Page 11 of Slow Burn

“Everyone in Sage Valley remembers them, kid. It’s also what bonds you and Austin,” he says. “He’s been such a huge help around the ranch the last few years. I know Beck appreciates having him.”

My brother always fit in here better than I did. He’s charming, suave, a true people person. Austin could make friends with a tumbleweed.

A comfortable silence falls between us as I sip my steaming tea, and Wade takes another swig of whiskey.

“Do you have room on the ranch for one more Morgan?” I venture.

Wade looks up at me, his expression almost shocked, but his eyes are shrink-wrapped. “Always. Your daddy and I were good friends, and we Hollis’s are a loyal bunch, so you know you always have a place here.” He clears his throat. “You’ll have your work cut out for you, I’m afraid. Don’t let this big ol’ house fool you, the ranch is in rough shape. ”

I roll my lips together, letting out a pensive mmm. I had a feeling there’d be more than meets the eye when it came to this job. But I’m not in a position to be picky.

I’m sure I’ll find something else in the city again, it’ll just take some time and effort. Time and effort that I’ve already put in, with no return as of yet. It makes sense, and I shouldn’t have expected anything different. My boss is well-connected, and I underestimated how small the business industry is in Calgary. Certainly my dramatic departure made some waves.

I’m not one to back down from a challenge, though. Even if it means I have to figure out how to make a cattle ranch profitable.

“What do you think is the biggest challenge facing the ranch?” I ask, feeling my voice switch to the cool and measured tone I take on with my clients.

Wade waves a hand in front of his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in charge. You’ll have to get into all that with the head honcho.”

“The head–” I’m just about to clarify who he’s talking about, when the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut interrupts our conversation.

“That must be him now.”

I turn in my seat when I hear heavy footfall enter the kitchen, only to find Beck Hollis standing in the doorway.

Looming is more like it.

Despite the grandeur of the tall ceilings in this house, Beck seems to fill up the space, towering over both Wade and I. He stops in his tracks when he sees me, and a flush creeps up my neck, skin heating from the intensity of his gaze.

Today he’s wearing jeans and a plaid button down, rolled halfway up his thick forearms. He’s taken off his brown suede cowboy hat, though there’s a hint of a line in his wavy brown hair from where it sat.

Otherwise, he looks the same as he did when I saw him at the rodeo, but I still can’t make sense of the feeling I’m having at the sight of him. The ache in my chest, like a bit of nostalgia for a thing that never was.

Beck throws me a curt nod, his mouth in a tight line. “Lyla.”

He’s never been one for extraneous words, and he certainly never offers any unnecessary conversation to me. I offer him back a thin smile and a wave that's barely a wiggle of my fingers.

Wade pipes up to fill the silence, growing more and more awkward by the second. “Lyla’s back in town to see if she can’t help out around the ranch. Aren’t we lucky to have Sage Valley’s best and brightest?”

Beck’s chocolate brown eyes dart between Wade and me, assessing. He grunts as a response, and moves across the kitchen to help himself to the whiskey that Wade left open. The only sound in the room is the glug of the liquid as he pours it into his glass.

I work my bottom lip between my teeth to stop myself from blurting out the thoughts screaming in my mind.

Is that all you have to say? Not even a hello?

But I know that no matter what I say to Beck, a grunt is probably the best response I’m going to get. I never did quite understand the animosity Beck has towards me.

Sure, I was a pest growing up, following him and Austin wherever they went even though my presence was wholly unwanted, teasing them by making exaggerated kissing noises whenever they were talking about girls. A lot of time has passed since then, and I mistakenly thought Beck would have let go of his childhood grudges.

He leans against the counter, crossing his arm over his chest and taking a pull of his drink. “The ranch is doing just fine.”

“It’s not,” Wade argues. “It hasn’t been for quite some time now. We need fresh eyes. New blood. Someone to shake things up a bit.”

Beck’s eyes rake over me and take in my appearance, and apparently finding me lacking he scoffs under his breath.

“Lyla doesn’t know the first thing about ranching,” he says in defence, and the words sting only because there’s truth to them.

I don’t know anything about ranching. I rode horses growing up, as did every other kid in town, but my family didn’t operate a ranch when we lived here. And I never really cared for the lifestyle. In fact, I vehemently, wholeheartedly, disagree with it.