Page 42 of Slow Burn

Sometimes I wish I didn’t harbour so much resentment toward him. I know he’s trying, that he’s doing everything he can within his means to rectify the rift between us. And I’m getting there, I am.

I’m assuming that after a long night of drinking and cards, he retired to bed, and knowing that I worry about him, Lyla stayed until I got home. Now that I am home, I don’t have the heart to wake her to make her trek through the yard in the middle of the night back to the guest house. It’s not far, only a couple acres, but too far at this hour. Any number of predators could be lurking in the yard. Coyotes, wolves, they like to hunt little creatures in the tall grass. Creatures like the one Lyla saved that day in the driveway.

I chuckle to myself thinking about how opposed I was to having her here on the ranch. Watching her sleep here and thinking about how things have changed since she arrived, I can’t imagine her anywhere else.

Next to the cards, my eyes land on a yellow lined legal pad, with the first few pages flipped all the way back. I pick it up, and see Lyla’s loopy and even handwriting on the lines. The first few sheets are the notes she was telling me about.

Selling more cows is the first bullet point. I’ve thought about it, but I’ve had a hard time wrapping my head around that one. This herd dates all the way back to my ancestors that founded this farm. They’re Hollis cows through and through.

The next point says ‘lay off some of the ranch hands’. Lyla will be pleased to know that’s already been taken care of, though I will have to pay him severance.

The next page makes my heart bottom out. She’s made notes that look like answers to common interview questions. She describes herself as “easy to get along with” which I find ironic. But then she goes on to list other qualities. Most of them have to do with her work ethic, organization, all of which I can attest to now, having worked with her some. Then there’s a title called ‘personal’, under which she’s listed ‘passionate’, ‘caring’, ‘honest’. I think maybe she has a good handle on her attributes.

I knew Lyla was planning on leaving, that her ultimate goal would be to get a job in the city again. I guess I expected her to wait out her time here, and I worry that she’s leaving because of me. Because I’ve been prickly, cold, unwelcoming. But I’m sure she wants to get back to her life, and then I might have a hope in hell at getting over her.

She stirs, maybe sensing my presence in the room, and I put the notepad back where I found it as she rolls over to look around the arm of the couch to where I’m sitting. Her eyes are sleepy, a crease running down her cheek from where she laid on the pillow.

“What time is it?” she asks, groggy, her voice raspy and quiet.

I didn’t think Lyla could get any more beautiful than when she’s giving me hell, ribbing me the way she likes to do. But I was wrong. This Lyla is breathtaking, and I’ve lost all sense of the day and time because the only thing I can think about is seeing this version of her every morning when she wakes up.

“Late,” I answer.

She rubs her eyes and sits up. “Sorry, I thought I’d stay with your dad until you got home. Make sure he got his CPAP on okay. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I should go.”

I stand and nudge her shoulder, urging her to lay back down on the couch.

“It’s fine. I don’t want you walking home in the dark,” I say.

She snuggles back down into the couch, and I grab the knitted blanket draped over the back of it, covering her with it. Then, I pick Critter up and plop him on the couch next to her. He snuggles into her side and closes his eyes. Without thinking, I run a hand down over the top of Lyla’s head, caressing it tenderly. She blinks up at me, and I clear my throat.

“Goodnight, Trouble.”

I walk quickly out of the room before I have the chance to do something even more stupid without thinking, but as I do, I hear her soft voice behind me. It trails off as she drifts back into sleep.

“Goodnight, Bossman.”

Chapter 17

Lyla

The foyer of Bloom Consulting Group isn’t the way I pictured it.

The way the job description sounded, the company made themselves seem like a boutique consulting firm, verging on a hole-in-the-wall establishment. That’s what I liked about it. I figured if it was a smaller firm, they might not do much digging into why I left my previous job. They might also look at my experience on my resume and hire me on the spot.

My confidence plummets, and my knee bounces up and down as I sit in this weird, bowl shaped chair and stare at my reflection in the mirrored wall across from me. Shirley is running ten minutes behind and I’m getting impatient. She said this was just a meet and greet, to get the HR questions out of the way, but for me, that’s a problem.

I spent a lot of time preparing for this interview. I have two crisp copies of my resume in a folder, but I still haven’t figured out how to explain my departure from my last job in a way that says, please hire me, I promise I’m not emotionally unstable.

A woman with short cropped blonde hair wanders out from behind the reception desk, and heads over to me. She’s chic, wearing a creamy blouse tucked into even chicer wide leg navy trousers. But her smile is warm as she holds out her hand to shake mine, so that’s a good start, I guess.

“You must be Lyla,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I say, returning her smile with one of my own. “Thank you for meeting with me today.”

I follow her down a long hall, and into an east-facing office with floor to ceiling windows. Since we’re on the twenty-sixth floor of a high rise in downtown Calgary, the view is practically unobstructed, and I can see all the way to the mountains. A soft blue haze obscures the rolling foothills beneath them, but my heart squeezes in my chest as I think that on a perfectly clear day, I might be able to see all the way to Sage Valley.

It makes me think about Beck. We’ve fallen into an easy routine over the last week. I do my morning yoga on the lawn while he has his morning coffee. Sometimes he even has it on the porch now, and I’ve caught him looking at me a few times, despite knowing he’d deny it. I have to wonder what’s changed between us. Something has softened in Beck towards me.