Chapter 5
Nash hoisted the shovel and flung a hot heap of muck into the wheelbarrow.
So this was what he got for coming back? No Ride Free meetings to participate in, no trail ride tours through the majestic lands; he got stuck with grunt work.
Not only that, but Nash hadn't taken much of a weekend for himself since he'd been making up for his absence at home. Sure, Uncle Lloyd had the ranch hands fill in for him the best they could, but there were certain tasks Nash took pride in having mastered. One of those was properly surveying the land for downed posts to keep the cattle from straying. Another was taking care of predators threatening the livestock. Both areas had caused chaos over the weekend, making Nash’s absence all the more cumbersome for those at home.
The self-righteous side of Nash was convinced he had every reason to rightfully step down from his self-imposed obligations at Wild Buck’s, but his conscience was putting up a fight. Besides, Uncle Lloyd would never hear of it. Once a man gave his word, he needed to honor it.
A glance at the shadows across the corral told Nash it was well past noon.
In fact, it was probably closer to 2:00 by now, and Nash had been there since 8:00 a.m. Never mind the fact that he could only log four hours a day to complete the eighty hours he’d committed to.
Tucker had found extra chores to keep him around even still.
Like cleaning out the stable where one of the horses had stayed while in wait of a vet.
A horse that had a bad case of the irregulars, as Tucker put it.
Add another rightful reason to quit. He was putting in more hours than he was getting credit for and cleaning up crap.
Nash began role-playing the conversation in his head:
I didn't want to have to do this, but unfortunately, my uncle Lloyd is really struggling to keep things afloat, and I need to be there. That didn't sound so bad.
Gee, you know, I've really been enjoying my time here, and I fully intended to put in all eighty hours and more; unfortunately, I just didn't realize how much it would affect things back at home.
Yeah, I know it's tough, ranch life, dealing with coyotes, loss of livestock…
Thanks, Yeah, I'll be sure and tell my Uncle Lloyd thanks for lending me as long as he did.
That should do it.
Nash jabbed the shovel beneath the last pile in the pen, telling himself the next time he shoveled muck, it would be at his own ranch, not here.
He was done being the errand boy—the do-whatever-they-had-in-mind guy. As far as he was concerned, his obligation ended when the facility went back on their end of things. Nash hadn’t signed up to do crud like this; he’d signed up to help with horse activities for the guests.
“Hey, son?”
Nash stiffened at the sound of Tucker's voice. He imagined accidentally flinging the steaming pile in his direction.
“I know you're wrapping things up for the day,” Tucker continued, “but we have a certain guest here who’d like a little time with the horses. Not to ride them, mind you, but to get acquainted. I think Buttercup would be a nice fit.”
That did it. “Sorry,” Nash blurted, “but activity time is over. And since I've been shoveling crap for two hours past my shift, that certain guest and Buttercup are gonna have to pucker up and kiss me goodbye.”
“Is that so?”
Nash’s eyes doubled in size at the sound of that question. Because Tucker wasn't the one who asked it.
And heaven help him, but Nash’s mind must be playing tricks on him because he was 99.
9% sure he recognized that voice. It was the same voice that, in Come Out Swinging, told the team they needed to stick together like birds of a feather.
The same voice that told a very lucky James Marsh that she'd fallen madly in love with him even though they’d only been pretending to like each other in Fake This.
Nash straightened, leaned the shovel against the railing, and looked down at the mucking boots he'd stepped into before cleaning the stall.
Why? Why, in the name of everything holy, did he have to meet her under circumstances like this? He had shown up on his first day looking like a million cowboy bucks, ready to make heads turn and cheeks blush.
If she had to stumble on him doing something other than working with the horses, he’d have preferred she walked in while he was fixing Tucker’s drain beneath the sink. That was more civilized and far more manly. Beyond that, Nash had just insulted her with his childish rant.
He stifled a groan and, with great effort, set his shoulders upright where they belonged. Slowly then, he spun on one muck-covered boot.
Blonde hair, wide eyes, a flawless face he’d admired more often than he wanted to admit. He trailed his gaze down her poised stature, slender figure, and the lean she had on one hip.
His heart dropped like an anchor in the deep blue sea.
