Maisie
. . .
TWENTY
I walk up my front steps alone and thoroughly confused. What the heck was that? How could I be so careless? I let my vagina take control one fucking time, and look where it got me. With my legs wrapped around a handsome cowboy and my tongue down his delicious throat.
I groan, pushing my front door open, only to be assaulted by wailing. Evie runs to my feet, howling at the top of her lungs. I squat, wrapping her in my arms. “Hi, sweet girl.” My hand rubs down her fluffy mane as she begins to purr aggressively. I giggle, squeezing her tighter. “I missed you too.”
It’s late, and I’m exhausted, so I quickly go through my nighttime routine, skipping a few steps, because, honestly, who has time for a seven-step skin care routine? I would much rather prefer my beauty sleep and gremlin reading time.
I’m in bed within minutes, propped up by three pillows, Kindle in hand, a happy cat snuggled against my chest. I try to read, but my thoughts keep wandering.
The last thing I remember before passing out completely is rubbing my lips with my fingers and coming to the conclusion that I didn’t know kisses could feel like that.
“Where the hell was this when I used to visit?” I ask Chesney, squinting my eyes to see through the overgrown brush.
His hands are planted on his hips, looking perplexed. “Clearly buried under all this shit,” he jokes, kicking a blackberry barb away from his leg. “That’s going to change today, though.”
“I signed up for cowboy shit, not gardening,” I tease, knocking my shoulder into his.
I love to give my cousin shit for just about anything.
After the chaos of last night, I woke bright and early, eager to do something to take my mind off Grayson and that life-changing kiss.
I was thankful when I was met by Chesney’s smiling face at The Den this morning, saying he had a job for us and that Grayson would be elsewhere.
Sometimes, the puppet masters are looking out for me, I guess.
We started the day with our usual routine before heading out here. Honestly, this has become one of my favorite times of the day. The ranch is so peaceful in the mornings, and I get to watch the sunrise while getting lost in the work. I only gag half the time now, which is a win in my book.
After we took care of the horses, we ran over to the cow barn, making sure they were set for the day.
Normally, the other ranch hands take care of them, but I told Ches I wanted the full tour.
I know this ranch is now run as a Dude Ranch for recreational purposes, but that doesn’t mean there’s still not a ton of upkeep, especially with all the animals.
The Foxes have horses, cows, chickens for eggs, and even a baby donkey named Frank, who is freaking adorable.
“You can blame your aunt for this,” Chesney hollers over his shoulder, going to collect the tools we brought.
He jogs back, his arms full of sprays and clippers.
“She just had to have the zipline for this season. She wouldn’t be asking for it if she was the one who had to clear all the overgrown brush. ”
It’s mid-May now, which means we are officially two weeks away from opening day.
Then, tourists from all over will stay in one of the cabins on site and get to live out their cowboy dreams. Last I checked, Roxy had a waitlist booked out two years.
The ranch provides unique experiences and local excursions like fishing, horseback riding, horseshoe making…
and now, apparently, ziplining. Roxy is hoping the new addition will entice families to book here.
The long forgotten zipline is buried in blackberry bushes and other thorned vines, making it impossible to get to. Ches and I were tasked with clearing it out today.
I groan, looking over our task and trying to decide where best to start. “Well, we better get started. Divide and conquer?”
Ches gives me knuckles, handing me a large pair of shears and some gloves.
“You’re gonna want to put those on. These things can be feisty.
” He slides a pair of clear safety glasses on before starting up his electric trimmer.
“I’ll hit the heavy brush with this, and you can follow behind and trim anything I miss, and then we’ll hit it with that stuff,” he screams over the roar of his trimmer, pointing down at some weed killer spray.
“Aye, aye, captain!” I salute him, putting on my own safety glasses and following behind Chesney, a close enough distance away so I don’t get hit with flying branches.
We diligently get to work trimming away the nasty growth.
It’s harder than it looks. Every time I whack one branch away, two more spawn in its place.
The sun is starting to set when we finally get through the bulk of it.
The field is cleared out to get a good view of the zipline above that cascades down the natural hilly slope, ending just before the lupine field.
The slope will need a good mowing still, but I’m pretty impressed with the work we’ve done.
“Not too shabby,” Ches says, saddling up to my side to sling an arm over my shoulder. His dirty knuckles dig into the side of my head like he used to do when we were little.
I push him away. “Gross, dude, I can smell you from here,” I tease, pinching my nose. Ches just laughs it off, drawing me in for a side hug.
“Ladies first?”
I’m not following his words until his eyes trail over to the shoddy looking zipline. “Oh, no. No, no, no, not happening. When’s the last time this thing’s been used? It’s probably rotted and broken.”
Ches throws his hand out, unfazed. “Nah, this thing is a beauty. She just needs a little facelift is all.”
“Alright, Mr. Cocky. If you’re so sure of yourself, then you get on it.” My eyebrows lift at him in challenge.
There’s no hesitation in his eyes. “Easy.”
I’m so going to enjoy this.
Chesney runs up the old wooden steps. They groan under his boots until he reaches halfway up the tall red cedar tree.
He straps into the harness and clips himself to the line.
“Watch and learn, baby cuz!” he yells across the field to me, letting out a howl of excitement before free-falling full speed off the platform.
Chesney glides so fast, the line makes a loud buzzing sound.
“WOOHOO!” he screams, throwing his arms out wide, head tipped up to the sky.
I’m smiling along with him—that is, until he gets close to the end, and a loud crack rings out.
The rope starts to splinter, and, in the blink of an eye, the whole thing snaps, launching Chesney into a free fall towards the field below.
Luckily, the zipline tapers down the hill, and he is almost to the end, so he doesn’t have a long way to fall. Still, the distance he falls at the speed he’s going could seriously injure him. Thwak! Chesney grunts when he hits the ground, creating a puff of dust.
Fuck.
“I’m coming,” I yell, cupping my hands to scream louder. I sprint across the field, dropping to my knees beside him to assess the damage. “Where are you hurt?” I’m starting to panic.
“My…pride,” he moans, letting out a deep, pained chuckle.
I slap his chest, making him wince. “Jesus, Ches, you scared the crap out of me.”
“I aim to please.”
I inhale dramatically. “Shit.”
Chesney's brows furrow. “What is it?”
“I forgot to film it,” I whine.
“You little shit.” I help Chesney to sit, looking him over for injuries. He looks fine for the most part, bar a few cuts and bruises. “Whose idea was that?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And you wanted me to go on it first, fucker.”
His toothy grin shines under the bright sun. “Haven’t you learned by now to never listen to me?”
“Yes, hence why you’re the one sprawled out in the dirt with a bruised ass and ego,” I tease.
He shrugs, pushing himself up to stand. “So she needs a minor facelift. Big whoop.”
“I’m shocked you’re still alive at your old age.” I link my arm in his to help him back to the truck.
The sun is starting to set, and we’ve both had a long, hard day of work from sun up to sun down. I’m ready to cozy up in some sweats, have a nice dinner with a glass of merlot, and write for the rest of the night.
I’ve just sat down with my glass of wine and dinner, computer open to the latest draft I’ve started to work on. I’m deep in thought for this new story idea when I hear the first noise.
Crack.
Chesney told me to be careful at night because we are out in the boonies and there are wild animals on the ranch. I chalk up the noise to one of the animals—until I hear it again, louder this time. My heart starts to thunder in my chest when I hear someone yelling.
It sounds bad, whatever it is, so I throw my chair back and slip my shoes on. I’m worried someone may be hurt. I rush into the night without a second thought, letting my feet guide me towards the ruckus.
Research notes: never listen to a cowboy.