Chapter 13
Counting Stars - OneRepublic
Cassidy
Iwas nervous. Stupid because I’d been on the ranch before.
I just hadn’t spent time with Gunner on the ranch.
Not just me and him, anyway. We were going through some of the details that I’d envisaged for the kids’ camp.
Lucas was with me, but he was spending the time with Bertie and Mikey, one of the stable hands, learning how to groom Bertie’s pony.
We wanted to see if he liked the horses and if it would be a good fit for him until Ruth started working on the ranch.
It seemed her current employer was being a stickler about her notice period.
It was decided because of that, if today went okay, Lucas would come to the ranch whenever she was working.
Gunner placed a mug of dark, rich coffee on the desk in front of me and flashed a smile. “Creamer no sugar.”
“Thank you.” We were in his office on the same side of his desk, close enough that I could smell his subtle cologne mixed with leather and…man. A very manly man and it was distracting in a way I refused to acknowledge. “What’s the plan for today?”
He took a seat next to me, resting his ankle on his opposite knee, fingers steepled under his chin. The epitome of cool and chilled. Annoyingly so. Three years ago, that same casual confidence had both attracted and infuriated me. Now it just made me wary.
“We need to get a full picture of your vision and decide how we move forward.”
The word ‘vision’ triggered an echo of that disastrous night—him dismissing my ‘city vision’ for ranch kids.
I pushed the memory aside and opened my purse, taking out a folder that had everything I’d prepared.
Everything that I’d spent hours poring over and collating about similar camps and institutes across the country.
Taking out the contents, I spread it across the desk.
“These are all examples of existing camps. This one,” I pointed at the images I’d printed, “in Michigan is the one I think we could base the Last Creek model on. It’s mainly for terminally ill kids but we could apply the same principles.”
Gunner picked up the paper and started to read it.
My nerves spiked again because ultimately this was his decision.
They were his horses. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Here I was again, presenting ideas about helping ranch kids to the man who’d once told me I couldn’t understand them.
It felt like an age watching him, holding my breath to the point that my lungs started to burn.
When I couldn’t hold it any longer I slowly exhaled.
“Well?”
Gunner looked up at me and his shining eyes stunned me as he swallowed.
The hardness I remembered from that night was gone, replaced by something that made my chest tight.
“Those poor kids.” He shook his head. “Call me selfish but I’m not sure I could work with terminal kids, knowing that…
” Blowing out a ragged breath, he placed the piece of paper back on the pile and looked at me.
Not with doubt, but with something deeper.
“It’s a great model, I agree. If anyone can do this,” he added softly, “it’s you. ”
I placed a hand against my chest, the emotion he was showing felt like it was pushing its way into my heart.
Making it swell to the point of pain. This wasn’t the dismissive man who’d walked away from our date.
This was someone else entirely. He was showing belief in me and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
“I should have picked something else,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Gunner shook his head. “No, this is perfect. It’s the idea of losing Bertie or Billy like that, it, well,” he blew out his cheeks, “makes me feel sick.”
“I know it’s a terrible thought. Any child who has to go through that, any parent that has to go through that.”
We both fell silent for a beat, the air filled with a palpable fear. Gunner eventually cleared his throat and picked up the rest of the papers, flicking through them.
“I like this,” he said pointing at the outside movie theater. “We could easily set that up. I know a guy in Clementine Hill who has all the gear. He hires it out so if we could come up with some sort of schedule in advance then we could be sure to have it.”
I nodded. “Or maybe we could do a crowd fund to buy our own equipment. In fact, I was thinking a crowd fund would be great anyway.”
“Nash looked into it and thinks we can get a whole load of grants, from local government and businesses.” He looked sideways at me. “Crowd funding might be a good idea, though,” he muttered.
“Gee, thanks.” I flounced back in my seat. “Your belief in my ideas is much appreciated.”
His gaze shot to mine. “What’s with the attitude?”
“I don’t have an attitude.” I had an attitude because of his damn attitude.
“You do. What did I say?”
“That crowd funding might be a good idea. It’s a great idea.”
Gunner sighed heavily, with more than a hint of sarcasm in it when he slapped on a smile. “Wow, Cassidy, the idea of crowd funding is an absolutely great idea.”
“There’s no need to be so caustic.”
“Ooh big words, Cassidy, did you think I wouldn’t know what it meant?”
My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, mainly to stop me poking him or worse. “I know you’re not stupid, Gunner. I know you know big words like egotistical, narcissistic, conceited, egocentric.”