“Nash, meet Eleanor Blaire.”
Cheeks were warming all right, but it was Nash’s. It was few and far between that he heard Ellie Blaire's full name, Eleanor. It felt intimate, in a way, especially as he moved his gaze back up to her amused expression.
“Eleanor, this is Wild Buck’s volunteer for the month, Nash Copeland, who’d typically be very happy to accommodate you. Unfortunately, it sounds like we've caught him at a bad—”
“No, no, no, it's fine,” Nash stammered with the wave of his arms. His hand smacked the shovel’s handle and sent it flying straight into the pile of muck.
Nash gave it no more than a glance and made his way out of the stall.
“Give me a minute to step out of these boots, and I'll introduce you to Buttercup.”
Ellie could not count on all ten fingers and all ten toes the roles she'd played in her lifetime.
It was rare, however, that her actual life felt like it was something right out of a movie.
In retrospect, the moment of her arrest was pretty dramatic, as was the moment her dad told her about the severity of his gambling debt and the direct impact it had on her life.
But never had she recognized a movie moment like she did right then. The gorgeous cowboy tipped his hat in her direction, stooped to grab a pair of abandoned boots, and excused himself before disappearing through an open doorway around the back of the barn.
“He is usually more congenial,” Tucker said wryly.
Ellie had enjoyed her time with Tucker this morning.
She'd expected the addiction counselor to look more, well, stuffy, if she were honest. Maybe wearing a collared shirt with a sweater vest?
What she got was a weathered cowboy with a fascinating past. Sure, they'd only spent an hour getting acquainted, but already, she knew quite a bit about him.
After becoming an addict in his youth, Tucker battled with addiction into his early 30s.
Upon meeting his wife, which happened only after he got sober, Tucker became a mentor here at Wild Buck’s Ranch with his late wife at his side.
And though they hadn't gotten too deep into Ellie's reason for being there, Tucker had already opened the door—and laid out the welcome mat by opening up about his own past problems.
That thought was yanked from her mind as the handsome cowboy strode back through the walkway like a western man on a serious mission.
He locked eyes with her, and all the butterflies she’d pretended to feel while filming moments like these flapped wildly in her tummy.
She could have used a moment like this in her studies, all the times the producer set the stage: ‘You just saw the guy you have a crush on in school.’ Or ‘The guy you like just looked at you and smiled.’
Ellie had developed crushes on boys over the years, but she'd never been taken off guard the way she had been in the presence of this intriguing cowboy at Wild Buck’s Ranch.
She’d gotten used to seeing people in their staged environment.
Like the actor Zach White, who played a billionaire boss working in a high rise.
And when Danny Jennings played the role of a firefighting hero, the most appealing thing about him was the facade; she wouldn’t mind falling in love with a small-town firefighter with a Dalmatian named Fred.
The actor himself, however, left something to be desired.
But this guy? Nash—such a fitting name—was a real-life Montana cowboy. And there was something very appealing about that, even if he was ticked off about having to introduce her to Buttercup.
Ellie covered a grin as she replayed what he'd said—that she and the horse could pucker up and tell him goodbye for the day. This cowboy had an attitude, and for some reason she didn't mind that one bit.
He'd changed his tune, of course, as soon as he noted his company, but she enjoyed getting a glimpse of that raw reaction.
"Looks like Nash is suddenly feeling more agreeable," Tucker mumbled, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Let me know if he gives you any trouble."
Ellie grinned, keeping her eyes set on the cowboy. Nash, she reminded herself. “I sure will.”
Tucker sauntered off as Nash got closer. The butterflies in her tummy must have invited their friends.
Ellie sensed his lingering chagrin in the occasional duck of his head as he strode back down the wide corridor; she couldn't help but enjoy this reformed version of him.
Still, she also sensed a level of confidence in the lifted span of his broad shoulders and muscled chest. Muscles gained from long, hard days on the field, not four o'clock mornings in the gym. Why was that so appealing?
Men in Hollywood would kill for that jawline, strong and distinct. He didn’t have a beard, per se, but his dark, trimmed facial hair was more than a mere five o’clock shadow.
He extended his arm to her. "Let's try this again. Hi, Ellie, I'm Nash."