10. Presley
Chapter 10
Presley
Gravel spits out from the wheels of my car as I drive the long road to the Montgomery ranch. I have my minimal stuff in the trunk, so if Blake doesn’t end up hiring me, I guess I’m sleeping at the tiny motel I saw when I first drove into town. It gave me Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho vibes, though, so I’d rather not.
The sounds of “Man of Constant Sorrow” covered by Alison Kraus & Union Station fill my car from some random radio station I found. I can’t help my smile at how appropriate it is for my current situation. But that’s one of the things I love most about music. Somehow, the songs I hear always seem to be the soundtrack to whatever is going on in my life.
I glance in the rearview mirror at the case of my Antonio Strad Heritage violin. It’s my single prized possession in my pathetic existence, and it stares at me from the backseat as if it has eyes. Very judgy eyes. Eyes that say, Why did you run, Presley? You gave up the opportunity of a lifetime, Presley. Or maybe that’s just the echo of Derek’s incessant texts that haven’t stopped since the moment I left.
I nibble on the inside of my cheek, focusing back on the gravel road. My violin is a physical representation of my life story. Of me. I worked my ass off in high school to buy it since my parents wouldn’t, and it’s my heart and soul. It represents my dreams, fears, and failures. Which is why I haven’t taken it out of its case since I ran away last week after our meeting with the record label. When I blew up my life.
It’s the longest I’ve gone without playing since I was five years old. I can’t deny that I’ve been itching to play—it’s probably why I’ve been so grumpy. Added to that, my whole interaction with Kade on Sunday night keeps popping up in my mind.
After he was overtly rude, I took the drink he made to Cricket, but I didn’t tell her that he named it “The Cheater.” Gavin was still at the table, talking to her in hushed tones while her friend looked on. I set it down and then hightailed it to the other tables. Eventually the band played, and I let the man’s decent fiddle playing get me into a rhythm of serving, pretending like my interactions with Kade hadn’t gotten under my skin.
Since then, I’ve tried to ignore him, only speaking to him when necessary. The space has given me time to observe him, to see what kind of person he is. What I’ve found is that while my experience of him has been hot and cold, he’s well-loved by the locals and customers. He and Jake are also very close, always laughing and talking together when the place isn’t swimming with people.
But one thing that’s really stood out to me is his frequent drinking. Not just from the flask he carries—he never turns down a free drink from a customer, either. I’ve also heard a lot more chatter about his accident and overheard locals asking him how he was doing and if he was okay.
While I still don’t know what happened to him, I can’t help but be curious. Maybe my short time in a small town has already rubbed off on me. Soon, I’ll be asking people for the latest gossip. That thought makes me chuckle, because it’s so not like me. But neither is agreeing to work as a ranch hand.
I grip the steering wheel as I pass under a peeling wooden sign that says “Montgomery Family Ranch,” the top of a modest white house coming into view. Lyla wasn’t kidding when she said this place is huge. I’d think this land belongs to multiple houses, not just one, but I don’t see another home around for miles, just gently rolling plains, cows, and corn. A true Texas setting.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this. I’ve never even picked up a shovel. But it’s too late to turn back now.
When I pull up to the house that sits on a small hill, I see a curly-haired woman standing near a black truck. She waves, pointing to the open space next to the vehicle on the wide gravel driveway. I park where she indicated, smiling at her through my windshield.
Not wanting to mess this first impression up, I give myself a quick pep talk before getting out of the car, pulling at the hem of my simple black T-Shirt and tugging up my black jeans. It’s the best I could do for now since I don’t have a lot of ranch-friendly work clothes. Most of what I have in my suitcase are a few casual outfits and my favorite stage clothes in a style my bandmates say reminds them of a more conservative Cher from Clueless . That was one of the nicest things they ever said about me since it’s one of my favorite movies. And my personal style is more ‘90s grunge, or at least it was before last week. Now I’ve been living in jeans, T-shirts, and my pajamas.
“You must be Presley! I’m Blake,” she says cheerfully, holding out her hand.
“That’s me,” I say, subtly wiping my hand against my jeans, not wanting it to be sweaty. Then, I once again find myself partaking in this stupid human custom. I think I hate it because not only do I have to touch someone I don’t know, but I also never know if I’m going to get a firm handshake or a soft one. It’s so weird to go in strong and then their hand is like a wet noodle. Thankfully, Blake’s is firm and short, matching mine perfectly.
She tucks a curl of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear then places her hands on her round hips, ones that rival mine. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Lyla’s been texting me a bunch, telling me how great you are and reiterating how upset she was to kick you out. She wanted me to tell you she’s sorry again.”
I let out a sigh. “She’s sweet, but there’s no reason for her to feel bad. And I think she’s told me she’s sorry at least a million times by now. Among other things,” I add, thinking of the tangents that girl can go on.
