15-VINCENT
Friday after I had left, Mark was shoeing his Appaloosa horse when it got spooked and unfortunately clipped my uncle’s ribs. Nothing broke, but the bruise is making bending and lifting impossible for him. I pitched in to help with a ranch hand while I was gone.
I look at Reagan’s picture one last time before exiting my truck. At the moment, I’m right back in that cabin with her. Giving her what she deserved, that no man could give her before.
A smirk tugged at my lips when I remembered we shared an area code. I never asked where she lived, and when she wrote it down my arm, I knew I would see her again. Fuck it. I was going to ask.
Vincent: Your area code is saying you live near me. Where exactly? I want to see you again.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and jumped out.
Everyone had to know I was home. The paved road passed the main house, which was my grandparents home, and my uncle could see me drive down the road through the trees until I disappeared behind the stables and off into a grove of trees to my mom’s.
Although I was unsure I wanted to stay here, another quarter mile down, at the edge of the property, my house was almost finished.
I deep down knew it was cementing my future here.
But it wasn’t that bad. I love my family and my work.
I just need that break from everything. That’s why I leave in the summer.
My mom wants me to quit doing that, too.
My sister, Vanessa, became a vet tech and shacked up with some bartender a few towns over. She says she doesn’t miss the ranch life, but when she is here, I see it in her eyes. I’m scared of becoming that.
I dragged myself up the back steps, finding one of the ranch dogs, an Akbash, on the back deck. “Boaz.” I lean down to cup the old dog’s face, giving his ears a good scratch. “Good to see you, bud.”
The back door sings its familiar creak, and my mother is standing over the stove, canning the last of the garden harvest.
“Hey Mama.” The door quietly latches behind me, and she grabs the towel next to the stove to dry her hands.
She leans against the counter facing me. “Oh, you’re back earlier than I expected.” Every year, disapproval creeps up on her, and she never says it, but it’s practically seeping out of her.
Mom thinks it’s for the money, but I wouldn’t tell her I started doing it in hopes of getting Jori back. Now, it’s kind of for the money and to have one last getaway before getting chained to the ranch for the winter.
“How did it go?” She asks but doesn’t want me to say anything besides good.
“Well, it was my last year.” I steal the last mug of coffee that was barely left from this morning and sip it cold.
“Did you finally come to your senses?”
I grinned because she will want to know, but won’t pry in fear of getting the wrong answer. But I know there isn’t one. “I got in trouble.”
“I don’t want to know.” She throws her hands up and turns to work on a side dish for Sunday dinner at my grandparents’. “Vance is helping Mark with the horses. I suggest you make your way down there so you all can finish up in time for dinner.”
I pace towards her, “You got it, Mama.” My lips hit the top of her head, and I jog upstairs to change before helping my brother and uncle. I empty my jean pockets and stop when my phone is in my hand. I power the screen back on. A text notification.
Reagan: Let’s just say my drive was just over thirty minutes south. What about you?
Vincent: About the same, just north. You got home okay?
Reagan: Yes.
I knew exactly what town she lived in. Fuck, I wanted to drive there now. But duty called, and it might be kind of weird to show up and be like ‘I’m in town!’ I slipped into my work boots, shut my brain off, and headed downstairs to help the others.
?
It had been two days, and my brain hadn’t slowed down when it came to Reagan.
The last time I was this wrapped up about a girl was with fucking Jori, and I couldn’t help but think that she would end things the same.
But god, she was better than Jori. I didn’t deserve her, but yet I had stolen her right in The Chase Yard.
She had texted me earlier, and I wondered whether I had answered her correctly.
Vincent: What are you up to?
Reagan: Waiting for this cake to finish. You?
Vincent: Brushing a mare who hates me.
Reagan: Did you sign the papers yet? Do you need me to bring you a stupid pen?
There’s probably plenty at your desk. You were never good at doing what I asked the first or seventh time.
Hence the papers. Oh, and I’m this close to getting a restraining order against you.
Don’t show up unannounced at my house again.
Vincent: Do you want me to pretend I didn’t read that?
Then nothing. I assumed it was to her soon-to-be ex. No, it was. It clearly was. I set the slicker brush on the stool and rubbed my hands against the towel to check my phone again.
I was behind on work, but the thought of her ate away at me. It didn’t cross my mind to turn my ringer on until I was deep into my work, but I had to check, and I was in luck.
Reagan: I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, blurting out how hot you are or accidentally sending you the threats meant for my ex.
That was a threat? Cute.
Vincent: Would a date help you forget it?
Yes. I was willing to drive over an hour to take her out.
That would be the bare minimum. I was going to have to bust my ass this week or hire help again.
Which would help, since I was gone for 2 days and I am behind.
A date with Reagan would take away time as well. But just to see her again? Worth it.
“Vincent,” Mark called out before entering the stable.
“Yeah?” I said as loud as the mare would let me without needing to dodge a hoof.
He turned into the aisle from outside. “Lunch time. I got the side-by-side. Want to join us?”
“Yeah, I’ll—” I slid. my phone back into my pocket. “I’m coming.”
“Better than walking.”
My mother’s brother always had a way of making me feel part of the ranch.
Despite my darker clothes and longer hair, he made it clear that we were blood.
Some of the other employees looked at me like I had a different story to tell.
I didn’t. Some girl in eleventh grade said I looked good in black and that it brought out my eyes.
So I clung to that and had no reason to wear anything else.
Once in the passenger seat, I retrieved my phone again.
Reagan: A date with you would help me forget a lot of things.
Vincent: I can take you out Saturday. Does that work?
“Who is that?” Mark’s voice rose over the breeze.
“It’s—nobody.” But she wasn’t.
“Nobody doesn’t pull you from your work all day.
” Shit, he could see it. I couldn’t respond.
He knew about The Forewarning but also thought it was weird.
Especially the female runners. He didn’t understand why women just didn’t go to a bar and find a man to sleep with.
“Fine, you ain’t gotta tell me. Just keep your head down and keep working.
Don’t want to end up like how I am now.”
“Yes, Mark.”
Reagan: Yes.
?
Damn it. Here I was checking strides and shoes to the herd, seeing who needed adjusting and doing my actual job. I thought of Reagan and how she would fit in here. She wouldn’t. Her soft hands weren’t meant for this kind of work. She could make me excited to come home after a long day.
Last night I got wrapped up on her website. After scrolling through all the desserts she offered, I submitted an order for cheese danishes. The kind I had from the store was tasty, and it might be good for me to supply breakfast for once.
The Perlino Andalusian caught my attention, reminding me of Reagan. God, everything did. Funny enough, the horse’s name was Vanessa to replace my sister’s existence on the ranch.
I snapped a photo of the golden mare and, without hesitation, sent it to Reagan.
Vincent: She made me think of you. Because you’re pretty.
With my phone’s audio on, I went back to work with a sharp ear, waiting for that response.