9. Lyla
Lyla
The cool water from the shower runs over my skin, leaving goosebumps behind each drop. The morning air was brisk, and yet somehow after my yoga practice I felt hot, flushed, heat warming me through to my core and sinking low in my gut until I could have sworn I felt… turned on.
It feels like I was branded, the distinct shape of iron-dark eyes still outlined on my skin.
Once my body has sufficiently cooled down, the heat between my thighs settling, I shut the water off with a squeak of the handle and step out of the shower.
It only takes me a few minutes to make myself presentable. I twist my long brown hair into a claw clip, still wet, swipe some concealer, blush, and tinted lip balm on my plush lips and call it good.
I pick an outfit out of my suitcase, my favourite denim shorts and a cream, flowy, off-the shoulder top that drapes loosely around my hips. Then, I slide on my brown leather sandals, grab my purse and head out the door.
Today’s goal: coffee, and groceries. I could use some staples around here, at least enough to throw together a simple meal. Then I won’t have to rely on Beck, or anyone else.
It’s probably better if I don’t have to interact with Beck much at all. If we can keep things professional between us, and limit our time together to working on ranch business, it’ll give me less opportunities to fuck things up. To say something stupid.
The property is quiet as I get in my car to leave, but in the distance I spot Beck and the other cowboys out in the field on horseback, rounding up the cattle so they’re moving as one large group.
As much as I shit on ranching, I have to admit, the way they work together in formation is nothing short of impressive.
Sage Valley is exactly the way I remember it as I drive down Main Street. The tall ash trees protrude from the centre median, and the historic store fronts line both sides. Most of the businesses along the main strip aren’t open yet, it’s not even nine.
Foodmart opens at seven though, bright and early, and it’s my sole destination this morning. It’s a small market, and carries mostly local goods from the neighbouring farms, like artisan breads and jam that’s to die for, with only a handful of brand name items that have to be trucked in.
I pick Critter up from the passenger seat and slip him into the tote bag I then sling over my shoulder.
I decide he’ll be coming with me on my errands, at least until I trust him to be alone in the guest house.
Beck didn’t ask me for a damage deposit–he isn’t charging me anything–but I wouldn’t put it past him to send me a bill if Critter decided that the baseboards looked like a chew toy.
“Be quiet in there,” I whisper to my armpit as we enter the store. I’m sure having a dog in a grocery store is some kind of health violation, and Critter would never be passable as a service animal. I think at this point, I am Critter’s support human.
The grocery store is quiet when I enter, one person is standing at the only open check out line. My shoulders relax a little as I pick up a basket by the door and sling it over my other arm.
If there’s one thing I appreciated the most about living in the big, bustling city, it was the ability to leave the house without being recognized.
In the city, you can be completely anonymous if you want. And most days, that’s what I preferred. Even after fifteen years living there, the connections I made remained limited.
I didn’t exactly put myself out there to make friends, and whenever I did it never lasted long. I’d end up saying something that put people off, I’d share my opinions too readily and too soon, and the friendship would peter out.
Relationships often died a natural death that came from someone subconsciously choosing not to spend time with me.
Over the years, I came to terms with it, and accepted it was better that way.
I’m not a loner by any means, but any friendships I have held onto I’ve been very careful to keep surface level, exchanging pleasantries and texting each other funny memes.
It’s not that easy in Sage Valley. Growing up here, my parents were an integral part of the town, and losing them wasn’t just a blow to Austin and me.
It had a ripple effect. Anyone who’s been around here long enough will recognize me, want to know how I’ve been, what I’m up to, and why I’m back.
None of which are topics I particularly care to talk about.
I weave up and down through the short aisles, making my first stop at the pet food.
I pick up a bag of Critter’s favourites.
Cat treats, actually. He loves them, even though I remind him that Kitty Whiskas are not meant for him.
On days when I really need him to behave, they’re my best option.
Especially on a day like today, when I want to get in and get out without making a scene.
I drop a treat into the bag for being quiet, and hear his lips smack as he licks them clean.
There’s only one item left on my list, a package of the Biscoff cookies Wade served me with my tea the other night. Between the two of us, we polished them off. I can’t imagine Wade gets himself out to the grocery store much these days, so the least I can do is replace them.
I drop a package of the cookies in the basket, when I notice a woman, middle aged, lips pursed together as she regards me from across the aisle.
I offer her a tight smile back, acknowledging the uncomfortable way she’s staring at me.
She turns on her heel with a huff and heads toward the cash registers at the front of the store.
Since I now have everything on my list, I head in the same direction.
That’s when I overhear her, hiss-whispering at the blonde woman wearing the green Foodmart apron.
“She’s stealing,” the woman says, her blown out hair bouncing as she shakes her head. “I’ve been watching, and every two aisles or so she grabs something and puts it in that hideous bag she’s carrying.”
I roll my eyes and approach the cash register. There’s only one, so I awkwardly unload my groceries onto the conveyor belt behind the woman. I don’t particularly want to give away Critter’s position in my bag, so I stay quiet, hoping the cashier will brush it off as a misunderstanding.
The cashier’s eyes linger on me for a moment longer than is comfortable as she scans the woman’s items–cranberry juice and Preparation H—telling me she’s likely just miserable because she has a UTI and hemorrhoids, so maybe I’ll cut her some slack.
