” she utters. When I pull into the driveway, she says, “We’re here. Pull right up to the garage door.”
“All of this is you?” I comment as I look up at the large house.
“Me and my sister’s.”
“You said ranchette. This isn’t that.”
“Well, compared to The Phoxes Den it is, but it’s all ours. The home my daddy worked so hard for and left for me and my sister. I love every piece of it,” she says and I can hear the love in her voice.
“How old is your sister?”
“Fifteen, and speaking of her, ugh. Hopefully, she’s asleep. I don’t want to answer a hundred questions about you being here.”
“You can just show me the barn,” I suggest and she nods in agreement.
I kill the engine and we exit the truck. We walk around the house to a wrought iron gate and she unlocks and opens it. We journey about a mile, passing a small coop.
“So you just have land and chickens?” I ask.
“No. Behind the barn is my goat pen and out further, the berry farm. I make jams with my berries and soaps from my goat milk,” she says proudly.
“And you take care of all of this by yourself?” I question, because forty acres is a lot of land.
“Yeah, basically, but my sister Amara helps when I need it. I’ve been farming and ranching since I could walk. I can handle it,” she says confidently.
“I have no doubt but it’s still a lot,” I comment. It’s impressive as fuck though, knowing she handles all of this land. We approach the barn and she flips a switch as soon as we walk in. The lights flicker then fade in, dim to bright. “Yeah. That’s a problem.”
“One you can fix though, right?” she asks with concern.
“I got you. Where’s your breaker?”
“All the way in the back by the door,” she says and starts to walk off.
I follow her through the barn, noting the outlets, appliances, and cords running on the walls.
I also notice the knob-and-tube wiring. That alone is a problem.
Not only is that a fire hazard but knob-and-tube can’t handle modern appliances.
More than likely her circuit is overloaded but I need to check the breaker and the outlets to be sure.
When we reach the breaker box, I grab the flashlight resting on top, then open the box. At first glance, I confirm what I suspect. The actual panel is rusted and there’s a slight burnt smell.
“Come here,” I tell her and she steps closer. “Do you smell that?”
After leaning and inhaling, she sighs then says, “Yes. It’s bad, huh?”
“Not good. And you see this rust? This breaker is old and so is your wiring. “When was the last time any of this was replaced?”
“Replaced? Ugh, never. I’m thinking. My dad had someone work on it a while ago but nothing has been replaced. God, I knew it was bad.” She sighs as her shoulders deflate then she steps back. She crosses her arms and looks at me intently. “How much?” she asks and her pretty face looks sad as fuck.
“It’s not the expense but the amount of time,” I say, trying to comfort her.
Then I close the box. “Let me show you something.” She follows me as I walk toward the freezer.
After pulling it from the wall, I show her the outlet and the wires.
“A lot of older barns have this knob-and-tube wiring. It works, but not with appliances like this. You need NM-B wiring,” I say, then quickly explain when I see the confused look on her face.
“A non-metallic cable with insulated copper wires. I can switch it all out, install a new breaker, and rewire this whole thing. It’ll take a minute though but it’s doable and not too much. ”
“How long you think?”
“About four to five days.”
“Four to five days is a lot. That has to be expensive.”
“I’m volunteering my services. I owe you, remember?”
“Some broken jam jars definitely don’t equal rewiring. I wouldn’t even feel right not paying you. Besides, doing this while working all day at The Phoxes Den is going to be too much,” she says.
“Nah, it won’t. I originally came here to work at The Phoxes Den but I was too late.
I got stuck in bad weather in Missouri and my trip was delayed.
By the time I got here this morning, all the spots were taken.
I might be able to get on at the Circle Bar G next week, but for right now, I’m open. I’m all yours.”
“But if you’re not there, where are you staying? This time of year, everywhere is booked.”
“I was going to look for a room until something opened up,” I admit.
“I’m almost positive it’s full but I may have a solution since you won’t let me pay you.
Come on. Let me show you something,” she says and she starts toward the barn door.
I follow her and we walk back toward the main house.
“It’s small but it has everything,” she says as we approach the stairs.
“Before I was old enough to help on the ranch, my dad would get seasonal help. They stayed up here. I use it for storage now but it has everything you need, except a kitchen.”
She heads up the stairs and I follow, enjoying the view. When she reaches the door, she puts in the code on the lock, unlocks it, then twists the knob to open. She walks in a few steps then turns on the light.
The attic has been converted into a small apartment. Under the wooden frames and insulated walls are a full-size bed, a small dresser, a desk with a chair, and a table with a small microwave on top and a mini fridge under the table.
“There’s a little bathroom back there,” she says, pointing.
“There’s a small shower inside. As you can see, all of my Christmas decorations are in this corner.
It’s not too big and it’s a little dusty up here, but I think it’ll do.
I love the skylight. It’s my favorite. You can see the stars at night.
You’re welcome to stay if you like. It’s the least I can do. ”
“Shit, it’s perfect,” I admit, taking it all in and meaning every word. I’m on a beautiful ranch. I can sleep under the stars and I can be near her. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You look harmless. Besides, the entry to the house is blocked and I have an entire rifle collection. This cowgirl can hunt and my aim is impeccable,” she says with a slight grin but I believe every word.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I assure her.
“Then we’re good.”
“Well, let me leave you to settle into your space. It’s getting late and I get up early. We can look at the barn again and talk about this wiring when the sun comes up.”
She walks toward the door, and when she passes me, I grab her hand. She stops and looks back at me.
“Thank you for real.”
“Of course.” She flashes me a smile then removes my hat from her head. She places it back on my head. “Get some sleep, cowboy,” she says before walking out of the door and damn.
She is truly perfection.