4. Sage
SAGE
My eyes open before my alarm goes off. Maybe it’s the unfamiliar bed, or maybe it’s the nerves of starting a job unlike anything I’ve done before. Either way, I’m awake, if a little groggy.
It’s when I stumble into the kitchenette that I discover a problem. A short, frantic search confirms it. I find an ancient-looking French press with its glass stained brown at the back of a cupboard, but even if I wanted to use it, there’s no coffee.
I groan. The last thing I need is to be caffeine-deprived on my first day. As tempting as it is to crawl back under the covers, I square my shoulders and return to the bedroom.
After stripping off my pajamas, I peel the bandages from my knees and check them. Not too bad. I shower quickly, then find the first-aid kit under the sink and apply fresh bandages. It may be overkill, but I’d rather not bleed through my clothes on the day I meet my new employer.
With my towel wrapped around me, I stand in front of the open wardrobe, considering what to wear.
In New York, I usually wore sleek pantsuits and tailored dresses—clothes Graham said reflected his and the gallery’s style.
I happily donated most of them after the breakup, keeping only a few of my most comfortable outfits.
But when I took this job, I knew I’d need more than yoga pants and crop tops.
I searched online for women’s ranch outfits and ordered what seemed to be the essentials: jeans and denim shorts, a handful of shirts in pretty colors and patterns, and hiking boots.
I nearly bought a cute pair of cowboy boots as well, but decided against it at the last minute.
I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.
This morning, I decide on a pale-blue long-sleeved shirt and pair it with jeans. Once I’ve shimmied into the stiff denim, buttoned my shirt, and laced up my boots, I return to the wardrobe to check my reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.
I frown. The outfit looks nice enough, but everything feels too new and constricting. I should have broken in my clothes and boots before I came, but I didn’t have much time between accepting this job and leaving New York. I didn’t expect to feel this uncomfortable, either.
Or maybe that’s because I thought I’d have Mia for moral support. Too late to do anything about it now.
The knock I’ve been waiting for comes while I’m doing half-squats at the foot of my bed in an effort to loosen the denim. With one last glance at my reflection and ignoring the twist in my stomach, I head for the front of the cabin, snagging my camera bag on the way.
As soon as I swing the door open, my gaze lands on Holden. He’s leaning against the porch railing, his tanned arms crossed, the sleeves of his black T-shirt straining across his biceps. The same dark brown cowboy hat he wore last night is pulled low over his eyes.
My hormones immediately perk up and take notice, but I tell them to calm down.
He might be unfairly good-looking, but the way his cool gaze sweeps over me from head to toe has me self-consciously brushing my hands over my denim-clad thighs.
He’s wearing jeans. I’m wearing jeans. Why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong?
He straightens. “You ready?” he asks, as brusque as he was last night.
I inhale deeply, determined not to let this day get off to a rougher start than it already has. “As I’ll ever be.” I give him a bright smile, another attempt to be friendly.
His attention cuts to my mouth for a moment, but he only jerks his head toward his truck before striding off.
I narrow my eyes at his broad back, tempted to stick out my tongue. Then I remember I’m an adult, so I reluctantly follow.
He surprises me by stopping to open the passenger-side door for me.
Taking a page from his book, I merely give him a polite nod as I breeze past. But this close to him, I’m inundated with his scent—soap and something else. Something fresh and wild that makes me want to close my eyes and breathe it in more deeply.
Rather than doing something as creepy as that, I boost myself into the cab and wait for Holden to climb in on the other side.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask him once we’re on our way.
He shoots me a glance. “About the same as usual.”
I wait to see if he’ll ask me the same question. He doesn’t. He just focuses back on the gravel road ahead.
Fine. It’s time to fight fire with fire. Or ice with fire, in this case.
“Well, it took me a little while to fall asleep.” I make my voice annoyingly perky. “But once I did, I was out like a light. Thanks for asking.” The smile I give him has extra sparkle.
The look he shoots me in return is what you might call disconcerted. “Good to hear.”
I barely keep my smile from sliding into a smirk. Maybe I’ve found a way to get under his skin without compromising my professionalism.
With my hands folded primly in my lap, I keep going. “Of course, finding out there was no coffee was a bit of a shock to the system. But I’m sure the fresh country air will wake me up just as well.”
