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Dash’s smile fades when he sees Bobby.
Yeah. That smile was just for me. Something inside me squeaks.
“Great. You’re here,” I say, not meaning one word of it but working hard not to sound disappointed.
Dash immediately steps away and goes to put his screwdriver back in its place in the workbench. I know I might see him later in the apartment, maybe, or tomorrow morning, or sometime very soon because we live and work together, but it feels like he’s going off on an around-the-world cruise or something.
I need to stay focused. This sleigh isn’t fixing itself.
“Bobby, could you go on out to the toolshed and get another drill? Make sure you get a set of bits, too, and you can help me finish taking this thing apart until you sign off?”
“Aw, Molly. No can do…”
This is how it’s going to be with Bobby? Fighting me every step of the way…
“The pastures need me…” he churns up his millionth excuse this week.
Dash turns to Bobby, leans on his arm against the workbench, posture stiff and manly. “Bobby.”
Bobby turns away from me and gazes at Dash. “Yeah?”
His voice rumbles low, like thunder. “I think what you meant to say wasyes, ma’am.”
Bobby opens his mouth, but no words come out. He searches for a reason to make Dash reel back an intention to punch him in the face; because that appears to be his next move.
Dash’s body clenches, not waiting for Bobby to respond. “Go ahead…”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bobby says the words but doesn’t face me, he stares blankly, defeated, into thin air.
But Dash isn’t finished. He steps closer to Bobby and scans him head to toe. “Hand in your resignation or treat Molly with respect. Those are your only two options at Starlight Ranch. If I hear otherwise, I’ll make the decision for you.”
Bobby nods.
“Now go on and get that drill.”
Bobby walks off, his body probably raging with schemes of revenge, but I don’t care. Dash sticking up for me is everything.
“Thanks for that.”
“He gives you any more trouble and he’s gone.”
My heart flaps wildly. Dash just sided with me. He chosemeover Bobby, who, by the way, I thought he liked because he’s a local boy and one of the only full-time staff around here. But… Dash backedme. Confidence swells inside me. I can do this. No… I havedonethis. I’m bursting with more of that pride I felt when he handed me that clipboard to sign for the horses. I want to crash into him with a hug…and rip our clothes off…but I keep my cool.
He doesn’t know just how big all of this is for me. The goal I set for myself nearly ten years ago while reading a book about the west, late at night when I couldn’t sleep, is an actual reality. And the intention I set for myself almost four years ago when my sister went to college… it’s real, too.
Dash hooks his thumbs through his belt loops. “I’m heading to town now. You need anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“All right. If you need anything, drop me a text.”
The most pure, content feeling rises from my toes and up through every cell of my body. Dash, who months ago refused to hire me, is now the best mentor I’ve ever had, and to top off is now offering to pick me up a loaf of bread from the Super-Mart. The pride was one thing. But I never thought such a simple gesture as asking if I need something from the grocery store could make my knees buckle.
* * *
When I get back up to the apartment after a grueling day of work, Dash’s door is closed, so I assume he’s sleeping. Whatever he does in the middle of the night, he skipped because of Romeo, and the next couple days, too. I guess he’s eager to get back to his schedule.
He seems like a creature of habit. I’ve only been living here a short time but I notice his boots are always put together and aligned, either inside the door or on a tray outside to catch the mud and water if it’s been wet out. His towel is always folded and hangs tidy over the drying rail. He rinses out the bathroom sink and wipes it down. He never leaves a dirty dish in sight, but then, apart from his morning coffee, maybe he doesn’t eat here.
