Chapter 16
Fleur:
Did you take that cute outfit with the yellow stripes with you to hillbilly town?
You mean my dress with the sunflowers that you ruined last summer? No. I didn’t because it has a giant grape juice stain down the front.
Pia:
Told you she wouldn’t forgive you for that.
Fleur:
It wasn’t me!
Pia:
I’ve got screenshots from when you snapped me in a panic about how to soak it properly.
Sarge, you tell me when and where, and I’ll deliver the evidence.
Christ, you’re a savage, P.
Can’t decide if I’m terrified or proud of you.
Sorry, Flower-pot, but you lost all wardrobe-sharing privileges long before you ruined my dress.
Pia:
Remember the necklace incident over winter?
Not to mention the mascara…
Fleur:
Oh my god. What did I ever do to you? I thought we were never going to mention the mascara.
I fucking knew it. You were squirming like a little toad when I hit you up.
“Mom borrowed it.” My ass.
I might be giving my little sister shit, but I’m grinning as I type out the words. Those two hellions are more than enough to keep my parents on their toes. Especially Pia, who is some sort of genius mastermind. I swear that girl knew how to pick every lock in the house before she turned eight after teaching herself by watching videos online.
On the other hand, Fleur is the dreamy, forgetful, cuddly soul who would rather have her head in a book, or the clouds, than be in touch with reality.
I quickly type out a follow up reply.
Got any good alien documentaries for me to watch? I’m gonna need some of the good stuff. Find me something super addictive, please, and thank you. That thing you sent me about the Little Grays was wild. I was up ‘til three a.m. with that one.
This is our thing. My sisters and I have a weakness for all things paranormal conspiracies and alien cover-ups, and they’re forever sending me things to binge watch. I’ve secretly grown to love it as I’ve gotten older. When I moved away from home, at first a pang of worry followed me around that they wouldn’t want anything to do with their older sister once I became an adult in their eyes.
There’s always been a nagging sensation I’ve carried around. An uncomfortable feeling that because we don’t share the same biological father, I’ll somehow end up pressing my nose against the glass to their life, stuck outside looking in on their adorable nuclear family.
Chalk that up to abandonment issues and being the oldest child. A perfect storm of never feeling good enough, while also refusing to be seen as weak for needing anyone’s help.
Hello, Sage, it’s your therapy bills calling.
With ten years between us, it meant that by the time they were hitting their final year of grade school, I was intent on flying away. I was pursuing grand adventures on my own as an adult. We fought hard and loved fiercely while I was still living under the same roof, as three sisters are always going to do. Having Layla virtually live with us gave me not only a best friend, but a sister who was ahead of me by just a year at school. She seemed like a godsend when the twins only ever seemed to piss me off.
Layla arrived with her green eyes and copper curls and became part of our life after moving in next door with her aunt. So, of course, we all adopted Aunt Evie as our own by extension, and until coming here for the summer, I’d been visiting on the regular, more frequently so on Layla’s behalf since her move to Crimson Ridge.
We’ve all found it tough to acclimatize to the cold, hard reality that Aunt Evie doesn’t recognize any of us now. Dementia can officially go fuck itself.
Fleur:
I’m on it.
But… cute cow photos? I’m begging here.
Pia:
Be real. She’s probably not paying the itty bitty baby cows any attention.
I’ve seen your browser history, Sergeant.
Chaps. Cowboys. Daisy Dukes.
Hey… hey. May I remind you, I am here in a professional capacity only.
Also, I’ve already had to threaten Flower-pot to keep outta my wardrobe. Don’t make me tell Mom about your secret collection of ninja stars stashed in the wall behind your bed.
Pia:
Bitch.
You wouldn’t.
Then keep your nose out of my browser history next time I’m home.
That’s a little stalkerish, even for you.
Fleur:
Mom wants me to tell you she misses you btw.
She wanted to video chat, but I said you were busy…
Look at you. Buttering me up by running interference.
Fleur:
You know I love you.
REMEMBER.
Baby cow pics, pretty pleeeeease.
I’ll spam you later.
Gotta run.
Love you both. Stay out of my old room.
They both flood my screen with weird memes that only kids their age would understand, and I swipe out of our group chat.
Even though I’m in my usual position, working from the dining table at the main house, I can tell there’s a whole lot going on outside. It’s a hive of activity around the ranch today, with cattle arriving that will form the mainstay of the herd Beau intends to run here.
I should probably get my ass out there and start documenting everything. Over the past week, since the night of the bonfire, my employer and I have developed a silent understanding that we’re ignoring the obvious. We’re pretending like our conversation and closeness—our admission to one another of just how dire a predicament we’re in—that night on top of Devil’s Peak never happened.
