Chapter 16 Everett #2
“I went out there yesterday. It’s quiet, Ev. Miss Celia said it hasn’t been this quiet for years. Decades, even. Ellison had leftovers at the end of the day—that doesn’t happen. It’s never happened, until now.”
“It was pretty quiet,” I agree. “What are you plotting?”
“Angie and I were talking…”
“Go on.”
“We want to make the ranch a destination,” she says, emphasising the last word. “The ranches. Ours, and the Fishers’. I mean, we already cooperate on a lot. It’s not like they’re competition.”
It’s true enough. We’re a cattle ranch, where the Fishers’ land is almost more of a farm in the traditional sense, and they specialise in agriculture and crops.
With neighbouring land, and families who have been friends for decades, we complement rather than compete.
We’ve always helped each other out. It’s rare, but that’s how it’s always been.
“Yeah, so…”
“Glamping.”
“Glamping?”
“Glam camping. It’s a trend, it’s all over the internet.
We could host parties—maybe even weddings.
Everett, if we can get people out here to the ranch—ranches—we could get a minibus, have one of the ranch hands drive it into town a couple times a day for the guests.
We can boost Skillett. Put it back on the map.
Who knows what businesses might want to move in?
Angie said Mick has a great plot right on the fence line that would be great for some cabins, and we could look into those fancy tents too—”
“Yurts, Mom. They’re called yurts.”
“What?”
“The fancy tents. They’re yurts.”
“Well, we could look into yurts. What do you think, Ev?”
Mom is almost pleading with me. Her hands are clasped together, pushed across the desk towards me as she leans forward, face earnest. For a second, I wonder if she thinks I’m about to shoot her down, tell her it’s an awful idea.
Forget that Mom owns the ranch and can do whatever she damn well pleases. She still defers to me half the time.
“I think… it could work. We’d need more people. We’d need…” I break off with a breathy laugh. My mind is already racing, putting together the long list of everything we’ll need to do and source and prepare for a project like this. “We’d need a lot. It’s not gonna be an easy job to set this up.”
“Angie and Mick are in. They want in on this. We use their land and ours. Their people, too.”
“Okay, well, that makes some things easier. Some things, not so much,” I say.
We’ve never had trouble with the Fishers, and I don’t anticipate any now, but I’ve heard far too many horror stories about neighbouring ranches and families going into business together and somebody getting burned.
On top of everything else, I’ll be making sure we have contracts drawn up.
“And we’ll probably need to revisit that marketing budget, too. ”
“Oh, shoot. Yeah, we will.”
“And if we’re offering camping—outside of the Hamlet, with tents and shit—we’re gonna need to think about other facilities we need, too.”
“Electricity.”
“Running water. Showers. Restrooms. Dedicated grilling areas? We need to make sure no one’s starting a wildfire out here with reckless fire practice.”
“It’s gonna be a lot, isn’t it?” Mom looks dejected.
“It is,” I agree. “But I think we can do it.”
“You’re in?”
“I’m in, Mom.” I check the watch on my wrist and curse inwardly.
Rain is still hammering at the windows, and I’m supposed to call Ruth in five minutes.
My cabin is ten minutes away from the main house.
Longer, if I have to take a circuitous route because of the rain.
“But I gotta run. I’ll check out the horse situation in the morning and call Ross, and then we’ll sit down with this tomorrow, okay?
Maybe Ms Angie or Mick could join us? Jody, too. ”
“Love you, honey. Drive home safe in the rain, okay?”
“Love you too, Mom.” I stand and lean across her desk, swiping my water and muffin and dropping a kiss to the top of her head before hauling ass out the door and straight to my truck.
By the time I get back to my cabin, the truck is more mud-brown than rusted red, but I rush inside, dump my muffin on the kitchen counter, and immediately hit Ruth’s contact card as I head for my bedroom.
She answers with an easy smile and immediately, I feel calmer.
“Hey, Cowboy,” she says, and then frowns when she notices my soaked attire. “Did you fall into the creek?”
A harsher-than-intended laugh escapes me.
“No, it’s just raining. Got caught in it.
