Pretty Like the Wildflowers (Forget Me Not Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no, you don’t, Josiah,” I yell at the orange menace trying to sneak into the goat pen. “You best be leavin’ those goats alone! They’re not doin’ any harm to you, you old bastard. Go on, get outta here.”

I imagine if this cat could talk, he’d be rasping at me in his crotchety old man voice, telling me to mind my own damn business.

I swear his eyes narrow at me before he sniffs and scampers toward the back of the house, where his favorite spot is.

When no one’s watching him, his favorite activity is to rile up the goats by stalking them like they’re prey.

More than once, we’ve had to rescue them from him.

He knows good and well he’s not allowed in their pen.

Grabbing the egg basket off the porch, I make my way to the coop. The sun’s starting to peek over the horizon. The farm doesn’t care if it’s too early; chores have to be done, animals have to be fed, and eggs need to be gathered even if someone was up too late painting the mountains.

It’s almost wildflower season, which means when I have free time, I’ll be up in the hills with my headphones blasting The Chicks, my watercolors on my lap.

I grab the bucket of feed on my way and unlatch the chicken coop, greeted by the clucks and warbles from the hens. They rush over when they hear the rattle of the feed.

Our meanest lady, Eggitha Featherton, runs at me with her wings out like she’s going to attack.

“Now, now, Eggitha, I’m trying to feed you and gather the eggs.” I shove her away gently with my boot. “I’ll make Daddy send you to the butcher next if you don’t behave.”

Hard to say if she understands me, but I chose to believe she does as she bawks at me once and bobs away.

I set my basket down and dump their food into the feeder.

Clucks and squawks fill the coop as they flock to their breakfast. While they’re distracted, I hurry around putting eggs in the basket.

With fifteen chickens, my egg haul isn’t huge—today I have nine, enough to feed our little family.

It’s only me, Mama, and Daddy. We buy eggs in bulk for the chef to cook for guests.

Sometimes, city folk get weirded out by farm-fresh eggs.

I was twelve when my dad sat us down and told us we were selling our small farm in Texas to move to Montana. Apparently, one of his great uncles left this ranch to him in his will, and Daddy wanted some new scenery.

My older sister, Briar, fought like hell to get him to change his mind, but when a Calhoun sets their mind to something, there’s a slim chance of getting them to budge.

I cried leaving my childhood home and all the memories I made there, and I sobbed some more when I said goodbye to my friends.

It took a while for me to adjust to the elevation in Copper Creek, but in the fourteen years since moving, I’ve fallen in love with this small town, the mountains, and Forget Me Not Ranch.

I’ve made some good friends, and I’m happy here, even if being in a small town means my dating pool is smaller than a gallon bucket.

Daddy offered to send me off to college with my best friends, Bea and Shiloh.

He wanted me to spread my wings, to find love outside of the fences of the ranch, but I didn’t feel the pull to experience the big city like my friends did.

The thought of leaving Copper Creek and being in the city’s hustle and bustle had me breaking out in hives.

I chose to stay here and take online classes.

I figured Daddy could use someone with a business degree to help him with the paperwork side of the ranch, since that’s the part he hates the most.

Sometimes it feels like Daddy wants me to take a break. I think he worries about me being here all the time, but there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.

Besides, it’s not like I never leave. I went to visit Briar in Las Vegas once, where she’s working a hotshot accounting job.

I’ve travelled with Daddy to auctions and rodeos, and I visited Shiloh and Bea in Billings when they were there for school.

I like going out; I simply prefer to be here where it’s familiar and quiet.

I can be myself and stick to my routine.

I don’t have to figure out parking or pick something off a fancy menu I might not like.

I know everyone by name, and they know me.

I don’t worry too much about saying something wrong.

I take my bounty and walk back to the house, mentally going through my to-do list. A few new employees will be here to work during our summer season; Daddy likes to start them in late April so they can get the hang of things before the guests arrive in droves.

We’ve got two new ranch hands, a new wrangler who’ll also be teaching riding lessons and leading trail rides, and a new kitchen assistant who’ll be training to take over when our current chef, Landry, retires at the end of the season.

I have a little over two hours before they arrive, enough time to take a few deep breaths and prepare myself for meeting new people.

As the makeshift human resources person, I get to handle employee onboarding paperwork and show them how things operate.

One of my favorite parts of running the ranch is hearing stories from the people who come here: people who spend most of their time travelling, working on different ranches all over the world, and have so many stories that they put the small library we have in the guest house to shame.

While socialization can be overwhelming, I still enjoy getting to know our workers.

There’s less pressure when I know they’ll be leaving in a few months.

I only have to put on my mask for a little while.

When I walk in through the back door, my parents are speaking in hushed tones while Patsy Cline plays over the old boombox Mama keeps in the kitchen.

I toe off my boots and round the corner to find them dancing.

Daddy’s whispering the lyrics of the song in Mama’s ear as they sway, and I can’t help but smile.