Blake laughs, the sound light and almost comforting. “Lyla is a total chatterbox.”
“That’s an understatement,” I say dryly. My eyes widen when I realize I’ve said that out loud.
But before I can get too embarrassed, Blake chuckles again. “I like you already, Presley. It’s nice when people say what they’re thinking.”
I stick my hands in my pockets and smile at her. I want to say I normally don’t, but maybe my earlier observation was right, and this town has rubbed off on me. Or maybe the change is because I’ve completely uprooted my life and now I’m a bartender and soon-to-be ranch hand instead of an up-and-coming star fiddle player.
That same feeling of an anxiety attack coils in me, like a jack-in-the-box ready to pop open. Since I’m not going to pull my calming inhaler out in front of Blake, I list off random items in my head. Happy days, birds, teddy bear, fan, fork —such a funny word, fork .
“You okay?” Blake asks.
I look into her brown eyes, ones that remind me of light roast coffee, and thankfully find no judgment in them. Gosh, I can’t believe I did the quiet staring thing again . I wonder if Lyla warned her about me being so awkward.
“Yeah, I was just wondering why you’d want to hire someone with no ranch experience.” My statement is partially true, because even with what Lyla told me, it doesn’t make any sense.
Blake’s round face is sunny as she says, “As long as you don’t mind working hard and getting your hands dirty, you can do this work. The only thing I’m concerned about”—she looks at my feet—“are those tennis shoes. We’ll need to get you boots for working, especially around the animals.”
I look at my feet then back up to her eyes. Despite what my shitty ex-boyfriend would say, I don’t mind working hard. And I can handle being dirty, even if it’s not my favorite. That’s why hot showers exist.
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I voice to Blake. “And I can get new shoes.”
She grins. “I’m sure we can find you a pair of boots around here, and I didn’t think the work would phase you. Gavin said from what he’s seen at Night Hawk, you’ll be just fine here. It might even be easier since you don’t have to deal with town gossip or people who drink too much.”
My stomach churns a bit at the mention of Gavin. I knew this town would talk about me, but it’s one thing to think it and another to hear they actually are. “You know Gavin?”
Surprise colors her features for a second, like I should know that. “You could say that.” She smirks. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
I nod, curious if Gavin is like her brother or something. But they don’t look related, so that would mean she’s…his girlfriend? I wonder if she knows about the situation with Cricket the other night. I get the urge to tell her, but for all I know, Cricket and Gavin don’t even have a past, and they were just talking about Kade.
Oh god, I hope Blake’s not friends with Kade then, too. I’d have to see him even more than I already do at Night Hawk. Jake said he’s decided to pick up more shifts, which means I’m going to have to deal with his antics more than just on the weekends. I exhale a breath and try to focus on things that do not involve the sexy cowboy I hardly know, like making a good impression with Blake. If Kade comes here often, I’ll just have to deal with it like an adult.
“Sounds good,” I finally say.
“Great!” She motions for me to follow, and I fall in step beside her. Just like the Delgados’ ranch, it’s quiet out here. The Texas plains provide only the sounds of nature with the occasional moo of a cow in the distance. But as we get closer to a big red barn, I hear men talking and the sound of hammers and other tools.
“We’re in the process of remodeling this barn,” Blake says, raising her voice. “This one hasn’t been used for the last couple of years. Nothing too major, but it can get kind of noisy. We’re in crunch mode since we’ve got about ten horses coming soon.”
I gape at her. “Ten?”
She nods. “We’ll get more next month, but we’re going to get them ready in batches. Can’t have a dude ranch without safe trail horses.”
“I don’t know much about dude ranches, but that sounds like a must-have.”
“Have you ever been to a ranch?” she asks.
“Until last week? No.”
Blake opens a sliding door to the big red barn, and the noises get louder. “Are you from Texas?”
“Born and raised.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Lynn. Do you know it?”
“It’s outside the city, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s kind of small but not nearly as small as this place.”
She snickers. “Nothing is as small as Randall. At least it feels like it sometimes.” She pauses for a second and turns to appraise me. “You’ve really never been to a ranch until last week?”
“I really haven’t.”
“That feels so odd to me since this is mostly all I’ve ever known. Minus five years in Tennessee.” She says the last part almost sadly.
I lick my lips. “Like I said, maybe I’m not the best person to hire. Aren’t ranch hands supposed to know ranches? ”
Blake waves me off, a smile returning to her face. “You’ll learn. And I’m sure Lyla told you, but I had someone lined up, and they fell through. They got a better-paying job at a dude ranch in Montana. I know we’re not offering much, but the living quarters aren’t bad, and you’re more than welcome to daily breakfast and lunch up at the house.”
