“I need a hot shower first,” he muttered through a parched throat as he strode from the laundry room through the kitchen, past the dining room table cluttered with mail, then down the hallway to his bedroom.
Entering the sanctuary of his room, he grabbed a faded cotton T-shirt, along with a pair of well-worn sweatpants and socks, then moved into the bathroom. His muscles screamed for relief, his stomach growled for sustenance, and his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. He just hoped tonight wouldn’t be another endless stretch of ceiling-staring insomnia. He reached into the stall, twisted the knob, waited for the pipes to deliver warmth and once billowing steam fogged the mirror, Seth stepped inside, letting out a guttural groan as the scalding water cascaded down his skin and knotted muscles.
Bracing his palms against the cool tile wall, he tilted his head under the powerful spray, feeling it sluice down his face, watching rivulets carve paths through the day’s grime before spiraling down the drain in hypnotic rusty whorls, carrying away everything but his thoughts of Ryan.
Seth grasped the shampoo. He pressed the nozzle, feeling the cool gel bloom between his palms, then tilted his head under the warm spray as the rich lather climbed through his hair. Steam curled around his shoulders while he massaged the foam down his neck and rinsed it away. He reached for the soap bar perchedon the edge of the tub and worked it over his arms and chest until his skin tingled under the sudsy wash. By the time he squeezed out the last droplets from his hair, his muscles ached with exhaustion, and the thought of shaving felt like climbing a mountain.
After drying off, he dressed, then walked across the linoleum floor to the kitchen, where the fridge emitted a low hum. His stomach growled. He spotted his phone lying face down on the countertop. “Shit,” he muttered, chest tight, as he flipped it over. The screen glowed:
I sent photos to your email.
“That’s it, huh? No hello, no how are you, just, I sent photos to your email.” He tapped the message open, leaned back against the counter, and waited for a follow-up that never came.
Too tired to untangle emotions, Seth tore two thick slices of bread from their plastic bag, layered on mayo and turkey cold cuts, and unscrewed the cap from a chilled water bottle. Cradling his makeshift dinner, he made his way to the living room, set the plate down on the end table, nudged the water beside it, and clicked on the TV, bathing the room in neon flicker, then took a bite of sandwich and moaned at the simple satisfaction of real food.
When the sandwich was gone and only crumbs remained, he sat up, scooped the plate into his hands and strolled into the laundry room. The empty bottle rattled into the recycling bin; the plate clattered under the faucet as he rinsed away stray mayo. Back in his bedroom, he pulled on clean jeans, a T-shirt, and socks. He spotted his laptop on the desk by the closet, its black lid reflecting faint light. Gathering it in his hands, he settled back into the mattress, stretched his legs out, pulled the blanket over his lap and opened the lid.
The screen blinked awake beneath his fingertips as he navigated to his inbox. Nothing. He frowned, remembering he’dnever given her this account. He switched to one of his business emails, the one he used for his cutting horses, and there it was a message buried among newsletters. He clicked it open and watched the first attachment bloom across the display. Wide, empty fields loomed, soil the color of fresh coffee, then rows of green shoots pushing toward the sun. Seth’s tight shoulders eased as he scrolled through each image; she’d captured every furrow, every dewdrop glint. He opened the next file and chuckled at a series of photos showing his men posing before a barn, their broad grins catching the light. In his mind’s eye, he could see her there, camera in hand, beaming with delight.
He stared at a photo of her and Cull together, their faces illuminated by Montana’s golden hour sunlight. They both had wide, unrestrained grins that crinkled the corners of their eyes. Ryan’s black hair caught the light, making it shimmer like ink.
Lord, he missed her with an ache that hollowed out his chest. A week had crawled by since she’d left for California, where June’s approach surely meant cloudless skies and warm temperatures.
He gazed out his window at the snowcapped Glacier Mountains, their jagged peaks cutting into the cerulean sky. Ryan would have pressed her delicate hands against the glass, her breath fogging it as she whispered her amazement. Seth leaned his head back against the headboard, closed his eyes, and saw her laughing as she talked to Elsie, that stubborn Charolais with the crooked brown patch over one eye. Ryan had fallen in love with that ornery cow, and whenever Elsie escaped her pen or the paddock, she’d follow Ryan around like an overgrown puppy, nudging her hip with a wet nose.
Seth squeezed his eyes until bursts of color exploded behind his lids, fighting the hot pressure of unshed tears. What was he supposed to do? Abandon the land he’d built up from nothing and go after her? Would she even take him back after he’dpushed her away with words sharp as barbed wire? As he’d confessed to Cull, it was just his defense mechanism. He’d known from the first moment she’d stepped onto his property in those impractical heels, that he’d fall for her. The electricity between them had been undeniable, and when they finally came together, they’d ignited like dry kindling in August heat.
Closing the laptop with a definitive click, he set it on the pine nightstand, turned off the TV and the antique brass lamp, then settled into sheets. He hoped sleep would come tonight, though the hollow space beside him suggested otherwise.
Sunday morning, Seth stepped from the house, steam rising from his coffee mug into the afternoon air. His laptop was tucked under his arm as he entered the vast barn, breathing in the familiar scent of hay and leather while his eyes adjusted to the dimness. He walked toward the men gathered at the indoor corral. This was their daily ritual, meeting to receive their assignments from Cull. Though he was usually off on weekends, Cull still handed out chores, then one of the guys would take over.
“Good morning, boss,” Micky said with a grin, his ruddy face already shiny with sweat despite the early hour.
“Micky.” Seth nodded to the others, weather-beaten faces he knew as well as his own. “Guys, I’m glad most of you are here. I’ll get with the others on Monday. I have something I want to show you, so let’s head to Cull’s office.” Seth turned and made his way across the cement floor to the small room that smelled perpetually of coffee. He opened the door with its familiar creak and nodded for the men to go in, then followed and closed it behind them. He walked to the desk cluttered with invoices and cutting schedules, set his laptop on the only clear space, opened it, then navigated to the folders. He looked up at the expectant faces of men who were more family than employees. “These are the photos Ryan took for the article and a few that were capturedin between, moments when she thought no one was watching. I thought you’d like to see them.”
The men gathered around the desk and Seth watched as they all grinned, then laughed at some of them.
“Who took this one, Cull?” Seth asked about the one of him and Ryan together.
“I did,” Ringo said. “Ryan asked me if I’d take it. She got pictures of each one of us with her.”
Except him, Seth thought, then he looked at Cull to see him staring at him, so Seth shrugged.
“I didn’t see all of them, but if you guys want to go through these and pick some you want, I can either print them out for you or send them to you so you can do it.”
“I’d like the photo of us together,” Ringo said. “She was great.”
“Yeah, she was,” Cull said while looking at Seth, then he shook his head and walked out.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan sat at the wooden kitchen table, early morning light slanting through the blinds and pooling on the surface. She thumbed through her phone, no unread texts, no new emails in her personal account. Her pulse fluttered. Why hadn’t he answered?
Skylar slipped into the kitchen, made herself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table. “What do you want to do today?” she asked, voice hushed against the hum of the fridge.
“How about nothing?” Ryan murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Sounds like a perfect day,” Skylar agreed, shoulders relaxing.