There’s a glimmering light, a soft glow of a candle flickering in the back of my mind that wants to burst into a roaring flame.
Beau told me the truth, but also confirmed the worst in the same breath.
Even though he’s equally as compelled by this thing as I am, there are too many complicated lines and unwritten rules, and I’m guessing external pressures on his part. Enough to firmly put a halt to anything that might happen between us.
I’m no expert, but having a marriage front and center in the public eye to be picked apart must be a nightmare to navigate. An impending divorce is already stressful enough a prospect for regular ol’ couples splitting up, without the opinions and judgments of strangers who have no idea about a single thing in your life. Add in all those snide comments, snarky click-bait gossip sites, a rabid fanbase who all seem to worship the ground that Mandy Spires deigns to trot her designer high heels over, well… I can see why Beau is so quick to shut down any tiny idea that there might be something hanging in the air between us.
Yet again, I’m caught reminding myself that none of it matters anyway, because I’m here for a summer of fun . Moping after my married-and-incredibly-untouchable boss simply isn’t part of my agenda for my time in Crimson Ridge.
Sage Maloney doesn’t pine after a mustache she cannot make the acquaintance of.
No. She dons her bad bitch boots, channels her inner rockstar, and lives her life to the fullest.
When I make my way out into the stifling heat, the ranch feels like it has sprung into high definition technicolor. Until now, she’s been a lazy cat stretching and worshipping the sun. Today, there are horses and cowboys and plumes of dust kicking up beneath the hooves of the animals being brought in by transporter.
It’s riotous and filled with pulse-thrumming excitement.
At first, I hang back from the pens where they’re working. I see a couple of guys—including Beau, who, of course, my eyes are oh, so easily lured to—overlooking the cows lined up nose to tail inside a chute, and others on horseback who are working to split them in different directions once they’re released out into open space.
Layla loosely explained things to me. Apparently, there’s a quarantine process they need to go through first, with vet checks she’s going to carry out after a few weeks. Once that time has passed without any issues cropping up, their passports will be stamped to confirm them as the newest ranch residents. Cow-citizenship to Crimson Ridge proudly confirmed.
After taking some wide-angle footage and photos, capturing the overall feel of the moment, I stroll closer. The ranch is filled with excited anticipation amidst the bellows and rumbles of the cattle. This has got to be a milestone moment for any property, and I’m grinning as I draw nearer to where all the action is happening. I’m honestly really happy for Beau that his dream is unfolding. Every inch of this place has had his influence on it, from where he’s spent days building and mending fences, to the care he’s taken with preparing the stables, to planting trees that will eventually grow to provide cool shelter for the animals in blazing hot summers yet to come.
We might not cross paths much in the course of our days, but his determination to build something special here is obvious, even as an onlooker who is supposed to be doing anything but looking his way.
“Sergeant.” The gruff voice of St?rmand Lane floats across from where he works in tandem with Beau to look at the stock before they’re released. “Make sure to get my best side.” He hits me with a look that sums up his unique brand of wild charm.
Scrunching my nose up, I shrug. “Look. Sometimes in this game, you gotta make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear…”
His chuckle is infectious as he pretends to scowl at me. “Wanna hop on a horse and get out there?” He jerks his chin in the direction of the other riders.
I don’t have a chance to reply because I’m snared by blue-gray eyes and rendered speechless for a moment. Beau looks every inch the hard-worn cowboy in his hat and, holy shit, a pair of chaps to leave me more than a little light-headed. What is it about a cowboy’s wranglers wrapped up in that additional package? Holy hell. It’s like someone decided to make it even more complicated to focus on anything except the way his chaps act as an eye magnet. They draw my gaze straight to a groin and ass I very much wish I could become more familiar with.
Swooning over chaps aside, it’s Beau’s stare that keeps me pinned down in the dust where I stand. It takes a few flutters of my pulse and a hasty swallow to understand a possible reason for his intensity. At first, I can’t figure out why a deep furrow lines his brow, bringing about a kind of sternness in him that makes my pulse skitter around erratically. That’s when I see his attention flicker to the source of what has got him looking my way with such ferocity.
My hat.
As realization settles in, a smile creeps across my face. I haven’t worn this in front of him, yet.
Evidently, the cowboy hat rule is alive and thumping its chest like a caveman in these mountains.
Does he think I’m wearing someone else’s hat?
Preening satisfaction hums a tune in my veins. I shouldn’t feel so damn smug at the immediate and visceral reaction from him, but all things considered, with how torn up I’ve been over this man lately, I’m thinking this is about the best damn purchase I’ve ever made in my life.
