Chapter 11
Dom
Dust hangs in the air behind me, drifting along the fence line while we plod forward at the pace of this horse, who knows the day’s work is almost done.
I’m not in any hurry; the day might be over for him, but it’s not for me.
The whole ordeal with Riley this morning put me a tad behind on the things I needed to accomplish, and I would regret it, if it wasn’t for the smile on her face at the promises her sister gave her.
I caught myself rooting for her, which rarely happens.
I shift in the saddle and roll my shoulders, which feel like someone replaced my muscles with old fence wire. I have Riley to thank for that. I can already picture the way her full cheeks will tint raspberry red, how her eyes will stick to the back of her head in a sassy eye roll.
Stop thinking about her.
“C’mon,” I mutter. “Just a little farther, and you get hay.” Buck, the horse Arnold kindly assigned to me when I started without mentioning the fact that he’s untrusting of most people but somehow trusts me, flicks an ear back, like he’s considering the offer but not impressed.
He might trust me, but I don’t know if he actually enjoys my company.
We’ve been out since I got back to the north side of the ranch, pushing stragglers back through the north pasture.
Wind’s been blowing dust straight into my teeth all day.
My hat smells like sweat, leather, hard work, and poor decisions.
I should have just sent someone else to do this instead of trying to do it all myself.
All I want now is to drop Buck in the corral, eat something that isn’t jerky, and sit down long enough to remember what happiness used to feel like.
Out here, it’s easy to do so, unlike back at home.
I don’t know when I lost my north and stopped thinking about a life I should’ve been living, but tomorrow is never guaranteed.
Losing my sister-in-law suddenly, just a few days after birthing her child, was the reminder I needed.
The barn sits low on the horizon, sunlight sliding across the roof.
We can see it, and he acts like it too. Except, he might not be ready to go back.
I guide Buck toward the trail that cuts down through the clear pasture, but he doesn’t speed up.
He keeps his pace, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
We’re near the corral, ready to send him in with his buds, when I hear a sound far back.
I sit up straight. Buck stops—always in tune with me. I scratch his withers in a silent good boy. The wind moves through the grass, rattling dry stems together. Maybe I imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially after being sleep deprived.
Then, it comes again.
“Hello?”
The voice. I wish I could say I don’t recognize it, but I do.
“Please, can you hear me?” I rub a hand over my face.
Of course.
Because the universe looked at my perfectly reasonable plan to finish the day quietly and said, no, let’s ruin that. Not that I don’t want to see Riley again, but I’ve come to associate her with two things: trouble and turmoil. The first one, she causes; the latter one, she stirs in me.
I turn in the saddle, scanning the pasture. Nothing but scrub brush, a stretch of dry creek bed, and about a thousand places someone could be stuck doing something stupid.
But where is she?
“I’m in the coop!” she shouts, as if she knows I’m wondering. “I’m stuck.”
Of course she is.
I guide Buck off the trail toward the coop. The ground dips and the grass grows thicker, hiding rocks and holes that love nothing more than to break ankles—mine or Buck’s. And probably Riley’s, if she wasn’t careful enough.
We ease down the slope until we see her. She’s inside the chicken coop, the one near the barn I barely go into because Arnold says that’s not part of our job, and I’m not one to go against the old man’s wisdom.
The coop is like a gated mansion—a 10x20 custom-built coop and run, worn and old but loved, nonetheless. Riley’s face shifts into a relieved sigh when she sees me.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” My feet hit the toasted pasture as she walks on clean, dry pine shavings toward me. There’s a fence between us and a laugh I’m trying to contain. She looks ridiculous.
Ridiculously hot, at that.
The run is tall enough that she can walk without crouching, a high cedar frame and secure hardware cloth, which I know will keep predators out…and Riley.
“I cannot believe you’re saving me…again.”
I shake my head. “Do I even want to ask?” There’s no need for her to answer. Now that I’m near the door, I can see. A soft chuckle escapes me.
“It’s so fucking interesting how you barely smile, let alone laugh, but somehow, you’ve done it twice today. I’m going to try stand-up comedy if this whole working at the ranch thing doesn’t work.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” she says as her voice breaks. “I came in to collect the eggs I was supposed to bring into town an hour ago, but then I couldn’t get out.”
She’s been here for an hour?
I unlatch the door, allowing her to step outside, and before I can move, she throws herself at me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you one. I thought I was going to die here.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say, deflecting, since what I truly want to do is pull her closer and help calm her heart.
Her desperate tone is one I’d only like to hear behind closed doors when she’s begging for more, not because she’s been locked in a coop.
Flowers and sunshine wrap me up in a comfort I can’t quite name, and it is in this moment I realize how fucked I actually am.
Nah, we’re beyond looking and thinking about her as a beautiful woman. Now, we’re finding comfort in the way she smells or in the way she feels wrapped around me.
I know Lilly asked me to keep an eye on her, but I need to keep my distance.
I tried the whole dating and getting married thing once; turns out, I wasn’t great at it.
She knew it, we all knew it, but trying to do what society and my parents deemed acceptable meant high school, college, girlfriend, master’s, wedding, children, in that order.
The children were not in the cards, and neither was the marriage, I guess, since it ended while taking everything down in flames.
It wasn’t fair to her, though. I didn’t love her, not really.
We were friends, and I enjoyed her company; it made sense to take the next step, but I loved my job more. She never stood a chance.
The only regret I have is that I wasted years of her life in a marriage that wasn’t going anywhere. That, I will never forgive myself for. We fought an unwinnable battle, entering a crossfire that didn’t end until we were both on the ground.
One of us found a new life while the other is trying to rebuild.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks, grounding me back in the present. Guilty as charged, because I indeed was not.
“Sorry, you’re cutting off my circulation,” I mutter, earning me an exasperated sound.
“I was saying thank you, you big ol’ grump.”
“I wish I could say anytime, but something tells me it will literally be any time. Why didn’t you call someone?”
“So you weren’t listening. My phone died. I don’t understand how this happened.”
I pick up the wrench from the ground. The one I believe was making an effort to keep the door from shutting all the way. The one that broke and took the ability for anyone to open the door from the inside with it.
“Ah, I see. Do you think it broke a long time ago, or did I do it? Because if I have to tell Lilly that I didn’t deliver the eggs and I also broke the coop, she’s never going to let me do anything.”
She probably did break it, but I don’t have the heart to tell her as much. “Don’t sweat it. It broke a while ago. I can fix it.”
“You are seriously the best. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Probably play loud music at the crack of dawn without a care in the world.”
She smiles, finally, all colors returning to the world. “You are simply insufferable.”
“Resourceful? Yes, I am. Do you need a ride back?” I ask. Riley looks around until her eyes crash with Buck, and her demeanor shifts again.
“Nope. I’m gonna run.”
“You’re never going to make it to town in time if you don’t let me take you.”
Her eyes are trained on the horse, not paying me any attention. She looks almost scared, but there’s no way Riley, chaos personified, is afraid of the most docile horse I’ve ever met.
“I don’t do horses.”
“You own a ranch.”
“So?”
“You also offered to feed them for me in exchange for saving you last time.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a long story. But seriously, thank you. I’m gonna head back now.”
She rushes past Buck, not looking back. This interaction leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I can’t pinpoint why.
My hands graze Buck’s reins, climbing on so I can finish what I needed to do today—and then go take a cold shower and try to forget about Riley Banks invading my senses.
Again.