Once the woman is finished paying, she gives the cashier another warning about “setting a precedent for thieves” and is finally on her way.
The cashier wordlessly rings me through.
An awkward silence falls between us, punctuated by the beep of the scanner.
I hate awkward silences. I always have a tendency to try and fill them, and it’s when I do that I say something stupid.
The moment that follows is always weird and tense as whatever I said lands on the person across from me.
I can almost predict exactly when they’ll make some excuse to leave.
“I wasn’t stealing, by the way,” I blurt, picking up the opened bag of cat treats I put on the register. “I was always planning on paying for these.”
The woman smiles, her eyes bright. “I know,” she says. “Doreen is a busybody around town. She’s pretty much always accusing someone of something. And I know you have a someone in there.” She points to my tote.
I let out a puff of laughter. “I thought I was being discreet.”
“Your bag is… wiggling,” she says.
I glance down at her name tag. Tessa. The name sounds familiar but I can’t place it.
Tessa scans a few more of my items, pausing briefly when she picks up the Biscoff cookies.
“It’s Lyla, right?” She casually points toward me. “Austin’s sister?”
“Yeah. Sorry I…” My voice trails off as I think of a polite way of admitting that I have no idea who this woman is. The back of my neck starts to itch.
“Tessa,” she says, and I nod as my eyes drop to her name tag and she realizes I already know that. “Beck’s girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Oh.
Something that feels like shock and surprise lands heavy in my gut.
Not at the fact that Beck has a girlfriend–he is arguably one of the most attractive men in Sage Valley.
It’s just that… yeah, I guess I’m surprised that Beck has a girlfriend.
He’s so closed off. Stoney. Prickly. I try to imagine him in a relationship, talking about feelings and being affectionate and my mind is blank.
But if Beck was going to have a girlfriend, I’m not surprised he’d go for someone like Tessa. She’s so nice. Soft-spoken. Sweet. I bet they never argue. I bet she never says things she doesn’t mean. I doubt Tessa has opinions that oppose Beck’s.
“You’re staying at the ranch?” Tessa bags my oat milk and my can of chickpeas. “I heard you’ve moved into the guest house.”
Beck must have filled her in on this new arrangement. I’m sure he also reassured her that I’m just an old family friend and that the deal is strictly professional.
I nod, keeping my expression open and neutral. “Yep. I’m doing a bit of consulting for Beck as a favour.”
“That explains the Biscoff cookies,” Tessa chuckles. “I keep telling Wade he should ease up, that it isn’t helping his health issues.”
I give Tessa a tight-lipped smile. Of course she concerns herself with Wade’s health issues. She probably cooks for him when she stays there. I bet she makes fresh salads from the garden with lightly seasoned salmon and all kinds of delicious, heart healthy foods.
The thought never even crossed my mind that Wade probably shouldn’t be having Biscoff cookies dipped in whiskey.
“Gotta have some enjoyment in life,” I say. I try to keep my tone light, but even I can hear the hint of jealousy in my voice.
“Of course.” Tessa smiles again, warm and genuine, as I pick up the brown paper grocery bag and turn to leave.
The hot, burning feeling in my gut that I haven’t been able to place since running into Tessa at Foodmart is finally starting to subside as I pull into the drive of Wild Sage.
I stop in front of the main house to see if Wade is there, and muffled footsteps shuffle around when I knock on the heavy wooden door. After some time, Wade swings it open.
“Morning, Wade,” I greet him with a smile.
“Mornin’ sunshine’,” he says, his weathered face wrinkling as he smiles back. “You’re just the kind of chipper face I needed to see. What a way to start my day.”
I think about how Wade’s reaction contrasts with Beck’s when he saw me out on the lawn. Wade is warm, friendly, and kind. Beck had nothing but disdain behind his eyes as he scowled at me. Still, even the thought of his gaze on me now is enough to make a flush spread across my chest.
I quell the feeling, having a better understanding of Beck and why he might want to keep his distance from me. Even though Tessa didn’t strike me as the jealous type, I’m sure Beck is mindful of how the rumour mill will turn once the town catches wind of me staying on the ranch.
I hold up the grocery bag. “Then you’ll be even more pleased at what I’ve brought you.”
His face lights up when I pull out the package of cookies and he takes them from me.
“You shouldn’t have,” he says.
“I wanted to,” I answer. “Besides, I was the one who ate them all the other night.”
“Happy to share.” Wade looks at me with a furrowed brow and gestures toward the other things in my cloth tote bag. “I meant you shouldn’t have gone to the store. We have everything here, and you’re welcome to help yourself. Why don’t you come by the house for breakfast tomorrow?”
I wave off his offer. “Nah. I’m not here to impose. Thank you, though.”
I don’t exactly want a repeat of the other night, where Beck was clearly put out by the fact that I was in his house.
“It’s not an imposition. It’s the least we can do for having you here to help,” Wade says, clearly unaware of the tension between me and his son. “Come for coffee tomorrow morning, I’ll make you some breakfast. I’d rather start my day talking to you than staring at Beck’s grumpy mug.”
I don’t want to disappoint him, or make him feel like I don’t want to spend time with him, so I give in and agree to stop by in the morning.
If I time it right, Beck might have already left to start his ranch duties, and I can also avoid his grumpy, stupidly handsome mug.