Chapter 9
Iemerge from the shower, muscles still aching despite my blasting them with scalding water, and take in the chaos that is the bedroom.
My suitcase looks like a bomb that detonated, clothes strewn over the floor and draped across every surface.
The bed is equally bad, a mess of blankets and comforters I cocoon in when it gets cold, then kick off when I inevitably get overheated from sleeping under such a thick pile.
I should tidy things up, but when I think about crouching or bending, I want to cry. I’m too damn sore.
Besides, where would I put things? I didn’t think about it much when I first arrived, but now that I’ve been here for almost a week, it’s set in that this was my grandma’s bedroom.
There’s a closet and a dresser that would logically be good places to unpack my clothing, but I haven’t worked up the nerve to open them.
I don’t know if I have the right to go through her things, and I don’t feel comfortable moving them to make space for myself.
It’s silly. In her will, she gave me this house and pretty much everything inside. Anything that she willed to someone else has already been given away. But every time I go to open the closet doors, I freeze.
I haven’t earned the right to make changes.
The problem is, with Grandma gone, I don’t know how I ever will. Busting my ass around the ranch hasn’t been enough to assuage my guilty conscience yet.
I need to get ready for dinner, but the prospect of picking out something to wear, making myself presentable, and walking over to the dining hall feels insurmountable. The bed beckons my aching, exhausted body, even as my stomach growls.
Maybe if I lie down for a bit, I’ll get enough energy to get up and be there for the tail end of dinner.
Even though my chances of getting up after I lie down are slim to none, the siren call of rest is too strong to resist. Releasing a pathetic series of yelps and hisses of pain, I ease down onto the bed, uncaring that I’m still wrapped in a towel with my damp hair soaking into the pillowcase.
My eyes drift shut, but the sleep I expected doesn’t come.
No, apparently it’s time for all the emotions I’ve shoved to the side so I can keep functioning to make themselves known. Great.
I blink and tears flow down my cheeks in a seemingly endless stream. It’s hard to even put a specific thought or dominant feeling to the outpouring. There’s just so much.
My chest rises and falls in harsh, shuddering breaths as I quietly sob.
I should’ve known better than to give myself even a moment of rest. If I keep moving, there’s no time to break down.
That’s why instead of being sad and angry when I lost my job, I dove headfirst into a bender of questionable hookups and shitty boyfriends.
It’s why I packed up my entire life to come to a ranch I haven’t been to since I was six.
And it’s why I’ve stubbornly pushed to prove myself to Cal.
I don’t know how much time passes as I cry, the cacophony of grief, self-doubt, shame, frustration, and exhaustion drowning everything else out.
That is until I hear a distant knock.
“Go away,” I croak, wincing as I roll over onto my side and curl up, pressing a pillow over my head in a feeble attempt to block the world out.
Whoever is out there—probably Cal coming to see if I’m ready to quit and admit he was right and I’m not meant to be here—is persistent. There’s another knock. Then another, and the muffled sound of someone calling my name.
Fueled by frustration, I manage to pull myself out of bed, hobbling over to the window and throwing it open.
“What do you want?” I shout, not bothering to look at who is out there before I speak. Odds are it’s Cal.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you, Miss Belle.”
Shit, it’s August. I look down to see him giving me a sheepish smile.
“Oh! No, uh, it’s okay. I thought you were someone else…”
He chuckles. “Cal?”
“Who else likes to drag me out of the house?” I ask drolly, unable to keep some of the annoyance I feel when I think about that particular cow man out of my tone.
Any warmth I felt toward Cal after his kindness when he realized I’m afraid of horses drained out of me along with my frustrated tears. He has the capacity to be nice, but he rarely uses it with me. Instead, he’s been putting me through hell, and I’m so damn tired.
“Well, don’t worry, I won’t drag you anywhere.
Just wanted to stop by because I didn’t see you at dinner.
” He holds up a to-go container. “Didn’t want you to go hungry, and figured you haven’t been able to get into town to stock up on groceries with your car still in the shop.
