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I carefully adjust my feet to a harder spot of ground so I’m back to my normal five-foot-seven height, and Tiny gestures for me to follow him toward an ATV that sits just off the runway.
Or is it a TTV? A BTV?
Hell, whatever those four-wheel, all-terrain vehicles with a roof that are all the rage for the adventurous, nature-y types who like to go off-roading are called, it’s one of those.
“Hop on in, and I’ll get your bag,” Tiny instructs, but then when he turns back toward Tom and sees that I have more than one bag—six suitcases, actually—he starts laughing. “How long you plannin’ on stayin’, Doc?”
“Just the two months Mr. Jameson requested.”
“Six suitcases for two months?” he asks, and I cringe.
“I might’ve gone a little overboard on the packing.”
Yeah, and it’s too bad you probably packed the entirely wrong wardrobe.
Gah. Fingers crossed that I at least packed my favorite pair of neon-pink Adidas running shoes.
Tiny chuckles at my wide-eyed expression. “Well, Doc, how about I take you to the lodge so you can chat with Tex, and then I’ll come back for your things?”
I nod. “Sounds good to me.”
When he pulls away, I silently wonder if my luggage is just going to sit there in the dirt or if Tom is going to wait until Tiny comes back before leaving the ranch, but I bite my tongue because I’m certain that’s being pushy…and prissy for men like these two.
Instead, I offer up a silent prayer that none of those big-ass cows makes their way over to my belongings. Those horns could do some serious damage to my favorite Kate Spade suitcases.
The ride to the lodge is bumpy, and Tiny appears to have zero concern for avoiding holes or rocks or pretty much any-damn-thing, and my whole body—especially my boobs—vibrates with each rough jar of the vehicle.
This situation is a perfect example of why it can be a real pain in the ass being a curvy girl with double D breasts. I feel like someone has put me inside a washing machine and set it to extra-fast drain and spin. At this rate, I’m liable to knock myself out with a boob-sucker-punch to the face.
I glance around, trying to find a seat belt or something to, you know, prevent an untimely death, but when I come up empty-handed, I grip the edge of my seat as tightly as I can, in hopes it’ll prevent me from falling out of this thing.
Goodness. There has to be a better mode of transportation around here…
“Is this how you normally get around the ranch?” I ask, pushing my voice to a higher-than-normal volume so it can be heard over the whip of the wind.
“I prefer my horse,” he answers, glancing at me out of his periphery. “You ride horses, Doc?”
“Uh. No.” I shake my head on an awkward laugh.
“Have you ever been on a horse?”
“Also, no.” I shake my head again, but the movement forces pieces of my long brown hair to almost blow into my mouth. I grimace and try my best to readjust my face in a way that prevents me from eating my own hair the whole ride to the lodge.
“Where ya from, Doc?”
“Salt Lake City.”
“That’s not too far.”
“Mm-hmm,” I respond, but my thoughts are the exact opposite. Sure, not too far distance-wise, but this place is worlds apart from what I’m used to.
Whereas my apartment is located in downtown Salt Lake, in the middle of the hustle and bustle, this ranch makes me feel like I’m on a different fucking planet.
There’s no Starbucks.
No restaurants.
No nightlife.
No cars.
And besides Tom and Tiny, I’ve yet to see another human being.
I’m thankful when Tiny pulls us to a stop in front of an impressive and huge rustic lodge. “Here we are,” he says and cuts the engine. “Tex should be in his office.”
Careful not to trip over the gravel pathway, I follow him toward the entrance and through the large wooden doors. The moment we step into the interior, I’m shocked at just how big the structure is on the inside.
The strong smell of cedar assaults my nostrils, and my eyes don’t miss the massive fireplace in the center of the main room or the dead animal heads that hang proudly all over the walls.
Holy cowboys and cowgirls. This is the kind of lodge or cabin or whatever you want to call it that you’d see in a Western-style Hollywood movie. Any second, I feel like a young Brad Pitt dressed as Wyatt Earp might come sidling out in sexy chaps and boots and spurs.
Certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen…
Tiny leads me out of the main gathering room, past what looks to be an even larger dining room, and down a long hallway.
Once we reach the end of it, he comes to a stop.
