Chapter 10
Your Elbow Is In My Ribs
Another week working on the renovation has come and gone. Another week of Miles working on the fence outside and avoiding my glance at all cost. I’ve buried myself in paperwork this week, and helped out the crew with a few projects when I can.
Our biggest jobs are just about finished. New plumbing is installed, the wiring has been checked and fixed in a few spots, and it looks completely like a construction zone. Which means everything is moving along well. We’ve had a few issues, but nothing out of the ordinary for an old cabin.
After all, according to Walter this was one of the original ranches of the area. I’m actually surprised with how well it has been taken care of.
Miles is about a quarter of the way done with the fence.
He wasn’t around at all at the beginning of the week.
I assumed he had things to do at his actual job like roping cattle or whatever he does up on the ranch.
But he made good progress yesterday and today.
The fence looks even better than before.
I still don’t know what to make of him walking me home on Branding Night. It seemed so out of character for him. Or rather, out of character for the new Miles. I feel like old Miles definitely would have walked me home. Maybe he’s warming up to me. Finally.
Taking off my gardening gloves, I wipe the sweat from my brow. It’s later in the evening on Friday night, and the crew has gone home. I’ve spent a few evenings out tending to my little side project, planting some new flowers and weeding.
After Branding Night, the ones I had planted already slowly started to grow just a bit taller and fuller. Now, when I look out at the garden, it’s a beautiful mix of reds, purples, and whites.
I grab my trowel, my gloves, and the tin watering can I found on the side of the cabin yesterday and head back into the cabin.
It’s quiet when I’m the only one around, but it’s kind of nice to just sit with my thoughts.
I set the supplies down by the backdoor where I usually keep them, and head over to wash my hands.
I still haven’t heard from my parents, which is troubling.
When they’re this quiet while I’m out on a job, it’s usually a bad sign.
I’m much more comfortable with their unrelenting criticism.
At least then I know I’m doing something right.
Now, I’m not sure what’s going on. I talked to Aunt Millie this week who said they’re probably just busy, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut it’s something else.
Pushing stray hairs out of my face, I walk to the kitchen table and pick up my laptop. It’s one of the only pieces of furniture that was in the house when I got here, and I used it to make the kitchen my sort-of office for now.
I can see almost the whole house from here. The back door on the far side of the kitchen, the dining room right through the door, the living room through a window in the other wall.
As I look around the house, I feel it again. That warm, belonging feeling from before. As still as a statue, I look around the house. Everything’s in place. There’s no indoor breezes, no ghosts floating around in the rooms, no glints of light.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me so badly I almost jump out of my skin. The warmth fades as I catch my breath and see who’s calling. None other than Walter Autry.
“Hello,” I answer, voice shaky.
“Hi there, Katie, it’s Walter Autry, from the ranch,” he says loudly into the phone.
A chuckle slips past my lips. “Hi Walter, what a pleasant surprise to hear from you.” I haven’t seen Walter or Isabella in a bit and I’ll be honest, I’ve missed them.
“Right back at you, young lady,” he says.
“I’m calling on Isabella’s instruction to let you know we’d be happy to have you over on Sunday night for dinner, along with every Sunday for the foreseeable future.
At least while you’re around. She was a little bummed you missed it last week, but she wouldn’t want me to tell you that. ”
My smile grows. I was so tired from staying out late at Branding Night on Saturday I didn’t even think about dinner at the Autry house.
“Of course I’ll be there,” I assure Walter. “You’re both too kind to keep inviting me over to your home.”
“As long as you’re living on the ranch, you’re family,” he says. It’s not often I feel like part of a family. Usually only with Hazel’s family and my Aunt Millie. Walter has no idea how much that means to me.
“Thanks, Walter.” I choke back the emotion in my throat. “Is there anything I should bring?”
“Just your charming personality,” he chuckles. I almost wish I weren’t leaving at the end of the summer. I’ve only been here a few weeks and I’m already falling in love with this place.
The way the sun sets on the ranch setting mountains aglow, the beautifully historic cabin I get to turn into something people can visit and love as much as I do, the wildflowers growing in the open fields like paint splatters on a canvas.
The kind people who live here and have taken me in as one of their own when they surely didn’t need to.
The front door hinges squeak open in a sudden gust of wind. Dust kicks up into a cloud in the hallway, shining in the sunlight pouring through the windows and revealing some sort of symbol drawn onto the glass.
I walk over to the front windows. Who would be drawing on my windows? One of my crew members? As I get closer, I can make out the design a little more clearly. It’s a crisp, clear outline of the Wyoming symbol, the Bucking Horse and Rider.
It’s drawn so well, I’m not sure I could ever recreate something so perfectly with just a little bit of dust on a pane of glass. There’s nothing else written, just the cowboy and his horse.
When I make it to the door to shut it again, Miles’s pickup truck is parked next to my car in the gravel drive. The top of his backwards baseball cap barely pokes over the top of a leafy plant he’s hauling down from the tailgate.
He gets the potted plant down onto the ground, and snaps the tailgate shut.
He hasn’t seen me yet, so I take that as my one opportunity to really look at him.
His onyx hair curls around the sides of his baseball cap, a few strands poking through the hole at the front.
As he reaches up to test the tailgate latches, his black t-shirt lifts up at the bottom just enough for a sliver of his tan skin to show.
I can make out a tattoo on his back hip. The top part of what looks to be a longhorn skull, horns stretched out along the muscles of his back.