Then got caught up talking to Mom. Actually,” I say, rubbing a towel over my hair with one hand and propping my phone on my dresser with the other, so I can unbutton my shirt, “maybe I could use some of your expertise while you’re here in a couple days? ”
“I’m all yours, Cowboy. Use me as you wish.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, baby girl,” I say lowly. Don’t fucking tempt me. Ruth’s eyes flare, visible even through the small screen, and I have to take a deliberate, calming breath before this call turns into something very different to what I intended.
“So, are you ready? Dinner and a movie?”
“I’m wearing my skimpiest pyjamas,” Ruth says dryly with a wry smile, and then a giggle. “Can’t you tell?”
The sharpness of her accent sends a wave of warmth crashing over me.
She’s wearing that same maroon set she wore during our first FaceTime call.
It looks silky, and it consists of a short-sleeved button-down shirt.
From the way her phone is propped up in front of her, I can see that the bottom half of the set is matching shorts, and she’s sat cross-legged on her grey sofa, a steaming bowl of something on a small tray beside her.
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” I say, winking at the camera. I tug a plain white tee over my head and then swap my damp jeans for a pair of grey sweats, before making my way back to the kitchen. “Sorry, I’m a little behind, I’m gonna heat up some of that pasta we made the other night.”
I pull the Tupperware from the fridge and decant its contents into a bowl, before shoving it into the microwave.
When it’s done, I carry the bowl, my muffin, my water bottle, and a can of Mountain Dew to the sofa.
I only have two hands, though, and that means the water bottle is tucked under one arm, the drink can is in one pocket, and my phone—with Ruth’s call still in progress—is in the other.
I can hear her making noises and saying things like “No, don’t put me in the pocket!
” and “Ugh, your pocket is full of lint” even as I pull my phone free again.
“What are we watching? And what are you eating?” I ask. I unload the rest of my goods onto the coffee table, and I use the usual bull ornament to prop my phone in front of me, adjusting the angle so Ruth can see me.
“Spaghetti,” Ruth answers, pausing to hold her bowl at an angle so I can see the red-covered noodles inside. “Sundried tomato and chilli sauce, with chicken and bacon.”
My mouth waters at the thought.
“Can we cook that one next?” I shove a forkful of cheesy broccoli pasta into my mouth and chew hurriedly, swallowing before I continue. “That sounds great.”
“We can cook it when I’m there in a couple of days, if you want.”
“Yes, please.”
Ruth points a remote control at the TV, just past the side of her phone.
“Ready for the movie?” she asks.
“Born ready,” I say. “What are we watching?”
“Legally Blonde,” Ruth says with a smug smile, and I bite back a groan. It sounds just like the kind of girly rom-com my sister might watch, and not at all like something I’d enjoy. But for Ruth, I’m going to man the fuck up and watch it, so I search every streaming station I have until I find it.
“You ready?”
I nod.
“Okay. Three. Two. One.” Ruth counts down and we press play at the same time. I see the intro sequence to the movie reflect in the lenses of her glasses, just a split second out of time with the movie playing on my own TV.
“This is my favourite,” Ruth says over the intro music with a happy sigh. She pushes her bowl out of view and tugs a fuzzy blanket up around her shoulders, nestling into the corner of the sofa with a peaceful smile on her lips.
I’ll admit it: I spend more of the movie watching Ruth than the TV. I love the way she still laughs at every joke, even though she’s apparently seen it hundreds of times. I love the way she still gasps, frowns, smiles through every twist and turn in the plot like she has no idea what’s coming.
And, okay, fine. I enjoyed it, too. I didn’t expect to, but the peppy blonde underdog caught me, and I found myself rooting for her unexpectedly. It’s a surprisingly enjoyable movie, and I see why Ruth loves it so much.
Watching her watch it only makes me miss her more. The sound of her laugh is high and tinny through the speakers of my phone, and the vivid flashback to hearing that laugh from the passenger seat of my truck damn near knocks me sideways.
It’s not just my hormones falling for this woman anymore. I don’t think it ever has been. But now I know for damn sure: it’s my heart, too.