Chapter 2
A Six pack of beer and Zebra Cakes.
Cole
Man, I can smell Nancy’s cookin’ already as I slide on my boots. Bacon, eggs, something buttery. Coffee, too. Strong. The good kind. The kind that wakes you up whether you’re ready or not.
I head down the hall toward the dining room and spot Dad already at the table with Nancy, the two of them deep in conversation. Too deep, if you ask me. Laughing. Leaning a little too close. I don’t like it.
Nancy was Mom’s best friend. She’s been our chef since I was a kid, always hovering around the edges of our lives, steady and familiar. But Mom’s been gone almost four years now, and Dad seems to like Nancy’s company a little more than I’m comfortable with.
“Well, you’re up early,” Dad calls out.
I raise my eyebrows and give him a tight smile. “Morning.”
“Mornin’, Cole,” Nancy says cheerfully.
“Mornin’, Nancy.” I grab a plate and pile scrambled eggs and bacon onto it. “You sure are here early every single day. Y’all doin’ sleepovers now?”
“Dammit, Cole,” Dad snaps.
I hold up a hand, chewing. “Easy.” I glance between them. “I’m just teasin’.”
I wash the food down with sweet tea, even though what I really want is coffee.
“Coffee, Cole?” Nancy asks.
I nod, and she sets a mug down, pouring what might as well be hot lava into it.
“Why are you up so early?” Dad asks.
“I’m takin’ your tenant to town for groceries,” I say flatly.
“Well, that’s nice of you.”
I roll my eyes. “She was gonna get an Uber last night. Have some stranger drive her out here and bring her back after dark. Damn city girl. Too proud to ask to borrow a truck, so I told her she could ride with me when I went.”
Dad nods slowly. Then he smiles at Nancy. They share a look.
They’re snickering.
“What?” I grunt, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Oh, nothin’, son,” Dad says, way too innocent.
Before I can press him, there’s a knock at the door.
I glance at my watch. 6:55. Huh. She’s actually on time. I was half-expecting to have to go knock on her door and remind her this wasn’t Seattle.
I push my chair back and slide my plate into the sink, wiping my mouth as I head for the door. There’s another knock just as I open it.
“Oh hey!” she blurts. “You said to be here right at seven. I know I’m a little early, but I woke up and didn’t have anything to eat, so I got dressed and figured I’d walk over. Hope that’s okay—oh my goodness, it smells amazing in here! I didn’t interrupt breakfast, did I?”
Jesus. The girl can talk.
“Nah,” I start. “I just fin—”
“Come on in and grab a plate before y’all go,” Dad interrupts.
“Oh really?” Layla beams. “That’d be awesome. It smells incredible, John. Really.”
She brushes past me without a second thought, following Dad into the kitchen like she belongs there.
I shut the door and exhale through my nose. I do not want to spend this much time with this girl today.
The ranch isn’t going to run itself. Luke sleeps until noon, if I’m lucky. Dad’s not able to do half of what he used to. Which means most of it falls on me. Always has.
I watch Layla load her plate. She doesn’t pick at her food. Doesn’t hesitate. Just eats. Good eater, at least. Not like the twigs I see in the city who act like food’s a moral failing.
“Wow,” she says softly. “This is incredible, Nancy.”
“You’re welcome, sugar,” Nancy says. “Want some coffee?”
“Uhh—actually, do you have any of that sweet tea from last night?” Layla asks, nose crinkling.
Nancy laughs. “Course I do, doll.”
Layla does this little excited wiggle in her chair, like sweet tea is the highlight of her day.
I lean back, arms crossed.
“How’d you sleep?” Dad asks her.
“Great,” she says easily. “Like a baby. I love that fireplace.”
“Well, if you need more wood, it’s out back,” Dad tells her.
“Can we hurry this up?” I blurt.
Layla freezes. Then she nods quickly. “Yes! I’m so sorry. I’m done. Thank you guys—truly. I’m really grateful for dinner last night and this morning. I’m going to the store, so hopefully I won’t be much of a bother.”
I nod once as she scoots her chair in.
I grab my keys and head for the door, Layla trailing close behind me.
“Whew, it’s only seven a.m. and it’s already hot out here,” she says, trailing close behind me toward the truck.
Well she won’t last a summer here. Not if she’s already complaining about the heat. Summers get into the high nineties.
I shake my head. “It only gets worse. Wait till July or August. You’ll be wishin’ you were back in good ol’ Seattle, city girl.”
She laughs as we both climb into the cab. As she settles into the passenger seat, buckling her seat belt, she digs through her purse and pulls out a folded piece of paper, waving it at me like she’s proud of herself.
