I’m not sure what she’s going off about, but I make a mental note to figure out why exactly she’s here on the ranch. I lean down and give her a parting kiss on the forehead.
“Goodnight, honey.”
Soft snores fill the room as I head out her door and make myself comfy on the couch. I don’t plan on leaving her unattended when she’s drank so much. I’ll be up working before she even wakes up anyways.
This will be the first and last time I’ll be sleeping under the same roof as Maisie Brooks, mark my words.
maisie
. . .
THIRTEEN
I swear,I’ve been run over by a train. That’s the only logical conclusion I can come up with when I struggle to pry my eyes open. Whoever's great idea it was to leave my blinds open last night should be fired from life.
I’m finally able to get one singular eye open and groan as my head spins from the small movement.Note to self: whiskey is now blacklisted.
I can crossvisit the Sahara Desertoff my bucket list because I have a front row seat to it as I struggle to peel my dehydrated tongue from the roof of my mouth. I thank God when I notice a glass of water on my bedside table, downing it in one go. Two small pills sit next to it with a note that readsTake these when you wake upwritten in small, neat handwriting.
I don’t know how I know it, but I can tell it’s Grayson’s writing. Oh no… No. No. No. I look over to the other side of my bed, silently praying it’s empty.
Did we do anything last night? I remember him showing up and us dancing, but everything after isveryblurry. Between the first whiskey shot and the… How many did I have? Four? Somewhere between the first and last, I seem to have forgotten the things I may or may not have said in front of Grayson, which is basically the biggest traumatic experience for a girl with social anxiety issues.
Ding. Ding. Ding.Winner, that’s me!
“Why me!” I groan into my pillow, wincing when my head throbs.
You know what? We aren’t going to worry about it. What’s done is done. We are going to pretend that nothing happened last night.Yeah, I can do that.
It’s Saturday, and I’m sure I won’t even run into Grayson until Monday morning, which means this will all be old news. So basically, when I think about it that way…it didn’t even happen.
I rush through a shower, hoping it will revive me with a ball of anxiety sitting low in my stomach, because yeah right. I could never forget about last night. It will inevitably be circling my thoughts for the foreseeable future. Perks of being an overthinker with a dollop of an anxiety queen. Gotta love it.
The heat and steam from my shower mostly detox my pores of all the alcohol. I swear, it smelled like cheap beer and whiskey in there. I’m feeling much better as I sip on a much needed energy drink. These things could revive the dead.
I’ve yet to unpack my suitcase, so I dig through my wrinkled clothes, looking for something to wear. I find pink corduroy overalls and a long sleeve white shirt to go under it. I could use some fresh air, so I slip on my shoes and look for a coat. They all seem to be dirty already, or majorly wrinkled from my travels. My eyes snag on the chair, a jean jacket slung over it that definitely isn’t mine. The property is huge, and the odds of me running into someone on the weekend are slim.
Of course it smells like him. A mixture of sandalwood and leather. I tighten it around me, dropping a couple cat treats for a howling, needy Evie. The couch looks rumpled, and there’s a blanket thrown across the back.
Did he sleep here?
Gravel crunches under my shoes, taking the path Chesneydrove us that first day. I notice a beaten path off to the side and follow it out of curiosity. It feels amazing out, crisp, fresh air instead of the smell of sewage and garbage on the streets of New York.
I brought my journal to take notes for my novel. I can see myself writing a setting similar to the ranch. My initial story was based on a cocky bull rider. After being out here, I can see myself changing gears altogether and going for something more relatable, maybe a love story about two flawed characters trying to navigate life the best they can, where their backstories really drive the narrative. Maybe a touch of dark to relay the shadows we harbor. Let’s face it: life isn’t always rainbows and sunshine.
Sometimes, life just plain sucks.
The trickle of water patters in the distance, and my feet follow the sound until I’m spit out at a small creek. There’s a small dock above it, and I decide it’s the perfect spot to rest and take notes.
I plant my butt on the edge and dangle my legs over the side. My hand flies across the page, taking notes. The sounds, smells, and emotions I feel secluded in my own little bubble. I thought it would feel lonely out here, but nature has a way of reminding you that you’re never alone. You just have to look for them. There are lessons to be learned in everything.
“Don’t jump!”
I nearly fall off the dock. My palm flies to my chest. “Jesus, give a girl a warning next time.” I look over my shoulder and find none other than one handsome as fuck Grayson Miles approaching me. Of course I would run into him.
“Mind if I join you?”
“You stalking me now?” I joke, patting the wooden dock next to me. I should be more embarrassed after last night, but, for some reason, Grayson seems to bleed my anxiety away.
