Chapter 10
10
C harlie Grace Rivers turned her truck into the gravel driveway of the Teton Trails Guest Ranch, the crunch of tires on ice the only sound in the quiet predawn morning. Her sharp eyes immediately caught sight of a familiar truck parked near the barn. Gibbs’ truck.
A flicker of curiosity mixed with annoyance tightened her chest. What was he doing here? Normally, Gibbs didn’t show up for work on time, let alone hours early.
With a resigned sigh, she parked her truck near the porch and stepped out, taking care not to slip. Her gaze lingered on the barn, where faint cracks of light peeked through the edges of the big sliding door.
Charlie Grace adjusted her hat, tugged her coat tighter against the crisp chill, and made her way in that direction. The scent of hay and wood smoke hung in the air, and the mountains stood sentinel in the distance, their snowy peaks a silent witness to whatever awaited her.
Charlie Grace’s marriage to Gibbs had been a masterclass in frustration. He was unreliable and untrustworthy, with a wandering eye and a tendency to let his charm roam as freely as a stray calf. That was bad enough, but he was also irresponsibly absent when it came to the heavy lifting. The ranch work, the housework, raising their daughter, Jewel—it all fell squarely on Charlie Grace’s shoulders. Gibbs, meanwhile, played the fun parent, swooping in for movie nights and ice cream runs, leaving her to nag about homework and clean up the messes he left behind.
She’d about throttled her dad when he went behind her back and hired Gibbs to help at the ranch. It was no surprise when she caught Gibbs in the hayloft with Albie’s niece, Lizzy—or when he got her pregnant.
Since marrying Lizzy, Gibbs seemed—for lack of a better word—different. His womanizing days appeared to have settled, replaced by the steady responsibilities of being a husband and, more recently, a father.
Maybe he believed this was his chance. A fresh start. A do-over. Maybe he’d finally decided to be the man he’d always claimed he could be. Charlie Grace couldn’t decide whether that notion annoyed her or made her hopeful—for Lizzy and the baby’s sake, of course. Not for her own.
She reached the barn and hesitated for a moment, hand poised on the door handle. The faint sound of muffled voices reached her ears. Her brow furrowed as she slid the door open just enough to slip inside, her boots barely making a sound on the barn’s dirt floor.
Inside, Gibbs stood near the tack wall, his broad back to her, gesturing animatedly as he spoke to someone out of view. The warm light from the overhead bulb cast long shadows across the hay-strewn floor, and the scene felt oddly intimate, even though Charlie Grace doubted it was anything more than practical ranch talk.
“Gibbs,” she called, her voice cutting through the barn’s quiet. Her tone was calm, but it carried the weight of years of shared history—some good, some not.
Gibbs turned, his expression startled before quickly settling into that familiar, boyish grin. “Charlie Grace. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Charlie Grace glanced around. “Who were you talking to?”
“Who? Me?”
She frowned. “No, the scarecrow in the corner. Of course, you.” She looked around again, puzzled. “Are you alone?”
Gibbs’ face flamed as he turned and patted the nuzzle on the horse in the pen. “Just chatting with Mr. Ed.”
“You were carrying on a conversation with a horse?” She shook her head. “Whatever.”
He dipped his hand in a bucket of grain and brought it to the horse’s mouth. “Hey, we’re buddies, aren’t we Mr. Ed?”
He turned. “How’s Capri doing?”
Capri slipped her hands deep inside her coat pockets. “No doubt, she’ll be in traction for a couple of weeks. Then, when she’s released and comes home, she’ll still need a lot of assistance. Jake’s stepping up to take care of her while she recovers.”
“What about her mother?”
She shrugged. “Her mom is pretty wrapped up in her new husband. I don’t think she wanted to leave him in Idaho, even temporarily.” While she didn’t say so, it irked her that Capri’s mother was so self-focused. Especially after everything Capri had always done to take care of her mom.
