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“Sorry to hear that. It’s a big kick in the head that we both ended up here, though, huh? What are the odds?”
“Pretty slim. But I’ve heard some of the other guys say there’s something magical about Clean Slate. It brings people here when they’re meant to be, for whatever reason. I, uh...” Hugo took a deep breath, held it, then released. “I applied to work at your family’s ranch. Your father offered me a job.”
Colt’s eyes went comically wide. “You’re shitting me. Really? I mean, he called me this morning and mentioned he’d gotten an application from a guy named Hugo Turner who worked here, and he asked me for a personal reference on your working habits. But he didn’t mention he’d offered you the job.”
“That’s because it just happened. I honestly didn’t expect anything to come out of it. I love it here. Arthur and Judson have been great, and I’ve learned a lot since I’ve worked here, but now I feel as if I have unfinished business back in Texas.” No way was he going to admit part of that business included a never-ending crush on one of Colt’s younger brothers. “I didn’t leave on good terms with a lot of people. I kind of want to fix that.”
“You don’t have to leave the ranch to fix old hurts. When’s your next week off?”
Hugo shook his head. All the hands got a week’s vacation on a rotating basis throughout the year, but he’d never used his to go home. He rarely went much of anywhere, because everything he needed was at the ranch. Or so he’d thought. “I like this job a lot, Colt, but this isn’t the end of the road for me. I’m only twenty-seven. I’ve got a lot of miles left to travel, and if those miles take me back home for a bit, I’m okay with that.”
More than any other time since he’d left home, Hugo truly was okay with going back. With facing his past and all the ugly parts he’d tried to leave behind.
“Well, I can’t say I won’t miss you,” Colt said. “You always were an easy mark on poker night.”
Hugo laughed. Genuine laughter, because he did kind of suck at cards, and because Colt was just teasing him. The big, blond cowboy didn’t have a mean bone in his body—much like his younger brother Brand. “You aren’t wrong about that. I’ll miss poker nights. And I’ll miss our group visits in San Francisco to hang out with Slater and Derrick. I’ll miss a lot of things, but the more I sit with it, the more this move feels right.”
“Then go with your gut, pal. And hey, I’ll see you next time Avery and I go home to visit my family. I’ll bring you all the juiciest gossip.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Hugo wasn’t much of a gossip himself, but he definitely wanted to know what was up with the friends he was leaving behind. “I guess I should find my courage and go tell Judson I’m resigning. Give him time to hire a replacement.”
“I imagine it’s easier for Judson to find new hires than it is for my father. Ranching is a bit more complicated than leading trail rides and camping trips for tourists. You sure you’re up for that life?”
“Yes.” Hugo stood a bit straighter. “I grew up on a ranch, and my stepfather still works for a local CSA. I got my first paid job there when I was fifteen, so I know hard work. I know cattle and horses. I’ve got a lot of metaphorical fences that need tending back in Texas, and I know I can’t mend them in a week.”
I can’t mend myself in a week.
“I hear that,” Colt said, his familiar, affable smile firmly in place. “I also won’t spread your news all over the ranch. Promise.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably tell Shawn and Miles tonight. Might as well rip the bandage off, right?” Hugo considered the pair of cooks to be his two best friends on the ranch. They were the closest people to his age, and he’d definitely miss seeing them in person. But the power of smartphones and the internet meant they could easily keep in touch.
“Yeah, putting it off never seems to accomplish much except hurt feelings.” Colt checked his phone. “I gotta get back to work. Some of the south fencing needs repairs, and that’ll probably take up the rest of my afternoon.”
“I need to get back, too. I’m on this afternoon’s trail ride with the guests. Thanks for the chat, Colt, I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. See you around.”
Hugo watched Colt amble toward the big red barn to collect whatever tools he’d need for his fence mending, then walked around the back of the guesthouse to face the main house. Arthur Garrett, the owner of the ranch and adjacent horse rescue, lived there with Judson and Patrice, the woman who cooked for their guests and the hands. Judson was likely in his office, and there was no reason to put off giving his two weeks’ notice.
He steeled his spine and strode toward the house.
“Good news, son.”
Brand Woods looked up from the paperwork on his desk, startled by the sound of his father’s voice coming from his office doorway. Usually, the old Woods family home’s floors creaked loudly enough that you heard most anyone coming, going, or moving about above your head, but somehow Dad had gotten the drop on him.
Then again, they were close to the end of the month, and Brand was desperately trying to balance the books before sending things off to their accountant for tax season. He hated February with an unbridled passion, but he’d gotten a business degree for a reason and this was it. To help keep Woods Ranch in the black and running. They employed a lot of people in their county, not only as ranch hands, but also the grocery store, and their feed and hay suppliers. Only half of their current head of cattle were free-range, grass-fed, so the other half needed to eat just like the humans who raised them.
While the demand for organic, grass-fed beef had risen dramatically in recent years, the transition was still a gamble for a family who’d done things a certain way for multiple generations. But Brand was determined to make this transition work.
“What’s the good news?” Brand asked, desperate for anything to make him smile today.
“I got us a new hire, and he’s got experience with horses and cattle.” Dad grinned in a weird way. “And he’s someone you and Rem know.”
“Oh?” Brand couldn’t think of a single person in Weston or Daisy who didn’t already work for them, or who’d tried and failed to make the cut. “Who?”
“Hugo Turner.” Dad sat in the chair opposite Brand’s desk. “Remember him? One of Rem’s best friends from high school.”
An uncomfortable ball of ice dropped into the middle of Brand’s stomach, and he worked to keep his face as neutral as possible. He hadn’t heard that name spoken out loud in years. His mind flashed with a memory of the jumpy, hyperaware, brown-haired teenager who’d seemed to be there whenever Brand turned around after Brand returned home from college. And flirting every chance he got—which was crazy distracting from someone Brand considered a kid but who was also cute in all the right (and wrong) ways.