I want to tell Blake that even though I’ve been questioning her choice to hire me, nothing she could say would make me leave. She told me over the phone I’d be making minimum wage, but if I’m not paying rent, I’m not going to complain. And the tips at Night Hawk have been good. I’ve made more at the bar than at a lot of the gigs we played, which surprised me for such a small town.
“Sounds great,” I say. Because while this isn’t the work I’d pick for myself, I’ve been enjoying the quiet of the Delgados’ ranch. And when people aren’t hammering, I’m sure this place is peaceful. Maybe even too peaceful.
For the next hour, Blake shows me around until my feet begin to hurt from all the walking. They have three barns: the one that houses their current horses, the one being remodeled, and one that stores supplies and hay. There’s also a big shed close to the main house and guest house where they keep ATVs and other things, which is being reorganized. She said she’d eventually take me out on one of the ATVs and show me more of the property.
By the time we get to the hands’ quarters, I’m feeling a little better about my choice to come here. While I haven’t done any work yet, Blake’s made me believe that I can do what she’ll be asking of me. I really like the ranch, and everyone I’ve been introduced to has been just like most people I’ve met since I arrived here: nice.
Blake holds out her arms, giving her best impression of Vanna White. “This is where you’ll be staying.” She grins. “Just painted it myself.”
I study the white rectangular building with green shutters and multiple doors that indeed has a fresh coat of paint. It reminds me of pictures I’ve seen of kids’ summer camp quarters except a bit larger. A long porch that looks freshly painted connects all the doors—I count eight of them. We walk up a few steps, and Blake goes to the one in the middle.
“This is the main living area,” she says as she opens the door. “Right now, you’re the only one here—the rest of our workers live in town, so they don’t need the space. Eventually, guests will stay here, and then we may move you or keep you here depending on how many people we get. Hopefully, we sell out.” She chuckles.
I feel a warmth in my stomach as I realize she’s already considering the possibility of me staying for an extended period, to the point where she’d have to think about my accommodations when they have guests. And from what I understand, that won’t be for another six months or more. Though I shouldn’t be surprised by her thoughtfulness—over the last hour, I’ve learned that Blake really cares about this place and the people here.
We’ve only chatted about little things, like how much she likes my hair and how she’s always wanted to get a tattoo but her dad would kill her. I’ve been able to avoid questions that feel too personal, though I think she can tell I’m not really one to dump my life story on just anyone.
At least not like some of the people I’ve met at Night Hawk. The other night, I listened to a man named Jim tell me about how he spent all his money at the race track last week and his wife kicked him out for the night. He even started talking about the bunions on his feet until Jake saved me.
“The TV doesn’t work yet,” she says as we stand in the middle of the room, “but Gavin said he can fix it for you.”
I press my lips together when I see the old boxy TV, the kind from the ‘80s and ‘90s. I’m not really a TV watcher, so that’s not a problem.
I follow her as she strides to a small kitchen area with a fridge. “We don’t have the gas hooked up yet for the stove, but we can get you a hot plate if you plan to do any cooking. But the microwave and the fridge work.”
“I’m not much of a chef, so the microwave is fine for now.”
“As I mentioned before, we provide breakfast and lunch. If you need dinner, June makes enough food that you could come up to the house and eat whenever you want. Honestly, if you don’t, she’ll bring you food anyway. That’s the kind of family the Montgomerys are.”
I purse my lips after hearing her statement. She’s done that a few times, referred to the Montgomerys like they aren’t her family. “June’s your grandma?” I ask, finally curious enough to voice my questions. “Or does she work here?”
Blake crosses her arms over her chest and faces me. “Did Lyla not tell you anything about this place? I would have thought she’d give you all the history and the family trees of every person in Randall.”
I shake my head. “It never came up.”
Blake stares at me as if something has finally clicked in her mind. “Gavin is my boyfriend, and this is his ranch. I’m not a Montgomery.” She says the last part playfully, which leads me to believe she will eventually be one.
I fiddle with the silver ring on my finger as I look into her friendly eyes. When I replay the information she just gave me, my blood goes cold. Oh no…
“This isn’t your ranch?” I ask, my voice high and uneven.
Blake stuffs her hands in her pockets. “It isn’t.”
“Don’t say that, Blake. This is your dude ranch.”
My head turns toward the haughty male voice, and I can’t stop the full-blown shiver that races up my spine. Kade strides in from an open bedroom door, a grin stretched across his face as he meets my eyes. Under his attention, I swear my stomach feels as if it’s going to drop right onto the floor, like I’m on one of those scary drop rides at a carnival .
“You know that’s not true,” Blake replies, disappointment clear in her words though I can tell she’s trying to keep a smile on her face as she says it.
He shrugs, his hazel eyes not leaving mine. “What are you doing here, Lemon?”
“Lemon?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
He clucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Lime is a silly nickname. Figured Lemon has a better ring to it.”
