Chapter 17
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The gate swings shut behind me, the metal clanging over the sound of hooves hitting the snow. My grandfather comes to a stop a few feet back, a bulky midnight-black horse beneath him that I’d recognize anywhere as Kip.
Despite his age, Grandpa is the head of the ranch, and he intends to keep that position until he isn’t physically able to any longer.
I’ve never understood his love for this place, his obsession with it.
We were both born into the life of cattle ranching, but he feels like it’s what he was meant to do. I don’t. I never have.
Horses were more my thing when I was young.
From sun-up to sundown, I was in the stables with my mother either brushing manes or fixing my saddle to go for a ride.
My mother was just like me. It might have been her blood right to take over for Grandpa, but she wanted nothing to do with this life or the expectations that came with it.
When she married and got pregnant with me, there was finally hope that the Steele legacy wouldn’t die with my grandfather.
My father was taught everything there was to know about cattle ranching, and he got along with my grandfather fine.
He loved my mother deeply and took the brunt of everything for her. For us.
The break allowed me to spend more time with my mom in the stables. Days, weeks, years. It was me and her and our horses.
Until it wasn’t.
Until I lost both my mother and father within the span of a single year. The trip down memory lane is unwanted, but it’s been happening more and more since I got back.
“Renner is broken down along on the far west fence. Need you to go bring him back before we can send a tow out,” Grandpa orders stiffly.
I wipe my gloves down my thighs and drop the locking mechanism over the gate. “Alright. I’ll grab my truck.”
His lips thin. “Be faster if you jumped on a horse. We don’t have time to waste around here with a man down.”
“I’ll get my truck,” I repeat.
Tension stiffens my muscles. He’s been pressuring me to get onto a horse since I got back. If he’s so against wasting time, he should drop the whole thing.
He must realize that now’s not the time because he nods sharply and tightens Kip’s reins. “Get it done and be at the house for dinner. Your grandmother misses you.”
“I’ll be late. I have plans before dinner.”
“Aren’t those studio folk getting bored hanging around this town yet?
Either go back with them, or tell them to leave so you can get back to work.
Don’t hurt your grandmother’s feelin’s by missin’ another one of her meals, Brody.
” His words soften at the mention of my grandmother, and guilt slashes me.
“Can you ask her to wait for me? I’ll be half an hour late. This isn’t something I can cancel, but I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promise.
If my grandmother knew I’ve been late to every meal this week because I’m fulfilling a promise to a woman, she’d be the one to shove me out the door. Her husband, on the other hand? I don’t know what he would do.
“Get Renner. I’ll see you later,” he says, and then he’s urging Kip into a trot toward the house.
My exhale is heavy with frustration, but I start toward the house regardless. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can take a break from this place and the reminders of a past that can’t seem to let me be.
Banana: Are you busy right now?
I put the truck in park and wait for Renner to hop out before replying to her text.
Me: I’m never too busy to talk to you.
The drive back from picking up my grandfather’s oldest ranch hand was filled with a lot of awkward conversation.
We don’t know each other well at all, and while he may work for the Steele family, he’s my grandfather’s friend before anything else.
His opinion is tainted by whatever it is my grandfather is holding against me.
Banana: That phone call I mentioned before . . . I have a few minutes to talk now.
My eyes bulge as I read the message. The ranch house is in front of me, the lights warm and bright. My grandmother is inside, no doubt already working on dinner. I have to leave to pick Anna up from work, but . . .
I’m calling Banana and connecting her to the Bluetooth in my truck before I’ve even made it out of the driveway. Nerves buzz beneath my skin, but I don’t back out. This is my friend.
“Hello?”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel at the sound of her voice. Her very female voice. If I was unsure that she might have actually been a man this whole time, I’m not anymore.
I clear my throat and say, “Hey.”
She blows out a breath, and I do the same.
“You sound young,” she notes.
“Disappointed I’m not old and creepy?”
“You could still be creepy.”
“Fair enough.”
The road back to town from the ranch is gravel. It’s a bit hard to drive on with the amount of snow we’ve been getting, so I try and keep my mind focused on the road and not the soft voice in my speakers.
It’s a difficult task, especially when she says, “I was expecting you to sound more hillbilly, to be honest.”
“Hillbilly?” I roll my lips before the tug up into a grin. “Sorry to disappoint ya, darlin’.”
Her laugh is too fucking sweet. And almost . . . familiar. The slight increase in pitch at the end tugs at my brain. I want to chastise myself for not remembering where I last heard it.
“Now, that’s more like it,” she says.
I notice how close I am to turning into town and slow my speed slightly. Checking my rear-view mirror, I confirm there’s nobody behind me to complain about it.
“Wanna tell me why you wanted to talk right now?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“It’s one of those days. I’ve been a bit cranky and figured that talking to you might help.”
My chest tightens. “That was a bit of a risk. What if I’d been someone you weren’t expecting and I made your day worse?”