She supposed it was true. There were women whose sole being and purpose was wrapped up in a man at the expense of everything, and everyone, else.
Charlie Grace let out a heavy sigh. “I doubt Capri will be riding any snowmobiles or charging rapids in a raft any time soon. She’ll be doing well to get herself dressed every day.”
Gibbs nodded, his smile fading as concern crept into his eyes. “That’s tough. She’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”
Charlie Grace nodded, the memory still raw. “Yeah. When I saw the snowface start to slide, my heart dropped. It’s terrifying how fast something like that can happen, how small you feel in the face of it.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she pressed her lips together to steady herself. “For a moment, I thought we would for sure lose her.”
Gibbs stepped closer, his usual swagger replaced with an unexpected gentleness. “Hey, it’s okay. You did everything you could, and Capri’s tough. She’ll get through this.” He placed his hand on the sleeve of her coat and squeezed.
The sincerity in his voice surprised her. They were talking like friends again, sharing a moment that felt real and unguarded. For a brief second, she thought maybe this was what they’d lost somewhere along the way.
And then, as if on cue, Gibbs shattered the moment.
“Speaking of getting through,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “I was wondering if I could get an advance on my paycheck. I’m running a little low right now.”
Charlie Grace’s brows shot up. “An advance? Gibbs, we’ve talked about budgeting before. What happened?”
He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Well, Brewster Findley was selling his spotting scope. I picked it up for only two hundred bucks. That’s half of what it sells for new. If I didn’t scoop it up, someone else would have.”
“A spotting scope?” Charlie Grace’s voice was flat, the disbelief clear.
“Yeah,” Gibbs said earnestly, as though this explanation would smooth everything over. “It’ll be great for hunting season. You can’t pass up a deal like that.”
Charlie Grace stared at him, torn between exasperation and the tiniest flicker of amusement.
Same old Gibbs.
“Truth is, Gibbs. Cash flow is tight for the ranch right now. I really can’t advance you the money.”
“You know I’m good for it,” he argued.
“That’s not the issue. My statement is one hundred percent accurate. There’s no money to spare in the ranch’s bank accounts. Not until tourist season arrives.”
Gibbs hesitated. “What about you personally? Can you spare a couple of hundred so I make rent? My landlord is cracking down on late payments, and I’d rather not end up living out of my truck. That might not sit well with Lizzy and the baby. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, Charlie Grace. You know I always do.”
Charlie Grace folded her arms and studied him. Same pleading tone, same excuse, same tired promises. Gibbs Nichols might as well be a broken record, spinning the same sorry song he’d been singing for years.
“Gibbs, you’ve got to stop coming to me like this. You’re a grown man,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “I can’t keep bailing you out every time you hit a rough patch. You’ve got to figure out how to stand on your own two feet.”
His face tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue. But then, like always, he softened into the charming grin that had once worked so well on her.
“Come on, Charlie Grace. Don’t be like that. You know I’d do the same for you.”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, Gibbs. You wouldn’t. That’s the thing about you—you’re always looking for someone to fix things for you, to catch you when you fall.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for the right response but coming up empty.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gentler now. “I really am. But this time, you’re going to have to figure it out on your own.”
For a moment, Gibbs just stared at her, his grin slipping into something harder to read. Then he shrugged, shoved his hands into his pockets, and muttered, “Guess I’ll figure something out, then.”
As he turned and walked away, Charlie Grace felt a pang of sadness. There was a time she might have handed him the money without a second thought, believing she was helping him, believing he might change. But she’d grown to know better.
Gibbs Nichols was a master at landing on his feet—and that would never change.
She watched him head outside and toward the feeding bins, his boots kicking up powdery snow. She stood gazing at his retreat for several seconds before turning and heading for the house.
On the way, she looked up at the fading moon and murmured to herself, “The trouble with Gibbs isn’t that he’s stuck in a rut. It’s that he’s made the rut his home.”