“Got my list!” she announces.
“Thanks for lettin’ me tag along, Cole.”
Why does she act like this is a group activity? This is a favor not a field trip.
“Yup,” I reply, turning the key.
I crank the engine and turn on the radio, flipping straight to the country station I always listen to. It fills the cab, steady and familiar. She bobs her head almost immediately, staring out the window, tapping her foot against the floorboard.
Doesn’t take long before the questions start.
“So how long have you lived in Clover?”
Here we go, city folk always want to hear stories. Like cowboy life is some movie they are watching on tv but hell, I knew this was comin’. She talks. A lot.
“Since I was born,” I say. “What about you—always lived in Seattle?”
“Yup.” She smiles. “I miss it, but my goodness, Tennessee is beautiful.”
“Mhm.”
“Are you married?”
Woah, where the hell did that come from? This is exactly why I don’t make conversation.
I glance over. “Is that any of your business?”
“Well, no,” she says easily. “But if we’re gonna be neighbors, I’d like to know a little about you. Plus, how long of a drive is this?”
“Another twenty minutes,” I say. “And no. Never been married. Never want to be.”
“Hm.” She pauses. Then—“Oh my God. Starbucks. Yes! Please stop. I need a coffee.”
“You just had sweet tea.”
“That doesn’t matter. Please stop. I need a caramel Frappuccino in a bad way.”
“A what?”
“I’ll be quick, I promise.”
I sigh, but I pull into the Starbucks anyway, parking right up front.
“I’ll be in and out,” she says, hopping down from the truck.
Annoying. Talks nonstop. Zero respect for my time.
I told her I didn’t want to be out all day.
Still, my eyes follow her through the window.
Brown hair swinging as she orders. Animated.
Smiling. Too comfortable. She’s making an impression on these people as if this is her home like she’s lived here her whole life.
Too much presence for someone who isn’t staying. She comes back with two drinks.
I lean over and open the passenger door. “You gonna drink both of those?”
“No, silly.” She grins. “One’s for you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh come on, it’s really tasty.”
“It’s a girl drink.”
“Just take a sip, Cole.”
She says my name like she’s known me for years. I don’t like it. I take a sip anyway. Damn it.
I feel my mouth twitch. “It’s… pretty good. I’ll admit.”
Her smile is immediate and bright, and she bites her lip like she won something.
“Told you.”
Just because she knew I’d like it doesn’t mean anything.
At the store, it’s chaos. Cars are everywhere. No spots big enough for my truck.
Layla sighs. “Just park anywhere.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s not how this works.”
City girls don’t get it. You don’t squeeze a truck like this between two compacts and hope for the best. You park out of the way. She obviously doesn’t understand responsibility.
Finally, I find a spot.
She grins. “Finally. One good enough for Cole Marshall.”
I give her a look.
“Let’s go get you back to the ranch,” She says.
Inside, I grab a basket. She grabs a buggy.
“How much stuff are you gettin’?” I ask.
“Oh, you know—just toiletries, snacks, food. I’ll probably have dinner with you guys most nights, so not too much.”
Famous last words.
We hit the hygiene aisle first. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Shampoo. Conditioner. Why can’t one bottle do everything? Then body wash. Body scrub. Razors. Shaving cream. Things I’ve never heard of. Her cart fills fast.
Food aisle next. Chips. Cookies. Frozen meals. Sweet tooth. I clock that immediately. Figures.
“It’s been an hour, Layla,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“I’m ready,” she says easily.
She looks at my basket. Six-pack of beer. Zebra cakes. That’s all I need.
“That’s all you got?”
“That’s all I got.”
“You came all this way for beer and zebra cakes?”
“Yes. Now pay the man so we can get outta here.”
She shakes her head, sliding her card anyway. “Thank you!” she tells the cashier.
Outside, she starts unloading her stuff.
“Go ahead and get in,” I say. “I’ll handle this.”
“What a gentleman.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
She smirks and grabs the keys out of my hand.
The drive back is quieter. Better. Music playing. Her looking out the window, scribbling in her notebook. Writing something. I try not to wonder what. She dozes off halfway back. Head tilted. Mouth open. Soft snore. All that caffeine and she still passed out. She shouldn’t be this comfortable.
The gravel crunches under the tires, waking her.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I must’ve dozed off.”
I pull up short.
“Son of a bitch.”
Her head snaps up. “What’s wrong? Who’s that?”
I stare at the car parked out front.
“Maggie,” I say. “My sister.”