The voice. I wish I could say I don’t recognize it, but I do.
“Please, can you hear me?” I rub a hand over my face.
Of course.
Because the universe looked at my perfectly reasonable plan to finish the day quietly and said,no, let’s ruin that.Not that I don’t want to see Riley again, but I’ve come to associate her withtwo things: trouble and turmoil. The first one, she causes; the latter one, she stirs in me.
I turn in the saddle, scanning the pasture. Nothing but scrub brush, a stretch of dry creek bed, and about a thousand places someone could be stuck doing something stupid.
But where is she?
“I’m in the coop!” she shouts, as if she knows I’m wondering. “I’m stuck.”
Of course she is.
I guide Buck off the trail toward the coop. The ground dips and the grass grows thicker, hiding rocks and holes that love nothing more than to break ankles—mine or Buck’s. And probably Riley’s, if she wasn’t careful enough.
We ease down the slope until we see her. She’s inside the chicken coop, the one near the barn I barely go into because Arnold says that’s not part of our job, and I’m not one to go against the old man’s wisdom.
The coop is like a gated mansion—a 10x20 custom-built coop and run, worn and old but loved, nonetheless. Riley’s face shifts into a relieved sigh when she sees me.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” My feet hit the toasted pasture as she walks on clean, dry pine shavings toward me. There’s a fence between us and a laugh I’m trying to contain. She looks ridiculous.
Ridiculously hot, at that.
The run is tall enough that she can walk without crouching, a high cedar frame and secure hardware cloth, which I know will keep predators out…and Riley.
“I cannot believe you’re saving me…again.”
I shake my head. “Do I even want to ask?” There’s no need for her to answer. Now that I’m near the door, I can see. A soft chuckle escapes me.
“It’s so fucking interesting how you barely smile, let alone laugh, but somehow, you’ve done it twice today. I’m going to try stand-up comedy if this whole working at the ranch thing doesn’t work.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” she says as her voice breaks. “I came in to collect the eggs I was supposed to bring into town an hour ago, but then I couldn’t get out.”
She’s been here for an hour?
I unlatch the door, allowing her to step outside, and before I can move, she throws herself at me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you one. I thought I was going to die here.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say, deflecting, since what I truly want to do is pull her closer and help calm her heart. Her desperate tone is one I’d only like to hear behind closed doors when she’s begging for more, not because she’s been locked in a coop. Flowers and sunshine wrap me up in a comfort I can’t quite name, and it is in this moment I realize how fucked I actually am.
Nah, we’re beyond looking and thinking about her as a beautiful woman. Now, we’re finding comfort in the way she smells or in the way she feels wrapped around me.
I know Lilly asked me to keep an eye on her, but I need to keep my distance. I tried the whole dating and getting married thing once; turns out, I wasn’t great at it. She knew it, we all knew it, but trying to do what society and my parents deemed acceptable meant high school, college, girlfriend, master’s, wedding, children, in that order. The children were not in the cards, and neither was the marriage, I guess, since it ended while taking everything down in flames. It wasn’t fair to her, though. I didn’t love her, not really. We were friends, and I enjoyed her company; it made sense to take the next step, but I loved my job more. She never stood a chance.
The only regret I have is that I wasted years of her life in a marriage that wasn’t going anywhere.That, I will never forgive myself for. We fought an unwinnable battle, entering a crossfire that didn’t end until we were both on the ground.
One of us found a new life while the other is trying to rebuild.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks, grounding me back in the present. Guilty as charged, because I indeed was not.
“Sorry, you’re cutting off my circulation,” I mutter, earning me an exasperated sound.
“I was saying thank you, you big ol’ grump.”
“I wish I could say anytime, but something tells me it will literally be any time. Why didn’t you call someone?”
