A blanket of white, fluffy clouds gently floated above, blocking the direct sunlight, which was good since she hadn’t thought to put sunscreen on.
A familiar-looking woman in her mid-to-late fifties strode toward the house but stopped in front of them when she noticed Shylo. “Oh, hi!”
Seth gestured between them. “Shylo, this is Mya Santana, the Triple-R’s housekeeper—well, for the main house. I don’t blame her for not wanting to set foot into the bunkhouses. Some of the ranch hands are pigs, in the metaphorical sense, of course. Thank God, I have my own apartment. Mya, this is Shylo Kellerman.”
“We met the other night,” Mya told him. “She was admiring my great-grandmother’s ring.”
“It was stunning.” When Shylo noticed it at the party while serving the woman, she’d said the same thing. Apparently, Mya only wore the gold-and-ruby ring for special occasions.
“Thank you. Welcome to Red River Ranch. May I take that from you? I’ll put it in the kitchen until the desserts are served.”
“Yes, thank you.” She handed over the box.
“Seth, get Shylo something to drink first before you introduce her to everyone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She playfully smacked his arm as she started for the back porch again. “I told you not to “ma’am” me until I’m ninety! Next time you need something sewn up, don’t come crying to me.”
As Shylo smiled, Seth laughed at the woman’s teasing, then pointed to the bar. “Let’s get you that drink before she threatens to do or not do something else.” As they started walking, he hitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the house. “Mya’s become a mom to many of us. Her husband died about six years ago, but her daughters live nearby. After they both got married, Shane, Tuck, and Paige offered her the nanny quarters in the main house, since she was there five days a week, anyway. That way, she didn’t have to drive thirty minutes back and forth every day.”
“Nanny quarters?” She didn’t know what that was, but it sounded like something rich people had. The thought made her anger simmer again, but she didn’t let it show on her face.
“Yeah. It’s in the one-level section of the house. Shane and Tuck expanded the original house when their first wife, Sarah, got pregnant with their daughter, Arianna. She’s almost ten now. Back then, they had a live-in housekeeper, too, who stayed in that wing, but the architect kept calling it the nanny’s quarters—so the name stuck. It’s got its own bath, a small living room, and a kitchenette, so on Mya’s days off, she can relax in there if she wants to, and her daughters or friends can come by to visit.”
Her resentment combined with jealousy, threatening to erupt. Shane had it all—not one, but two gorgeous spouses, adorable daughters and a son on the way, what looked like a mid-western, ranch-style mansion with nanny quarters, a housekeeper, a bunch of other employees, horses, and land for miles. Meanwhile, she barely had anything to her name but a truck that might die at any minute and a meager bank account.
As she tried to keep her emotions in check, something cold and wet nudged the back of her bare calf. When she noticed the cute, black and brown puppy sniffing her feet, her heart melted a little. She’d always wanted a dog while growing up, but their landlord didn’t allow pets. “Well, hello there.” She crouched down to pet the puppy, who immediately rolled onto her back for a belly rub. “Aren’t you adorable?”
Seth squatted beside her. “This is Sassy. She’s an eight-month-old pit bull and Basset hound mix Ari insisted her parents let her rescue from our local shelter. She’s the only pet on the ranch, so she’s spoiled already. Our other two dogs are Australian Shepherd/Border Collie mixes, P.B. and Jay. They’re around here somewhere—probably relaxing in the shade. They live and work with the ranch hands. We also have a few barn cats that keep the rodents away.”
“Cattle, sheep, goats, horses, dogs, chickens, and cats? Any other animals I missed?”
“Yup—a few donkeys. Now, I think that covers everything.”
“Wow.”
“You’ve never been on a ranch before?”
She shook her head. “Not really. There were a few farms near our town, but they were mainly for fruit and vegetables. My mom and I went to the produce stands every once in a while, but that’s about it. However, now that I think about it, when I was in elementary school, we took a class trip to an orchard to go apple picking. I remember my mom baking a pie with what I brought home.”
He scratched Sassy’s ear. “You’ve mentioned your mom a few times now, but you’ve never said anything about your father. Was he not in the picture?”
Chapter 8
Seth knew he shouldn’t have asked that question when Shylo stiffened beside him. Clearly, it was a sore subject for her. Her tone was flat when she responded. “No, he wasn’t. I never knew him.”
He had a feeling there was more to the story, but it wasn't his place to push for details. If she wanted to tell him, she would. If not, he’d let it go. “Sorry about that. My father and I butted heads a lot, especially after he got remarried to a woman who hated me because I was a constant reminder that she wasn’t his first wife. I don’t even have any pictures of my mom because Stacy threw them all away when I was at school one day.”
“That’s awful!”
He shrugged. “It is what it is. I haven’t been back to Oregon since I left. I only talk to my dad on our birthdays and Christmas, and maybe one or two other days out of the year. The conversations never last long. I still have some good memories of my mom, though, even with her mental illness. When it first happened, I was pissed that she committed suicide, but as I grew older, I came to understand she didn’t really have control of it—the depression, I mean. Maybe if she had the right doctor and medication, things would’ve been better, but my father filing for divorce pushed her over the edge.” He stood again. “Okay, off the morose subjects again. We talked about that stuff the other night. Let’s move on. What can I get you to drink? We’ve got a keg of Coors, wine, flavored seltzers, soda, and water.”
After giving Sassy one last belly rub, she straightened. “You know what? A beer sounds good. I haven’t had one in a while, and it’s a hot day.”
At the portable bar that was brought out for every barbecue, she held two red Solo cups as he used the keg nozzle to fill them. Once they both took a refreshing drink, he led her over to the grill area to introduce her to his bosses. “Hey, guys. This is Shylo Kellerman—new to Hazard and still trying to figure out if she’s just passing through. Shylo, this is Shane Wilson and his husband, Tucker. They own the Triple-R.”
“Welcome to our home, Shylo,” Tuck said.
