Chapter 5
five
. . .
brOCK
Three days. That's how long it took me to figure out I couldn't shake her.
After the second morning, she quit showing up at five.
I figured that was the end of it. Then Wednesday at 7:30, I heard boots crunching gravel.
By Friday, she knew my whole damn route.
So I switched it up and started at the north ridge, where the cell signal's dead and the only company is antelope that spook if you breathe wrong.
I didn't ask how she found me. She showed up anyway, her phone in one hand, a thermos in the other, and a pair of boots Wren must've talked her into.
Those two had gotten tight fast. Going on trips to town, coming back with bags, and now they had some silent agreement to gang up on me.
Two days before the Cody rodeo, I was in the tack room fixing a busted cinch when she walked in. She had a neon pink can tucked under her arm.
"What's that?" I asked.
She held it up. It was an Outlaw energy drink.
"Your sponsor sent a case. Wren said you'd throw them out, so I grabbed one. You don't like them?"
I pulled the strap through the buckle. "It tastes like cough syrup with bubbles."
"That's the old flavor. This is cherry-lime. They want a fifteen-second clip of you drinking one at Cody. Figured you might want to know what it tastes like before you have to pretend to love it on camera."
She popped the tab and held the can out to me. “Try it.”
“You first.”
She raised an eyebrow, but she took a long sip.
“See?” She pushed it toward me. “Not dead yet.”
I took the can and downed half of it in one go. It was sweet, fake, and cold going down. Not terrible, but not good either.
“Tastes like someone melted gummy bears in a Sprite.”
She chuckled. “We might need to work on that, in case they ask you at Cody.”
“If they ask me, I’ll tell ‘em I drink coffee like a normal man.”
“Please don’t.”
It was a bluff. Outlaw paid me good money, and they'd cover my expenses if I made it to Vegas. But I wasn't about to admit that out loud.
She shook her head, but she was smiling. She had a good smile. I wished she'd quit using it on me.
She turned toward the door and paused, her hand on the frame. "Try to look somewhat happy when you drink it on camera."
I dropped my eyes back to the cinch strap, figuring that was the end of it. I didn't even get the buckle threaded before a sharp yelp echoed outside, followed by a muttered curse. A horse blew hard in one of the stalls.
I was on my feet before I'd decided to move. She backed into the doorway, swatting wildly at her shoulder.
"What?" I asked.
"A bee," she choked out. She took another step back, almost tripping.
I moved closer. Sure enough, a fat yellow jacket was circling her head.
“Oh god. No. No no no.”
“Don’t move.”
“It’s on me. Brock, it’s—”
She turned her head, her eyes wide.
“Stay still, it’ll fly off—”
“I can’t—please get it away from me—”
Her voice cracked hard on the last word.
I crossed the gap, close enough to catch that damn perfume again. I put myself between her and the wasp, blocking its path. It veered off my shoulder, and I swiped it with the back of my hand, sending it spinning into the shadows under the shelves.
“Gone,” I said.
Frozen in place, she squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing coming in quick, shallow bursts. One hand was clamped around her opposite wrist.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey. It’s gone. Look at me.”
Those brown eyes snapped open, glassy and searching mine, like she needed proof.
She loosened the grip on her arm. Red marks from her nails were already fading on her skin.
"I'm terrified of bees." The words barely scraped past her throat. "Since I was a kid."
Her breathing hitched again, and I realized my hand was still on her shoulder. I pulled it back quick and took a step away, heat burning the back of my neck.
"You're fine," I said. "But you gotta stop wearing that perfume out here."
Her spine straightened, and that stubborn look came back over her face. “Why? You don’t like it?”
Oh, I liked it. Liked it way too much. She smelled like warm skin and something sweet that’d been driving me crazy for the last week. I wanted to back her up against the wall and find out if she tasted half as good as she smelled.
“Doesn’t matter if I like it, Starlin’. The yellow jackets do. They think you’re breakfast. You smell like a goddamn flower bed out here."
“Well, that’s a shame.” Her voice had gone cold. “Because I made it.”
"You made it?"
“Yeah. It’s just a hobby.” She said the word like it left a bad taste.
I stared at her. She’d made that scent, the one that had been messing with my head for days. I wanted to ask a dozen questions, but I shut that shit down fast. I couldn’t afford to care about her hobbies. She’d be gone in a few weeks anyway.
I turned my back so I didn’t have to look at her mouth anymore. "Well, keep your hobby in the house. I won’t always be around to swat wasps off you."
Behind me, she let out a sharp, frustrated breath. Good. I needed the distance before I had to be stuck with her all day at Cody. Fortunately, I only had to see her at dinner, and she didn't speak to me at all.
The silence between us followed me into the next day.
The temperature plummeted hard during the afternoon. Colt and I were out by the tool shed when the first gust hit, smelling of rain and kicked-up dust. The blue sky bruised dark in the distance.
"Here it comes," Colt said.
We ran for the house as the sky opened up. Rain came down in sheets, hammering the shingles, and we hit the mudroom soaked.
Wren came in from the kitchen, frowning. "Have you seen Sienna?"