He mutters something I assume is unflattering under his breath and rubs his hand over his stubbled chin. The rasp of his palm against the stubble does absolutely nothing to make him less attractive. Dammit. Why does he have to be so obnoxious and so attractive at the same time?
A moment later, the trees around us open up, and the valley unfolds before us like a panoramic photo.
My breath catches.
When we drove through last night, it was too dark to make out the scenery, but today, with the sun up, I’m treated to its full splendor.
The sky overhead is a pale-blue vault, so cloudless it’s almost impossible to believe a storm raged here overnight.
Fields stretch out in front of us like a sea of green and gold, dotted with patches of colorful wildflowers.
Farther away, a herd of cows grazes near a river that shimmers silver-blue in the misty morning light.
Beyond them, the fields give way to pine-covered foothills similar to the ones we’ve just driven through, with rugged mountain peaks soaring into the sky, still frosted with snow despite it being spring.
For someone more accustomed to cityscapes and sidewalk traffic, the sheer expanse of the earth laid out before me is almost too much. Too big. Too wild. The sky alone seems like it could swallow Manhattan whole. There’s something truly heart-stopping about it.
Without even thinking to ask, I press the button to lower the window.
The cool air that rushes in is clean and earthy, filled with the woodsy aroma of pine trees and the subtle floral scent of wildflowers. I fill my lungs with it. “It’s stunning.”
“It is,” Holden replies.
Only then do I realize I’ve spoken out loud. Tearing myself away from the world outside, I study him. Other than when he was treating my wounds, this is the first time he’s spoken to me without that edge of irritation.
His attention is fixed on the land in front of us, but the tightness of his jaw doesn’t match his words.
He must love living here, mustn’t he?
With his sun-browned forearms, a jaw roughened by stubble, and worn but well-fitting jeans, he looks like someone who belongs in a place like this.
He’s nothing like the well-groomed, urbane men I’m used to dealing with.
He’s not polite. Not refined.
Not Graham.
With a quiet exhale, I turn away. I need to concentrate on my job, on proving myself, not on how attractive my reluctant neighbor is.
Instead, I focus on the buildings we’re approaching.
Ahead of us is what must be the main ranch house. Set on a small rise overlooking the valley, it’s two stories of wood and stone, with a wide front porch.
Although it’s big, it’s not the least bit sleek or modern. It looks… warm. Large windows catch the morning sun, a wide stone chimney caps one end, and a swing seat hangs from the ceiling of the porch, practically inviting me to sit.
Past it are several long barns and smaller buildings whose functions I can only guess at.
Holden pulls up outside the house, jams the truck into park, and gets out. I linger for a moment. What kind of family lives in a home like this? One that’s very different from mine, I imagine.
With a deep breath, I reach for the handle, only to have the door open before I can do it myself.
Holden stands there, eyes fixed on me. “Wanted to make sure I don’t have to patch you up again.”
I purse my lips before flashing him the wide smile I hope annoys him. “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson last night.”
He steps back, and I carefully climb out, watching my feet this time before stretching back in for my camera bag. By the time I close the door and turn around, Holden’s already stomping up the stairs to the house.
God, this guy really can’t decide whether he’s a gentleman or not.
Taking my time, I trail behind him, absorbing every detail. When I reach the porch, I turn to take in the view of the valley.
Beautiful.
With a deep sigh of appreciation, I unzip my bag and pull out my camera.
A quick glance at the horizon tells me the sun’s angle.
Peering through the viewfinder, I make a few careful adjustments, chasing the strongest composition.
The green pastures anchor the foreground, and the river draws the eye toward the darker, tree-covered foothills and lower mountains, while the rocky, snow-tipped peaks and the sky fill the upper third of the frame.
This early, the light is still soft and warm, and the long shadows add a touch of drama to the composition. I take the shot, then check the screen. Perfect. Getting people to fall in love with this place won’t be difficult. The challenge might be narrowing the selection of photos.
Excitement sparks through me, and I smile as I turn toward the house.
Holden is watching from the open front door. Those blue eyes of his are locked on me with enough intensity to send a little sizzle across my skin.
To mask my sudden awareness, I fiddle with my camera settings. “Is it okay for us to just walk in?”