I’ll leave this on your porch if you’re not up for company right now. ”
Well, shit. I may be exhausted and emotionally drained, but I’m not about to be an asshole to someone who went out of their way for me.
“No! It’s okay. You don’t need to leave. Give me a minute and I’ll be right down.”
August nods, giving me an amiable smile. “Alright then.”
Fighting off the urge to start crying again, I splash some cold water on my face to try to calm my puffy eyes and struggle my way into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that’s seen better days.
When I get downstairs and open the door, I find August sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, idly swiping on his phone.
“Wow, you get a signal out here?”
He looks up, a slight furrow on his brow. “Do you not?”
I let out a weak huff of laughter. “Nope. And the main building’s wi-fi definitely doesn’t make it out here. Not that I’ve really had time to check my socials.”
August’s confusion deepens. “This house should have internet. Dawn used it all the time to stream her favorite K-dramas.”
There’s a surge of surprise and delight inside me, learning this small, unexpected fact about my grandma. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” August nods. “She was a huge fan of Korean reality shows too. We binge-watched a cooking one together. It was pretty good!” His fondness for Dawn shows in the way he smiles at the memory.
“Wow, that’s wild.”
His ears flick. “It is?”
“I guess I assumed that life on the ranch was different. That you wouldn’t have time for cooking competitions. Or really anything besides chores broken up by meals and collapsing from exhaustion at the end of the day.”
August laughs and shakes his head. “We have plenty of time for fun. I take it Cal isn’t giving you much downtime?”
“That’s an understatement,” I say, rubbing my lower back.
“Hmph. We’ll have to rectify that then.” He snaps, remembering something. “Bet the internet got disconnected when Cal was settling things with the house after Dawn passed. If you talk to him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to get it set back up.”
“I doubt that,” I grumble, and August raises a brow at me. “Cal seems determined to make my experience here as grueling as possible. No internet only adds to the harsh effect.”
A strange look crosses August’s face, and he sighs and mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out. “I’ll get it sorted for you.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. You’ve already been so helpful. I don’t want to be an imposition.”
August waves my protests off. “Not an imposition. You’re Dawn’s family, which means it’s no trouble to help you. Just because Cal doesn’t seem to grasp that yet, doesn’t make it any less so.”
“Well, okay. Thank you. If I survive the rest of Cal’s intro to the farm, we’ll have to watch a show together.”
His smile is genuine. “Deal.” August picks up his hat and the box of food and gestures toward the house. “Shall we?”
I nod and lead him inside, kicking the muddy boots I left by the door to the side.
He wipes his hooves off on the doormat, and heads into the kitchen and grabs a plate out of the cabinet, then gets some utensils from the drawer.
He’s obviously spent enough time in Dawn’s kitchen to know his way around.
Watching him, it hits me. What if August and Dawn were more than friends? He seems older than Cal. Maybe he’s even older than I guessed. Or maybe they didn’t care about the age gap. Is that why he’s being so nice to me?
I must not keep the shock off my face, because August tilts his head at me and his ears flick as he sets the plate and utensils down on the kitchen table. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
He frowns. “If you don’t want company, I don’t have to stay.”
“No! Uh, no…I…”
God, this is awkward. Should I ask him outright if they were lovers?
“Shit, is Cal really being that tough on you? I told him to show you around and let you get a sense for the place, not try to scare you away.”
I blink at August, his words hitting me like a slap to the face. “He’s trying to scare me away?”
“I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, he’s been more than hard on you. Is that not why you were looking at me funny?”
“No, I was wondering if you and Dawn were lovers, and if that’s why you’re nice to me.“
August’s eyes go comically wide, but I continue before he can respond.
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve been working myself to the bone trying to prove to Cal I have what it takes to help, to prove to him that this isn’t some silly side quest for me, and he’s been intentionally making things impossible? ”
“I wasn’t… He’s…” August struggles to come up with the right words to explain, but I’m too angry to give him a second to get his thoughts together.