My face is on fire. His arms flex as he walks past the front porch to the side of the house with the huge potted bush.
“Whatcha got there?” I say, still leaning against the door frame. He jumps a little, looking around to find where my voice came from. His eyes spark as they settle on mine.
“Oh, hey,” he says, turning towards me and setting the pot on the grass.
“Hi,” I smile.
Miles makes his way up a few of the steps until he’s right in front of me, looking at me with those dark eyes that make my heart do somersaults in my chest. “I brought you a Gaillardia bush. You can plant it out back with the other flowers. You like plants, right?”
My chest tightens. It’s a thoughtful gesture.
One I’ve seen Miles do for other people, but didn’t think I’d ever have directed at me.
The flowers on the plant look like a sunset.
Dark red on the inside, then fanning out to orange and eventually yellow on the ends of the petals.
“Yes, I like plants. I garden all the time back home.”
“I noticed you had a big open spot out back, and I thought I’d bring this by. If you don’t like it, I can take it back,” he looks down for a second. If I didn’t know Miles better I’d think he was sort of nervous. But he’s not the nervous type.
“That’s really thoughtful, Autry. Of course I’ll take it.” I take a step towards him, down one porch step until there’s only one between us. Being this close to him is almost intimidating. He takes up so much space, the air is thin between us. It’s intoxicating.
Miles stands his ground, holding my gaze. “Alright.” His voice is so low it’s almost a whisper but not quite.
One minute I’m staring at him trying to think of something, anything, to say to break up this tension between us, and the next, the whole world is tilting.
The stairs beneath me tilt forwards, causing me to fall right onto him. Miles staggers backwards too, but catches both of us before we tumble to the ground.
Right until the ground lifts again, effectively causing us both to lose our footing and fall straight to the ground.
The orange sky flies around me as I get my bearings. “What was that?” I mumble.
“Almost felt like an earthquake,” Miles says from below me.
Miles is below me.
I look down to find his nose about an inch away from mine.
His arms are wrapped around me, holding me in place, and mine are tucked into his firm chest. The magnetic force that has been pulling me towards him since I stepped foot on this ranch only gets stronger now that we are closer than we have been in years.
An electric current passes between us. Miles’s hands tighten around my waist, and instead of pushing me away like I expect him to do, he grips me slightly tighter. Suddenly I’m back in that bar four years ago, hoping he’ll want me back.
My hair falls around us, glowing fire red in the light of the sunset. My fingers itch to touch him, to move across his chest, but I’m pressed up against him too tightly to move my arms.
I’m entranced. I couldn’t pop this bubble if I wanted to. I could stare at him for hours, lost in the swirl of brown in his eyes. Electricity flows between us like a river, pushing and pulling us together.
“Hey, Katie?” Miles whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Your elbow is in my ribs.”
I fall out of the clouds and back into my own head. “Shit, sorry. I should probably move.”
The ungraceful way I stumble off of him and onto my feet is a testament to my current state of being. My thoughts are jumbled, trying to work out what is happening between us. I brush off my shorts and fix my hair as best I can as Miles pushes himself up to his feet.
“Did the stairs… move?” I ask, voice wobbly.
Miles brushes off his arms, covered in dust from the dirt walkway. “It sure felt like it.”
“Weird,” I breathe. Logically, I know the floor can’t just move out from under you. But, barring an earthquake that didn’t seem to affect anything else, I’m not quite sure what happened. I’d blame it on my own clumsiness if Miles hadn’t felt it too.
“I’m gonna set this guy out back. Any place you’re thinking of planting it?” Miles gestures to the plant on the porch, forgotten in the chaos of what just happened.
“I’ll come with you,” I offer.
We walk back to the flower bed up against the back of the cabin.
One side contains my marigolds and other flowers I’ve planted that are thriving in the new soil.
I’m proud of them. But on the other side of the back porch, there’s an open spot I haven’t gotten to yet.
I always meant to find something for that spot, I just haven’t found the right plant.
“Right there,” I point. Miles sets the pot down in the grass next to the flower bed.
“Roger that,” he says, picking up the shovel I left leaning against the cabin. With one swing of his arm, he plants the shovel in the ground, starting on the hole for the Gaillardia to be planted in. “This one is called Arizona Sun. I think the name matches pretty well.”
“You’re planting it now?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he responds, digging a few inches into the soil, “is that a problem?”
“No, no problem at all. I’ll stay and help.”
“You don’t have to stay, I’m sure you have things to do,” he says.
I laugh. “What else do I have to do? This is it right here. Plus, this is the fun part. It’s the painting and drywall that gets tedious.”
We work together planting the bush of flowers. Digging the hole, spreading some of the potting soil I bought before lifting the plant out of the pot and into the ground. Watering the soil to pack it down.
We don’t talk much, just sitting comfortably in each other’s presence. I find myself laughing a lot more than I do when I’m gardening by myself. Miles does too. Especially when I go to pat the dirt down only to have it spray back up into my face.
“It looks so much smaller than it did in the pot.” I clap my gloved hands together, sending a small dust cloud out into the night.
Miles nods, picking up the last of our gardening tools. “It’ll grow.”
“Thanks for doing this for me. I don’t think anyone besides my aunt has ever given me a plant before.” I take my gloves off, setting them on the cement back porch.
“It’s really not that big of a deal, it’s just a plant,” Miles grumbles, but the smallest sparkle glints in his eye.
Arizona Sun Gaillardia.
It may be just a plant, but it’s my new favorite plant in the entire world.