CHAPTER 6
I was thirteen again. Summer stretched far, far ahead, responsibility and exams in the same category as the horizon. Visible, but out of reach. Just a concept in the back of my mind, nothing to worry about, not yet.
But Lil . . . I worried about her. The atmosphere was strange this time – I’d noticed it as soon as we arrived: clear strain on Aunt Carrie’s face, Uncle John nowhere in sight.
‘There’s something going on,’ Lil had whispered as we snuck into her room and closed the door, my heart leaping despite the concern.
The exposed logs of the ranch house, a rich conker-brown, dominated the room.
Despite the touches applied by any teenager – posters, clothes strewn haphazardly, make-up and jewellery randomly dotting most surfaces – it was undeniably western.
From the carved wooden bedframe to the intricate, colourful patterns on the Shoshone-made quilt and the building collection of cowboy hats, in my mind, we could only be in Wyoming.
‘They’ve been arguing non-stop. I think they’re getting a divorce. ’
It was the only time I’d really seen her cry. There was a pinched tiredness around her eyes, and her freckles were dulled in her wan complexion. We held each other on the edge of her bed, me trying to find any words to make a salve. None came.
Instead, all I could think of was how it might affect our trips out here, realizing just how much I needed and looked forward to them. Lil was my de facto older sister, and this ranch a safe place, away from the demands of home.
Now, the selfish nature of those long-ago thoughts curdled in my gut. My conscience forced me awake, rapping on the side of my head for attention.
Groaning, I blinked at the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, a few confused seconds of trying to figure out where the hell I was. Then, like a dam lifting, the events of yesterday rushed through my mind.
There had been a lot of crying, mine this time, with Lil holding my hand throughout as we sat at the heirloom kitchen table together, knees bumping. I gripped steaming coffee in my free hand as my stilted explanations and recounted events of the last few days pooled in the space between us.
Lil had sworn on my behalf, cursed Kyle to the pits of hell and back and most importantly, thankfully, had absolutely backed my spur-of-the-moment decision to visit.
Still, my conscience pricked, guilt needling me at Lil being there for me in a way I hadn’t been for her. At us losing touch at the worst time of her life.
Wait . . . was someone knocking on my door?
Startled, I sat up. The knocking sound filtering through the edges of my reverie wasn’t just my guilty conscience. Someone was making a total racket, near my window.
I checked my phone, now adjusted to US time. 7 a.m.
Seriously?
Falling back onto my pillow, I shut my eyes. A reprieve in the noise meant silence fell over the ranch again and I tried to quiet my mind.
Knock. Knock, Knock.
I shot up again, tiredness turning to irritation. Didn’t they know it was early? As well as me, weren’t there guests here, paying ones, that wouldn’t appreciate this?
Unable to stifle my curiosity, I pulled back the curtain and peered out, but the spruce beyond was the only thing in view.
As I turned back to the room, the sound echoed again and this time, irritation now pulling on my temper, I marched out of the room and down the hall towards the back door.
There was no sign of Lil anywhere, but the boots she’d been wearing yesterday were gone from the rack.
I yanked open the door, a blast of mountain air taking my breath away. Crossing my arms over my thin T-shirt, suddenly very aware of my short-shorts PJ s, I stepped out, committed to my indignation.
Striding barefoot over the wide deck curving around the back corner of the house, heading straight for the source of the noise, as I emerged into the bright morning sun, I stopped in my tracks.
Ahead of me was the small red barn, logs stacked against the side in neat piles. But in front of that was a sight I didn’t quite have words for. Where the cold air had taken my breath, what stood before me just about stilled my heart itself.
Just a few metres away was a man with his back to me, a topless man, swinging a large axe round in an arc, his long, muscled arms bringing it down onto the log in front of him.
The wood cracked in two, falling either side of the tree stump it had been resting on. Before I could turn and run, mouth half open like a gawping fish, he turned to me.
He was covered in a sheen of sweat, and lean, hard muscle flexed as he leant on the axe.
Standard-issue blue jeans, black boots and a chestnut brown hat failed to distract attention from his broad chest and shoulders, and arms that’d lift someone like me without any effort.