He smirked. “I think you forgot a bigger one like, Gunner’s dick.”
“You’re a dick, and anyway,” I scoffed, “I doubt it’s that big, you were blessed with a huge head, so I doubt you’d get a dick to match.”
He let out a loud roar of laughter and shook his head. “How little you know.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping low. “But you only have to say the word.”
“Yeah and that word would be one I’m too ladylike to repeat.” I reached for the file and the papers, but Gunner slapped his hand down on top of mine.”
“Just stop.”
“No, if you can’t be polite then I don’t want to stay here.” I tugged at my hand, but he wouldn’t let it go. “Get off me and give me my papers back.”
Lifting his hand from mine he grabbed the arms of my chair and swiveled me to face him. He leaned in, closer to me. “I’m sorry that you think I’m a dick, but we need to do this. If we can’t even have an initial meeting then how do you envisage the whole damn thing working?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I’ll pass it on to someone else.”
“No, you won’t, Cassidy. This was your idea and contrary to what you think, I believe it’s a good one.
One that you deserve to see through.” He scrubbed at his stubble, his posture rising and falling slowly as he exhaled.
“I have to be involved because these are my horses and call me egotistical, narcissistic and what was the other one?”
“Other two. Conceited and egocentric.”
“Yeah, call me those, too, but no one else will be able to help you pull this off. No one else will know what will help those kids the same way I will.’
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes because now was not the time to be childish. I chose to clear my throat instead, because everyone knows a throat clear says everything.
Pushing his chair back, he linked his fingers over his stomach.
“When my mom died, I was nine years old. The age when you still need your mom’s hugs, her touch, her soft words, her reading me a bedtime story.
” He scoffed. “Although, that one was getting to be less needed. The point is, when she was killed my whole world fell apart. I had Nash and Wilder, but they weren’t her.
” He shrugged. “My dad was less than hopeless. Always had been with the emotional stuff. So, the only thing that got me through it, still gets me through it, are the horses.”
I slumped back in my chair, a weight pushing against my chest as I saw my own grief mirrored in Gunner’s eyes. The kids I’d fostered helped me, the kids I taught still helped me, but that crippling pain and realization that she wasn’t coming back was always with me. Just like it was with him.
“Horses,” Gunner continued, “are non-judgmental, you see. So, any shit I pulled because I was hurting, they never told me what a dick I was and that I’d never amount to anything if I didn’t get a fucking grip.
” He paused and drew in a slow breath, pressing his hand down onto the desk, like he was pushing down all his emotions and thoughts.
“They picked up on my moods and were just quiet and soothing while I cried and raged.”
Footsteps outside came closer but no one came to the office, and seconds later they walked away. Something metal clanked on the ground, like a bucket or something, and then I heard water running followed by the ringing sound of water on vibrating metal.
Gunner glanced to the side, to the window, and sighed. “This ranch, this land, those horses have probably saved all of us in some way or another.” He barked out a laugh. “Apart from my father, seems it wasn’t quite such a healing environment for him.”
“It must have been hard for all of you, finding out how he’d stolen from you over the years.” When he raised an eyebrow I felt my cheeks burn up. “It was all in the local newspaper, Lily didn’t tell me or anything.”
“Oh, I know it was common knowledge and you’re her best friend, so I would expect Lily to tell you. You know that he hid the fact that mom had signed the lavender farm over to Shane and Felicia?”
“No. They didn’t report that.” Jeez the man was a real piece of work.
“Yeah, he hid the deeds that mom had signed over to them as a thank you for their loyalty. Hid her will, too, which left him nothing. Hence why every penny he took from this place was theft. He was a shit dad anyway. You know he was the one who forced Lily to leave town all those years ago?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I did. She told me all about it.” When Lily first came back to town and we became friends, Nash was more than hostile to her. Thank god they’d managed to get through that and get their happy ending.
“So, you see why I needed the horses.” His laugh was hollow. “Anyway, you ready to get back to this?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s organize a kids’ camp.”
When he turned back to his desk and picked up a pad and pen, I watched him for a moment.
After that first date, I’d written him off as just another stubborn rancher who thought he knew better than everyone else.
Who’d dismissed my ideas without really hearing them.
But this Gunner, the one who understood exactly why kids might need more than just traditional ranch life, who’d found his own healing with these horses - was someone entirely different.
Or maybe he’d been there all along, and I’d been too quick to judge after that disaster of a first date.