“It was worth it,” she states confidently.
“I agree.”
I turn into town and get hit with a mix of feelings. I’m . . . excited to see Anna. To see her smile and listen to whatever she wants to talk about. But at the same time, I want to continue this phone call. Is that messed up? Fuck, I can’t even tell anymore.
“I have to go soon, but thank you for calling. Even if it was only for a couple minutes. You always help when I’m feeling down,” she admits.
I swallow. “You can call me whenever you want. You’re in Canada, right?” Close to me too. “There was no long-distance warnin’ when I called.”
“I am. So are you, then. I figured with the area codes, but wow. I want to ask where in Canada you are, but I don’t want to sound creepy.”
“Creepy is supposed to be my thing.”
“You should ask, then.” It’s a dare, and I haven’t backed down from a dare since high school.
“Alberta.”
Her sharp inhale is all I need to know, but she still replies, “Alberta for me too. Now anyway.”
“Now?”
“I’m originally from Vancouver.”
The truck jerks when I accidentally press hard on the brake. My tires lock up on the icy road, and I bark a curse while releasing the brake and finally gaining control of the truck again. My pulse thumps in my throat as I carefully pull onto Main Street.
It’s just an eery coincidence. Don’t think too much into it.
“Are you okay?” she rushes out, panicked.
My reply is weak, confusion distracting me. “I’m fine. I have to go, but I’ll text you later.”
“I—alright. We’ll talk later.”
“Bye, Banana,” I mutter.
“Bye, Bo,” she replies, and then our call drops.
I try to ignore the worry in those final two words as I park in front of the salon and stare at the window, still bright with light. When Anna glides into view, I can’t look away.
Instead of having her hair tied back like it was this morning, it’s hanging free down her back.
I haven’t seen much of her body beneath her bulky jackets, but I wasn’t expecting the sight of her without one to leave me so breathless.
She’s wearing a tight grey long-sleeve that emphasizes the curves of her waist and generous chest. Generous is an understatement.
I’ve never looked before, and maybe that’s a good thing.
It’s hard to drop my gaze, but once I do, I feel my cheeks burn.
The twitch of my dick in my jeans makes me feel like a perv. I knew she was gorgeous, but I didn’t know she was like that everywhere . I won’t be able to forget that fact now that I know it.
She steps out of view, and the lights go out.
My throat works with a thick swallow as I wait for her to lock up.
On instinct, I’m out of the truck and rounding the hood at the same time she starts heading toward me.
As if accepting that I’m going to open the door for her every time, she smiles at me and waits for me to do just that.
“Thank you,” she says, accepting the gesture.
“’Course.”
I step up behind her, lingering as she pushes herself up and into the truck. Once she’s settled, I shut the door and try to steady my steps on the way back to my side.
She’s skipping through the songs on the screen when I’m back behind the wheel. A swirl of discomfort moves through my stomach when the opening notes of my latest song fill the speakers. A brow quirked, Anna looks at me from the corner of her eye, as if testing my reaction to the song choice.
“I’m going to guess from that look that you don’t listen to your own music?”
“Not unless I’m singin’ it,” I answer honestly.
Interest flares in her eyes as she stares at me head-on. “Would you ever sing for me?”
I sling my arm over the back of her seat and look over my shoulder while reversing the truck out of the parking spot. The sherpa collar of her jacket tickles my fingers. I stroke the pad of my finger over it, feeling the heat radiating from her neck.
“I keep forgetting that you like my music.”
“I doubt many people don’t like your music, Brody.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I pull onto the road, the ice still slick beneath my tires.
Anna’s breath hitches when we fishtail slightly.
Before I can think twice about it, I’m shooting my arm out and placing my hand on her thigh, gripping it tight.
I meant it to be reassuring, calming, but when she stops breathing altogether, I snatch my hand back, the warmth of her leg burning my palm.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, twisting the leather steering wheel over and over again.
Her exhale is shaky, but at least she’s breathing now. “It’s fine! I just wasn’t expecting that.”
Me either. “I don’t go around touching women without their permission. It won’t happen again.”
“I was more concerned about the ice.”
“Oh.”
Her laugh is smooth before climbing in pitch at the end the way it always does. It’s a soothing sound, at least for me.
“I’m a good driver. I won’t let anything happen to?—”
That laugh.
My promise dies in my throat. I want to look at her. Want to ask her to pull out her phone and show me her messages. But I’m not going to do that. Fuck, that’s an asshole thing to even consider.
How many women have similar laughs? And moved from British Columbia to Alberta recently? Anna Banana? I’m ashamed that I didn’t put that one together.
God, even her body makes it all that clearer. I don’t remember details from that single accidental photo, but I remember seeing curves and pale skin. And the memory of Anna in the window earlier is as crystal clear as ever.
It’s obvious now.
Anna is my mystery woman.