There’s a running joke in our family that Daddy gave his genes to me, and Mama gave hers to Briar. My sister got Mama’s thick, dark auburn hair and thin, lithe frame, and I got my dad’s dark brown hair and sturdy, ample frame.

My parents are the gold standard for marriage.

They rarely fight, but if they do, they always make sure not to involve others.

If they ever fought in front of Briar or me, they’d tell us they made up afterward and showed us that arguments are a normal part of a relationship. It’s all about how it’s handled.

Daddy picks up a bouquet for Mama whenever he goes into town and always makes sure he has extra chocolate bars on hand for when she’s sad. He watches her favorite shows with her, even though he thinks they’re predictable and silly, and he never complains.

I want a love like theirs.

How am I supposed to find that when I don’t leave the ranch? No one’s going to magically fall into my lap and fall in love with me.

“Mornin’ Juni,” Mama says when the song ends and they pull apart.

“Morning, Mama. Morning, Daddy.”

“Morning, June-bug. We have our new employees comin’ today, you ready?”

“They should start arriving soon.”

“Great. I’ll come with you for the introductions. Oh, I should tell Kathy to get the cabin ready. I don’t want the new wrangler and kitchen assistant to sleep in the bunkhouse with the men.”

Kathy and her husband, Shane, live on the ranch and in our house

“I already prepared Briar and Juni’s old rooms for them so they wouldn’t have to trek between the guesthouse, mess hall, and barns every day,” Mama says. “When Landry retires and the chef’s quarters are empty, the new one can move in. Think they’ll be okay living here for the season?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I say. “I’d better get breakfast before they get here, or I won’t have enough energy to give them the tour.”

“Don’t forget to take your medicine, too,” he murmurs. “There’ll be lots of new people here today. I don’t want you having a panic attack.”

I’m twenty-six. I can remember to take my own damn meds.

I nearly roll my eyes. “I will.”

“Good. See you soon, June-bug.” After a quick kiss to Mama’s lips, Daddy puts his hat back on his silver-streaked head and clomps out the front door.

He doesn’t fully get my anxiety. I think he thinks it’s the unknown, but that’s not the whole reason.

Not entirely. It’s not just because there will be a lot of new people.

It’s having to be on. What if they don’t like me?

What if they think I’m bad at my job? What if they hate my personality? What if we don’t get along?

Then, I’ll spend the rest of the day analyzing every single word that came out of my mouth to make sure I didn’t say something embarrassing or rude or wrong.

“He means well, Juniper.” Mama pushes my bread down into the toaster. “You know that, right?”

“I know.”

And I do. Daddy’s never been mean or passive-aggressive about my anxiety or depression. He may not understand it, but he’s always believed in me and made sure I had the help I needed. He thinks it all goes away when I take my medicine, which isn’t the case.

“You’ll be okay today?” she asks. “You don’t need my help?”

I crack some fresh pepper on my eggs and sprinkle them with cheese, smiling at Mama. “I’m sure. It’s only four people.”

What could go wrong?

As I shuffle the paperwork around on my desk, Oakley, Rusty, and Briggs introduce themselves. Rusty and Briggs are the new ranch hands, and Oakley is the new assistant chef, so we’re just waiting on our new wrangler, Addison, to show up.

Oakley had arrived in a flurry of fiery red hair, freckles, and southern charm, ready to make me her best friend.

I can already tell I’m going to like her.

Rusty reminds me of a basset hound with his floppy brown hair and big brown eyes.

On the flipside, Briggs, with his piercing blue eyes, cropped black hair, thick beard, tattoos, and bulky frame, reminds me of a cane corso.

They seem kind and respectful. No weird vibes.

I think they’ll make a great addition to our team.

The office door opens, and Daddy greets the newcomer. My eyes are fixed on the computer screen, ensuring I have my checklist open, so I don’t miss anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone in a denim jacket take the seat behind my monitor.

Clearing my throat, I stand to introduce myself, but my mind goes blank when I meet brown eyes I conjure sometimes when my hand is between my legs. “H-hi. Nice to see you again.”

I search her face for any sign of recognition, and my heart falls to my stomach when I don’t find any. Her pink lips are tilted down, her arms crossed over her chest, and her jaw is set in a tight line. She scrutinizes the hand I’ve extended.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she clips, ignoring my offered handshake.

Embarrassment has heat rising up my neck until I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “Right. Uh, sorry. You looked familiar. Um… If you’ll excuse me, I need to… go grab somethin’ from the house. Be right back. Daddy, can you…”

I motion to the folders with the paperwork that needs to be handed out. My vision is blurring, and my palms are starting to sweat.

“Go, June-bug.” Daddy places his hand gently on my shoulder and nudges me toward the door. “I can take it from here.”

I scramble out, heading around the back of the main house and up the trail to the small one-bedroom tiny house Daddy insisted on making mine a few years ago. I’ve never been more grateful to have my own place than I am when hot tears burn behind my eyes.

How embarrassing. Of course, she wouldn't recognize me. It was one night three years ago.

Just because I remember doesn’t mean she does.