To my horror, I felt a blush creeping across my face and as I tried to gather myself and refrain from outright ogling, he turned.
We locked eyes.
HOLY FUCK .
Cole.
The cowboy from the bar.
His eyes widened, mirroring my own as we just stared, neither of us able to make a sound.
‘But . . . I . . . you,’ was all he managed, but it was enough.
Goosebumps broke out across my arms and legs, but once again, I knew it wasn’t the cold air.
‘You always do that this early?’ I blurted, my initial irritation tempered by shock.
His face remained still, other than the ghost of a smile and a fraction of movement from one eyebrow as it rose.
‘Well now, only when I need to top up my tan in the morning sun.’ Any other words gathered in my mouth dried up. He lowered his gaze slowly, briefly resting on my chest, before inching slowly down my legs. ‘Seems we had the same idea.’
I glanced down, realizing that both my tee and shorts were fairly transparent in the bright sunlight, and more than that, despite my crossed arms, my chest was standing fully to attention in the chill air.
Fuuuck.
‘Oh, hey Lottie, you’re awake! And you’ve met Cole? He’s my ranch manager.’
Lil emerged from the direction of the barn, brushing straw from her jeans. As the silence stretched between us, she glanced more closely at me.
‘Oh, sweetie, you’re going to catch your death in that! Help yourself to anything in my room. It might be a bit big for you, but it’s better than freezing to death out here.’
Cole dipped his head and turned to Lil, seemingly recovering himself.
‘Friend of yours?’ he drawled, the picture of casual innocence, tucking a thumb into the waistband of his jeans. I tried and failed not to watch as it inched below his belt.
‘My cousin, from London,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘Did he wake you? I’m sorry, darling, we start early most days. But you go on back to bed if you like, I know you must be dog-tired. I’m gonna start on breakfast, though, if you want some? Pancakes and such?’
She carried on walking around to the front of the house, leaving the two of us in the same charged silence as before.
Before I could embarrass myself further, I turned to walk away, but not before catching a last look from under his hat. His eyes seemed to burn into mine, as if asking a question. Before he could vocalize it, I disappeared inside.
Dignity in shreds, back in my room I started pulling my clothes on with unnecessary aggression. Embarrassment coursed through me, my heart still thudding, as the feel of his eyes on my body replayed in my mind.
I pulled out one of the new sweaters, a deep blue with a cream tribal print across the front and back, tucking the front into the jeans and doing up my belt.
I scraped my chaos of curls back into a low bun and settled my expression into corporate blankness.
I might have to face him again, but I would do it with clothes on and a poker face even Cressida would approve of.
As I groaned at the sheer cringe of it all, my bruised ego also reminded me of the mess the last hot guy had caused.
I hesitated, seized by a sudden urge to call Hestia and fill her in, relive the last ten minutes and listen to her reaction.
No doubt she’d tell me to jump him and be done with it, but even if he hadn’t worked for Lil, there was still the small matter of dumping Kyle.
There were no messages on my phone, but that was bang on trend for when the US ‘client’ was in town.
I made the time difference calculation: just after 2 p.m. He’d be in the middle of work. It’d have to wait until later.
As I wound my way down to the kitchen-diner, contemplating just how to deal with Kyle, I heard the sound of voices and laughter.
‘There she is,’ Lil exclaimed, holding a spatula up in the air, hair tucked into her shirt collar as she leant over the big steel stove. ‘Take a seat over there – Jesse, scooch over, will you? Lottie – you met Jesse last night, and that’s Bailey.’
Both smiled, Bailey shooting up and holding out her hand.
‘Well, howdy – it sure is nice to meet some of Lil’s family at last!’
She was my height, 5’5” at a push, but stocky where I was willowy. She had the build of a gymnast and the handshake of a bodybuilder, and her smile was as white as her eyes were green. A thick auburn braid hung over her shoulder.
‘Hey,’ I said shyly. Then to Jesse, who was watching with a mischievous smile in the background, ‘I promise I’m not normally a crier. Yesterday was a bitch.’
Bailey laughed, clapping me on the back and guiding me to Jesse’s side of the table, a long bench in front of a vast dresser, full of family trinkets.