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Hank watched the guy carefully lower the last of his bags onto the drive. “Well, good luck with all that. Pretty sure you’re gonna need it,” he said with a chuckle.
“Thanks for giving him a lift, I guess,” I said, shaking his hand. Hank swung into his truck and started it back up, the engine rattling and wheezing as he struggled to shift it into gear. He took off back up the driveway, leaving Richie and his luggage collection choking on a cloud of dust and takeout wrappers.
The man bent down to rummage in one of his bags, and when he stood a moment later, he’d covered his blond waves with what appeared to be a cowboy hat—or some New York designer’s interpretation of a cowboy hat, anyway.
As I approached, he coughed and pulled a small aerosol can from what looked like a purse dangling from his arm. He closed his eyes and spritzed his face, muttering, “God. I’m going to need a stronger moisturizer if I’m going to be here an entire month. This air is murder on my pores.”
Whatever he’d sprayed himself with, it left his skin dewy and glistening, tiny droplets clinging to the tips of his eyelashes and the crease of his plump lips. I took a moment while his eyes were closed to study his features: wide jaw, angled cheekbones, flawless skin without a trace of wrinkles or sign of wear.
He opened his eyes. They were a deep blue so startling I found myself at a sudden loss for words. I finally forced my gaze away from his and blinked up at the garish cowboy hat he’d perched on his head.
“First off, lose the hat, Richie,” I said. “The reflection off the sequins is exacerbating the migraine I already have after not sleeping for three days. Second, grab as much of your stuff as you can carry and follow me. You can get the rest after I show you around.”
I turned to head toward the bunkhouse without waiting for him. Birdie huffed and got up to follow. After a few scuffling sounds and a hmpf, the stranger spoke up.
“Excuse me. Who do I talk to about the fact that there was no one to greet me at the airport? Also, I’m positively starving. Oscar’s flight attendant somehow overlooked the fact I’m on a highly specialized diet my friend Adelyte recommended, and he tried serving me a pasta dish. I had to make do with the salad, and it didn’t even have legumes on it, for god’s sake.”
I walked faster, silently cursing Oscar and shifting him from the friend column into the mortal enemy column in my mind. My temples were pounding, and my own stomach was grumbling from lack of food. But it was because I’d probably burned six thousand calories since lunch only a few hours ago, not because I was ever picky about what was served to me.
“Supper’s at six,” I called over my shoulder, ignoring what he’d just said. “Show up at the farmhouse kitchen door, and Norma’ll fix you up. Not sure if it’ll be keto, but you’ll eat what’s served or go hungry. Considering it’s a ranch, there’s usually plenty of beef on the table regardless.”
“I prefer lean meats—”
As if they’d heard him talking about them, a handful of chickens wandered out from behind one of the barns and headed past me toward Richie. Birdie turned her head back as if considering an impromptu chicken chase, and I shot her a warning glare.
From behind me came a terrified shriek followed by a shrill cry. “Away! Away from me! No! Bad chickens. Bad chickens!” I turned to see Richie prancing away, his iridescent belt bag clutched to his chest.
Jed glanced over at me from the open doorway to the barn but then wisely bit back the bark of laughter threatening to escape his grizzled mouth. I sighed and stomped a foot on the ground, clapping my hands and growling, “Git!” loud enough to scatter the chickens from the newcomer.
“Goodness,” Richie said, fanning himself with a hand. “I wasn’t expecting to be exposed to wildlife so soon after arriving. I thought I’d have more time to prepare myself…”
He trailed off, his gaze sliding past me to where the calving pasture was visible between the bunkhouse and farmhouse. His eyes widened in awe. When I looked at the area, I tended to see heifers, cows, and calves who might need assistance.
I saw work.
But I forgot what others saw. It really was like something out of a picture book. The sun was sinking toward the Wind River Mountains in the distance, bathing the ranch in golden light. A gentle breeze blew across the pasture, sending the tips of grass undulating like waves in a calm sea. Heifers and cows dotted the landscape, many with calves nearby or tucked beneath them eating.
