5. Zane
Zane
Bliss still hasn’t answered my text from yesterday, and I know I should just drop it. Maybe I should go online and meet my future wife the old-fashioned way—through a dating app.
But there’s something in me that feels like I should pursue this with Bliss because, well, for one, I trust her. And also, it will be a lot easier to live with someone I like and who actually likes Pine Ridge.
I take out my phone and text her again. This will be my last try. And it will probably make me look ridiculously desperate. But now is not the time to worry about that. I need action.
Dad’s threatening to sell off pieces of the ranch so he and Mom can spend some time in Arizona to see if it will help her rheumatoid arthritis.
She’s hoping more time in a dry climate during the winter months will alleviate the arthritis pain.
Pine Ridge has a nice dry climate in the summertime, but in the wintertime, the snow can settle in for weeks at a time, and Mom can be in a lot of pain then.
But if my parents are going to travel, I need Dad to let me buy the ranch.
I’ve had my fair share of disappointments in life—getting a shoulder injury my freshman year as a division one baseball player.
Losing my scholarship because of said injury and not being able to finish veterinary school…
Getting left at the altar by someone I thought I loved.
Not to mention everything else life likes to throw at you.
The one consistent thing has been the ranch. It has all of my love. I’ll do whatever I need to keep it.
Zane: Would you want to come over tonight so we could talk?
I reworded the text five different ways before I finally hit Send. Bliss would probably prefer I get straight to the point.
To my surprise, she responds five minutes later.
Bliss: Yes. I’m not sure what time I’ll be done with work yet.
I pump a fist through the air. She said yes. It’s a step in the right direction.
Zane: That’s fine. I’ll be working around the house today, so just text when you’re heading this way. I’ll grill some steaks.
She texts back a single thumbs-up, nothing more.
But I guess I can’t be picky. She responded, and she’s going to come over. It’ll be fine.
I try to think of a million good arguments for why Bliss should marry me, and hopefully, at least one of them will stick.
My best argument is that I’m free labor.
Although, I don’t know if that will change much if we get married.
I already drop everything to go help Bliss if she and her dad have a bigger project.
And that’s not something I do for everyone in town.
My other great selling point is that I have a hot tub on my back deck with an amazing view. She might not be as persuaded by that as I hope.
Maybe I could promise to barbecue for her every night. As long as she’s happy eating meat every meal…because that’s all I can really cook.
None of these are exactly brilliant reasons to marry me.
I spend the day trying to get my tractor running again, but I find myself checking my phone regularly to see if it’s getting close to dinnertime. At lunchtime, I run into town to grab some drinks to put in the fridge.
By the time Bliss texts me and tells me that she’s on her way, I’ve forgotten every single argument I came up with. My ten-point essay on why she should marry me is completely gone from my mind. I’m going to have to wing it.
I get the steaks out of the fridge and prep them for the grill. I peel and slice some potatoes and take some corn from the fridge.
Moose, my dog, starts barking incessantly, and I know a vehicle has pulled in. He’s better than any new-style alarm system. He always sounds like he’s about to bite someone’s head off or puncture a tire, but he’s a lovable little soul.
I walk out onto the front porch and wait for her to come up to the house. I call off my dog, who’s leaping through the air like a kangaroo, trying to get Bliss’s attention.
Bliss parks her truck next to mine, cracks her window, then climbs out.
She doesn’t even glance at the dog, just continues toward the house while Moose is jumping up and down next to her.
Bliss stops at the bottom of the porch and looks up at me. “I feel like this is a bad idea already.”
“Don’t think that. You haven’t even had a steak yet. Maybe you’re just hungry.”
She finally looks down at Moose, who’s now sitting on the ground, shaking with excitement. She pats him on the head, and he immediately goes back to bouncing like a kangaroo.
Bliss ignores him again until he sits still, and then she turns back and tells him, “Good.”
He doesn’t move, and she just keeps scratching his ears while he sits there.
“He’s a sucker for a good scratch,” I tell her. “Come on inside. Grab something to drink. The steaks are on the grill and will be ready in a couple of minutes.”
“That sounds good. I’m hungry.”
I hear her boots on the porch as she follows me into the house.