I try to keep the blush off my cheeks, but I fail. My skin burns as several questions spark in my mind, like: Why does he have to keep bringing up the back-room incident? And why give me this nickname at all? Does he think I’m sour? But I don’t ask anything, because while I’m curious, I don’t want to know the answers. I also don’t want to further my embarrassment.
Blake’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I didn’t know you were down here, Kade.”
Kade finally stops looking at me, hazel eyes meeting hers with a half smile. “Gavin told me a new hire was going to be staying here and asked me to make sure the bed didn’t squeak.”
A short and awkward laugh leaves Blake’s lips. “Such a funny guy today.”
“You know me, Blakey girl. I’m full of fun times and laughter.”
Blake’s body language swiftly changes at his words, her sunny demeanor from before now cloudy and dull, face crestfallen and shoulders tense. I stand there, unsure of what to do, as the pair silently stares at each other. A silent conversation that doesn’t look pleasant passes between them. Eventually, Blake tips her chin down, and I think I see tears shining in her eyes.
Unable to handle the tension, I clear my throat. “I can leave.”
Blake focuses on me and blinks a few times. Yeah, those were tears. “No, that’s not necessary. Kade was just leaving.”
Kade’s narrowed gaze stays frozen on Blake’s profile. But after a long moment, his face visibly softens, the furrow of his brow relaxing and shoulders drooping. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going through his mind: regret. A whole lot of it. But instead of addressing it, he seems to shake it off, his attention moving back to me.
A flirty grin pops back on his lips as he sticks his hands in his jean pockets. “You’re the new ranch hand, Lemon?”
“My name is Presley.”
He chuckles. “Right. I guess we’ll be spending a lot more time together.” His eyes rove over my body like they had that first night outside of Night Hawk until they land on my sneakers. “You sure you’re up to this job, Presley?” he asks, popping the P of my name.
I fight the urge to hide my body from his gaze and push my shoulders back a bit. I’m not sure that I can handle this job, but I’m also not going to let Kade make me squirm. If he wants to be a jerk, then I’m going to be a jerk back.
I turn to Blake, and her lips tip up as if she’s encouraging me to say yes. I take in a breath and meet Kade’s hazel eyes again. That boyish glint I saw last night before the whole Cricket situation is back.
“I am, Kade .” I make sure I punctuate the K and D of his name.
He rocks on the balls of his feet and hums. “I guess we’ll see about that. Chores start at five-thirty tomorrow.”
I try not to flinch at the time. I’ve never been a morning person, and I feel like he knows that. It’s going to suck when I work at Night Hawk in the evenings. I guess I’m going to have to say goodbye to sleep most nights. But if Kade and Gavin can do it, I can, too, right?
“You don’t have to get up that early, Presley,” Blake interjects. “Kade is just yanking your chain.”
He smirks. “I wasn’t, actually. Nobody gets special treatment around here.” The way he says it makes me think it carries a double meaning.
“Kade,” Blake tries again, frustration building in her voice .
“It’s okay, really,” I say, not wanting to see another fight in front of me. I’ve witnessed enough of Kade’s hot-and-cold antics already. “I can wake up then.”
Kade looks like a fox in the henhouse. “Make sure you set at least three alarms.” He tips his hat. “See you later, Lemon.” Then he walks out the door, whistling what sounds like “Hurricane” by Luke Combs.
When I’m pretty sure he’s gone, Blake takes a step toward me. “I’m so sorry, Presley. I don’t—I’m not sure why he was like that. Kade must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” She tries to be playful, but there’s worry behind her words.
I try my best to comfort her. “It’s alright.”
She closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh. It reminds me of when I’m trying to stop an anxiety attack. Whatever just happened between her and Kade has done a number on her.
After another few breaths, she opens her eyes and attempts a smile. “Are you sure you want to work here after that?” Her tone is semi-teasing, but I know she’s afraid I’ll say no.
“If you’ll have me. I still don’t know if I’ll be good at it, but—” I scan the room, taking a closer look. The living room isn’t that large, but the sage-painted walls and beige couches and chairs give it a homey sort of feel. I haven’t seen the bedroom yet, but I’m sure it’s fine. A bed is a bed as far as I’m concerned. “I think I’d like to try.”
Blake claps her hands together excitedly. “That’s great, Presley! I know you’re going to do just fine here. I mean, you can handle Kade. If you can do that, you can do anything.” She laughs.
I want to tell her I’m not sure I can, but I hold my tongue because regardless of if I want to be around Kade or not, I do need a place to live. “I’ll sure try.”
Her brown eyes light up, and she holds out her hand. “Welcome to the Montgomery Family Ranch, Presley. I hope you’ll stay awhile. ”
Before the words can really sink in, I’m shaking her hand again. But this time, I find that it’s not as awkward.