I’m putting the finishing touches on the guest cabin when I hear the rumble of an engine coming from down the road. Our guests were supposed to be here this morning, but no one had shown up. I was starting to worry they would be a no-show.
Squinting through the dusty windows, I catch sight of a big bus rolling in. A bus that looks way too familiar. It kicks up clouds of dirt as they slow near the barn, and my heart skips a beat when I spot the bold lettering along the side of the bus:Denton Reed. My insides plummet, seeing his name so bold and clear right here on my family’s ranch.
No fucking way.
My breath catches as the door swings open and out steps Denton. There he is with that same charming smile and worn boots, but somehow, he seems more real here on my turf than under the bright lights of his stage. I blink, trying to process it—wiping at the dust on the window with the rag in my hand as if what I’m seeing might be an illusion.
What the hell is he doing here?
Dad is walking out of the main house to greet them, and the one with wild hair that looks like he just rolled out of bed runs up to shake his hand. Denton catches me staring through the window, and I drop to the floor. My hand flies to my chest pounding.
I slowly rise, turning back to the window and peek out the bottom—he’s laughing at me. I mean, I am hiding like a little girl who just got caught watching her crush. Even so, is this some big joke to him?
Who does he think he is, showing up here like this? I said no for a reason, and now he’s here on my family's ranch. That’s it, I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind. I throw the rag down on the floor in frustration, then walk out the front door and down the steps of the cabin. I stop inches in front of him and put my hands on my hips.
But then, the rest of the world fades away as we lock eyes. The bustling of the ranch, the other trucks, even the dogs barking in the distance. It all fades out, a strange feeling stirring inside of me. Excitement? Anger? Nervousness? Maybe a little bit of everything.
This is going to be a lot more complicated than I thought.
He looks me over like it’s no big deal, like showing up here is just another stop on his tour. I stiffen, crossing my arms.
“Well, look who decided to crash the party,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
Denton gives me that easy grin, unbothered. He lowers his eyes to my mouth, now smirking, like he knows something I don’t.
“Well, it’s good to see you too, cowgirl. Thought me and the boys would take a little vacation. No pressure, no big scenes. Just some quiet time and maybe a little cattle wrangling.”
I raise an eyebrow, not quite buying the “no pressure” part.
“Right. And I’m just supposed to roll out the welcome mat?”
He shrugs, hands in his pockets. “I’m here to relax, not complicate things. Figured I’d keep it simple.”
I study him for a beat, trying to read what he’s really thinking.
Turning on my heel and heading toward the cabin door, I call over my shoulder.
“Well, don’t get too comfortable. We’ve got a busy week ahead, and I’m not making it easy for anyone.” Looking back over my shoulder, I make sure he’s following. I catch a sly grin. He’s laughing softly behind me.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says.
I whip around to face him at the entrance of the cabin, forcing a tight smile. “All right. Let’s get this over with. Follow me.”
Denton falls into step beside me like we’re old friends. Like he hasn't just casually shown up at my front door with a tour bus and a smile that makes me barely able to stay upright every time he aims it my way.
“This is the guest cabin,” I say, waving my hand across as if I were on a game show, showing off a fancy new car. “Five bedrooms, three bathrooms. Full kitchen and a porch with a view. Jo, our cook, will make all three of your meals per day. There are snacks in the pantry if you get hungry in between meals. You can leave any dishes in the sink and Lucy will get to them, but be respectful and try to clean up after yourselves.” I spit it all out sounding like a drill sergeant.
Denton chuckles softly. “We ain't a bunch of heathens, Sorrel.”
Ignoring him, I keep walking, boots clacking loudly on the hardwood floor in the silence. The rest of his crew tramples into the cabin like a stampede, laughing and slapping each other on the back like a group of teenage boys.
This is going to be a long ass week.
Denton introduces them all one by one. “This is Johnny, lead guitarist; Grady, bass player; Parker, drummer; and Ray, pretty much does it all and we couldn’t do any of it without him.
“Hey, I’m Sorrel,” I wave.
They all say, “Hi, Sorrel,” simultaneously.