I open the door and motion for her to go inside. She pauses for a brief moment before she steps inside and takes her boots off. I watch as she looks around the house with wide eyes, taking in every detail.
“I’ll give you the tour after dinner.”
“Well, we’ll see how dinner goes,” she says as she lines up her boots next to mine at the door. They look like they’re half the size of mine.
She follows me quietly through the living room.
I’ve never considered what my house would look like through someone else’s eyes.
It’s an old farmhouse I’ve slowly been renovating.
The hardwood floors are original. The molding along the ceiling is a testament to a bygone era when they still added detail to things rather than using a commercialized white board as trim.
Not all of the house is original, though.
I’ve added on some bedrooms downstairs and expanded the kitchen.
I lead the way into the kitchen and open the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”
Bliss stays at the edge of the kitchen, careful not to stand too close to me. She hesitates, then steps forward and reaches for a Pepsi from the top shelf in the fridge. “Thanks.”
She takes a quick step backward, putting distance between us again. She cracks the top and takes a sip.
“You’ve been working all day?” I ask, hoping to ease the tension.
“Yeah, I was marking some winter lambs.”
“Who helps you?” I ask. Bliss works with her dad with the cattle on their ranch, but she owns a herd of sheep herself and I know Hubert isn’t a big sheep guy, so that means Bliss handles her stuff mostly by herself.
“I hired two kids from the high school to come hold lambs while I worked them.” She shrugged. “I had to trim some of my bucks’ hooves today, too. I haven’t been too impressed with the genetics on these ones.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. It’d be good to remember not to make her mad.
The woman can flip three-hundred-pound rams around like it’s no big deal.
I’ve seen how she handles them. She’ll grab a sheep under its chin with one hand, and put another on its back hip and pull them against her leg until she has them tipped onto their butt, resting back against her while she holds onto their flailing legs and trims their hooves.
Glancing at her hands, I notice how tan they are, even though it’s not even summer yet. They’re strong, capable hands. She has short nails, but I smile when I see they’re painted light pink. My eyes settle on the back of her left hand.
“What on earth—” I reach for her arm, careful not to bump her hand as I pull it toward me for closer inspection.
“Oh, that? It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tries to laugh it off.
“It doesn’t look good.”
“It got cleaned in the shower tonight.” Her cheeks are flushed, and I release her arm, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. “One of them kicked my hand with the clippers. They flew through the air and cut the back of my other hand.”
“Sheesh. At least let me get you some medicine and a Band-Aid.” I walk to the back of the house before she can reject the offer. I come back with a tube of triple-antibiotic ointment and a bandage.
She’s holding her hand against her chest and eyeing me warily.
“Please,” I say as I hold out my hand for hers.
She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”
“You’re as bad as a toddler. I promise the Band-Aid won’t hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t have a Superman Band-Aid, but if you’re really good, you can have a chocolate.”
Bliss laughs abruptly and holds out her hand. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no big deal.” I spread the ointment on the cut. “This looks like it could have used some stitches.”
She nods. “I didn’t want to have to drive into Bend. If it doesn’t seal up tonight, I’ll just superglue it.”
“Or…hear me out. You could drive into town and let a professional stitch it up for you…”
She grins up at me as I rip open the bandage. “Don’t tell me you’ve never used the superglue trick?”
“This sounds like a Hubert Jefferson trick…” I’ve never known Bliss’s father to go to the doctor for anything.
“It is. But in my defense, I asked my doctor about it, and he swore me to secrecy and told me that regular superglue will work just as well as medical grade.”
Carefully laying the bandage over the cut, I press down on the sticky wings and rub my thumbs back and forth, sealing it to her hand. “Sounds like you were the wrong person to swear to secrecy.”
She chuckles. “It’s a good trick to know. Especially when we live two hours from the nearest hospital.”
“Good point.” I smile down at her, and she freezes under my gaze.
Bliss gasps and pulls her hand from mine, then jumps back, looking around the house for a means of escape. “Dinner?” she squeaks out.
“Right.” I clear my throat, the air in the house feeling awfully heavy after I’ve been caught caressing her hand. “I’ve got dinner on the back deck for us.”
She beelines for the sliding glass door.