"No," I said. "Why?"
"She went for a walk about an hour ago, toward the gate." Her eyes flicked to the open screen door, where rain was slanting sideways. "She should've been back by now."
Colt grabbed his hat off the hook. "She shouldn't be far."
I was already at the door. "Wren, you and Colt check the barn and near the greenhouse. I'll take the truck down the driveway."
Rain hit me like a wall as I stepped outside. The truck was only ten feet away, but I climbed inside drenched all over again. The windshield was a blur even with the wipers on high.
I threw the truck into gear and headed down the driveway. It was a mess of puddles swallowing the ruts. I drove slow, scanning the treeline, the ditch, the road ahead. Nothing.
Stupid, taking a walk with a sky like that. Didn't she have any sense?
I hit the gas a little harder. Muck sprayed up behind the tires.
I found her standing at the edge of the washout ditch, staring at it with her back to me, rain plastering her hair down.
I cut the engine and got out. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
She turned. "There's a calf stuck."
I looked past her. A small calf, maybe four months old, hip-deep in mud at the bottom of the washout. Bawling, legs churning uselessly.
"Get in the truck," I said.
I grabbed the rope from the back of my truck and walked to the edge. It was slick and crumbling under the downpour. The calf was thrashing down in the washout, sinking deeper every time it lunged. I built a loop, swung it once, and threw it clean around the calf's chest, pulling the slack tight.
Then the rope jerked behind me. I turned to find Sienna had taken hold of it too. Her white blouse clung to her skin, her chest, practically transparent in the rain, and I damn near lost my grip on the rope.
I forced my eyes back to the calf. "I didn't ask you to help."
"I want to. I'll pull too."
"I can do it alone—"
"Brock. Pull."
We pulled. The calf kicked, spraying us with wet clay. Sienna planted her boots and leaned back on the rope. Her arms strained, shaking with the effort, but she didn't let up.
The calf lurched and pulled us off balance. On the second try, we hauled it over the ridge. I stepped in to pop the loop loose before it bolted. It scrambled off into the brush, leaving us standing there, breathing hard.
Water streamed down her face, her hair wrecked and her clothes destroyed.
"Hope you didn't like that shirt," I said.
She looked down at the mess on her chest and grinned. "It's dry-clean only."
Then, she started laughing. A big, whole-body laugh that had her shoulders shaking.
"You're insane," I said.
“That's one of the nicest things you've said to me."
"I'll aim lower tomorrow."
The truck was still running. We climbed in, both of us dripping mud onto the seats. I turned on the heater, and the cab filled with the smell of wet earth. We drove in silence until she let her head fall back against the seat with a long breath.
"Sky was dark for an hour before the rain hit," I said. "You always go wandering off when it looks like a flash flood's coming?"
She looked out the window. "I had a video call with my boss before the storm. It didn't go great, so I went for a walk. Thought I had time."
A boss telling me what to do was something I'd never been able to imagine. That was exactly why I worked for myself. Some friends had tried to set me up with an agent once, but I always said no. I didn't need anyone else calling the shots.
The wipers thumped back and forth. Gravel crunched under the tires as I took the bend.
"Can I ask you something?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Depends.”
“Why do you let them treat you like that?”
"Excuse me?"
"Your company canceled your hotel last minute and stuck you on the ranch. But you're good at what you do. Handled me just fine, and I'm not easy. So why put up with it?"
She stayed quiet a moment.
“My sister wants to get into med school. I cover a big chunk of her tuition so she doesn’t have to get a job while studying. That’s why.”
I stared out the windshield, at my home in the distance.
"Yeah. I get that."
And I did. Rodeo checks kept the hay truck running and the vet bills paid. I’d ride in Cody even if my arm was hanging off, because winning was the only way to stay ahead of the debt and keep the ranch afloat.
The image flashed clear as day—a heavy chain on the front gate and some developer’s bulldozer sitting where Mom’s greenhouse used to be.
I gripped the steering wheel tight, shoving the image away. I’d break every bone in my body before I let strangers take our land.
When we finally pulled up to the house and I killed the engine, the storm had faded to a soft patter on the roof.
Before either of us could speak, a blur of black and white bounded off the porch, splashing through a massive muddy puddle.
Moose hit the side of the truck, barking wildly, his front paws slapping against the passenger window.
I sighed and leaned my head against the headrest. "Great. Now he's covered in it too."
Moose was wagging his whole body, looking as wrecked as I felt.
I turned to Sienna. Her hair was plastered to her skull, face streaked with red clay.
"You should shower first," I said. "You look like hell."
"You really know how to make a woman feel special."
I shrugged. "I just watched you pull a calf out of a ditch. You don’t need me to make you feel special."
That pulled a tired laugh out of her. She climbed out and headed for the house. Moose gave one last bark, shook a spray of brown water across my truck door, and trotted up the stairs behind her.
I sat in the truck for another minute, the rain drumming the roof until it slowed to nothing.
I was supposed to be running her off, not hauling calves with her. Not noticing she was funny, or tough.
Cody was tomorrow. I needed my head on straight. Couldn’t afford to start wanting her to stay.