“Plenty enough bodies out there already as it is,” he grumbles at Storm. “I’m sure there are better sight lines from here, anyway. You know. For the photos and crap.”
I wrestle back my beaming grin and carry on, busying myself with the job of recording and photographing. All while soaking up the sensation that there are most definitely a pair of eyes that keep drifting my way. God, I really am a terrible person because I’m eating up every second of this powerful feeling.
There’s no denying that I love being watched, and right now, this man is satisfying that craving beyond all measure.
Following the outer rail of the pen, I head in the direction of where the cattle are being split off into smaller herds and secured in separate grazing pastures. It’s such a gorgeous scene—mountains rising up out of the landscape coated in a purplish haze, sun streaming down, and the glossy coats of the horses who have been brought in for today’s work.
I’m in the happiest of zones, caught up in the process of taking some close-up footage when the snort of a horse approaching brings my attention up from the viewfinder for a moment.
“The place looks better with some cows. It was like the pantry was bare before.”
Kayce draws to a stop just beside the railing I’m perched on and leans forward in his saddle.
“Don’t let the boss catch you chit-chatting.” I tease.
“Me? Not a chance. Though, he and Storm are over there gossiping like a pair of clucky old mother hens themselves.”
“Is everything going ok? It’s all going to plan, I mean?” As I gesture in the direction of the cattle, his horse swings closer and stretches its long neck my way, taking a good look at the camera in my hands.
“Yeah, man. Other than it being hot as balls today, everything’s fine.”
“When do you next head off to be flung around on the back of a bronc?” I click off a few rounds of close-ups on the cattle.
“Soon… these next few events are close to Crimson Ridge. This part of the circuit, we don’t have to travel so far, which is great for those of us working part-time and also going in to compete for the prize money.”
“Best of both worlds, huh?” Shielding the camera screen I flick through a few images and love the way the light is hitting perfectly with the mountains fading away in the background. Today’s shots are going to be perfect, I can already hear the cha-ching of cash rolling in with these kinds of visuals adorning the website.
“Honestly, now? I’m grateful to get to do what I do. Maybe at one time years ago, the dream was to shoot for the top, to go after the buckles and the big arenas like Beau and Storm did in their day, but this feels like a good fit.”
“Careful. That sounds a little wise, Wilder.”
He chuckles and scratches at his jaw. “Don’t tell a soul. Folks might get the wrong idea and think I’ve grown up.”
“Wait. Can you… stay right there...” I quickly snap a few photos when he looks out over the scene before us and unknowingly strikes the most perfect of cowboy poses while in the saddle. Who would have thought that my best friend’s loser ex could actually turn his life around? I get on well with Kayce, especially now that he’s quit the drinking and hanging around with bullshit people. He’s got the makings of someone who might actually turn out to be a good one after all.
“Am I the new poster child for this ranch or what?” He lets out a wry laugh.
“I’ll talk to the boss. You polish up half-decent. I’m sure we could use your services in center stage.”
“Beau would much rather be behind the camera than in front of it. He won’t complain.”
“So I hear.” I run off a few more sequences of fluffy cow ears and wet noses.
“Has he shown you any of his work yet?” Kayce asks.
He hasn’t, and I’ve been fighting a silent battle with myself to not rush off and hunt down this secret photography account he has. “I don’t exactly think it’s been a high priority on his to-do list.” Shaking my head, I focus on looking very interested in what I’m doing. Not at all like I’m instantly imagining how panty-melting Beau would look with those calloused hands dexterously handling a camera and lens.
“Fair call. Guy’s got more than enough on his plate. Speaking of, I’ll be seeing you around a bit, kiddo. Even though these cows will be happy enough out here and don’t need much tending to at this time of year, I’ll be dropping by to check on the herd.” He ruefully clicks his tongue. “I’ve also got Teddy to sort out.”
“Why?” My brow creases.
“Oh, Beau didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what, exactly?”
Kayce readjusts himself in the saddle. “Him and Storm, they’re off on a bit of a bromance road trip. Between the two of them, they’re gonna pick up a few horses for the ranch and the therapy program. Reckon it’ll take ‘em about a week or so.”
One of the other cowboys whistles and calls Kayce’s name.
“Gotta go earn my keep, I guess. Watch how a pro does it.” He smirks, and guides his horse back in the direction of the others.
Leaving me to mull over whether it’s a blessing to be free of all things Beau Heartford for the immediate future, or whether it’s going to be impossible to ignore the gaping hole left behind if he isn’t here on this ranch.