“Goddammit.” I blink back tears of frustration and defeat. “I’m so naive. He said from the start I didn’t belong. Nothing I do will convince him otherwise, will it?”
August shakes his head. “Cal’s stubborn, but even he can see how hard you’re working. I’ll talk some sense into him. Get him to back off with this nonsense.”
“Don’t!” I blurt.
He frowns. “Why not?”
“Because if you do, then it’ll be admitting defeat. I won’t let him beat me.” A fiery, spiteful determination fills me.
“Stars, you’re as obstinate as he is,” August says with a low huff. “Alright. I won’t talk to him. But I won’t sit around ignoring him treating Dawn’s kin like dirt. We need to come up with a plan to get Cal’s head out of his ass that doesn’t involve you running yourself ragged.”
“Because you promised Dawn to take care of me?” I ask, eyes narrowing.
August snorts. “We weren’t lovers, Belle. I didn’t make Dawn any promises.”
“So then why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because it’s common courtesy. You’ve given me no reason not to be nice. You’re earnestly trying to learn how things work here, and I respect the hell out of that.” A softness fills his expression. “And, if that’s not enough, you remind me a little of my daughter.”
“Your daughter? How old are you?” I cover my mouth with my hands after my blunt question escapes my lips before my own sense of common courtesy comes on board.
August chuckles. “I’m in my forties. She’s younger than you, but you both have a certain spark. I could see it the moment I met you—the determination to take life by the horns and make something of it.” There’s so much admiration in August’s tone it makes my chest ache.
“Wish Cal would see that and stop being such a jerk,” I grumble.
“He will. I’m still of the opinion that you should ignore his nonsense until he comes to his senses, but I get not wanting to back down from a challenge.” August inclines his head toward the table. “Sit. Eat. Planning is easier when it’s not on an empty stomach.”
“True.” My stomach growls on cue, and I laugh, sitting down and taking a bite of the vegetable lasagna. “Thank you again for bringing this.”
“My pleasure.”
It doesn’t take me long to demolish the food. When I push the plate away, I let out a sigh. “Alright. You know Cal a hell of a lot better than me. How do I get him to stop hating me?”
August rubs his chin. “Don’t think it’s a matter of hating you. Under any other circumstances, he’d love you.” I scoff, but he continues. “He has his guard up because he’s worried about keeping this place running. He thinks you’re a threat to that.”
“I’m not!” I protest. “I want to help. If he stopped wasting both our time, he’d be able to see that.”
“He’s not going to notice on his own. You’ll have to shove the value you bring to the place in his face.”
“How? I’m trying so hard and he doesn’t care,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.
August hums thoughtfully. A moment later he nods, as if he’s come to a decision. “Ask him to dinner. Not here on the ranch. In town.”
“What?” I scowl. “Like a date? Because I don’t think seduction will work on him.”
A tiny smirk forms on his lips. “Don’t know about that. But that’s not what I’m suggesting. You need to get him in a different headspace. Somewhere you can talk business where he won’t be reminded of how he thinks you don’t fit here. Take him to dinner and tell him your ideas.”
“How do you know I have ideas?”
“Told you, I saw that spark in you. Plus, the boys said you mentioned working at a hotel. I’ve seen you talking to the guests, asking them how they’re liking things. You have ideas. Good ones, I’d wager.”
He’s not wrong. In the moments I’m not struggling to keep up with Cal’s retinue of chores, I’ve noticed dozens of things about this place. Realized how much untapped potential there is, and considered how I could help.
I sigh. “Alright. I’ll ask him to dinner." There’s a surge of anticipatory anxiety and frustration at the mere thought of doing so. "If he blows me off, I’m done playing nice.”
August huffs out a laugh. “I wouldn’t blame you, but he won’t.”
I don’t know how he can be certain, but it’s worth a try. Anything has got to be better than more hard labor.