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“Operation reports on the terrorists that made the threat. My job is to analyze and profile, I’m looking for anything that can direct them to find these guys.”
“Is this something you normally do, or is it specific to this situation?”
“It’s not technically what I planned when getting my psychologist license, but I’ve been doing it for a year in this position. It’s honestly been so interesting. It’s like a puzzle, looking for hidden clues in the text and forming a profile. I love getting to be proactive and a part of something, I feel like I can make a bigger impact this way.”
She surprises herself with how honest she is being, and how good it feels. When she glances up at him, Brett is looking at her with such intention that she loses her train of thought.“It’s a great idea,” he says with a nod, the sincerity in his eyes causing her stomach to flutter.
“So, what does the schedule look like on the ranch?” She rushes to change the subject and make the butterflies disappear.
He adjusts his hat and leans forward towards her, “we drove the cattle out to graze for the summer in May, they come back in fall. In between then, we check on the ones out there and move them, bring feed, keep an eye on the others we keep here, clean the barns and take care of the horses. Then the guys will work their way around the land the next few days to make sure everything is okay. They’ll look to see if any fences need mended, make sure there’s nothing somewhere it shouldn’t be.”
Laurel lifts her head from her hands, “it must be nice to get to work outside on this beautiful land.”
Brett nods, looking out at his ranch sprawling around them. Then he turns back to Laurel, “are you and Ray together?” he asks.
Laurel lets out a single surprised laugh at the abruptness of the question. “No, we aren’t together. He’s my colleague and friend.” She tilts her head, “why?”
Brett shrugs, “I’ve never heard of the Navy asking for an arrangement like this. I thought maybe that was the reason. Anyone else back East anxiously awaiting your return?”
“No, I’m not involved with anyone. No guys awaiting my return. What, do you think someone else might have called in the favor?” She bats her eyes innocently at him.
The sound of a man whistling comes from down at the barns. Brett looks over his shoulder and sees Floyd motioning for him.
“What about you, anyone who might be off put by my staying here?”
There is a small smile on Brett’s face as he turns back to her. “No, I’m not involved with anyone,” he repeats back to her. Then adds, “happy hunting,” as he stands. The small smile spreads into a lazy grin on his way back down the stairs, and it’s the most endearing smile she’s ever seen.
—
Following that first afternoon on the porch, Laurel doesn’t see Brett for the next week and feels herself growing restless with each day that passes.I’m here to be kept safe, she reminds herself.For him I’m an assignment, this is a favor to Ray.
Even still, it’s just the two of them in the house, and with him seeming to be everywhere she isn’t, this protection detail becomes even more lonely. Laurel spends her days on the porch analyzing the reports and her nights involve a blanket and oneof the books she packed on that same porch, watching the sunset. When the temperature drops, she curls up on the couch rewatching her comfort show, Gilmore Girls.
The silver lining of the lonely routine is that she gets to cook dinner every night in the dreamy kitchen. To show her appreciation, she always leaving something in the refrigerator for Brett as well, always labeled with a post-it note of her own. After the first night, she found the empty Tupperware in the sink, an orange post-it of thanks stuck to the backsplash. So, she continued.
The notes between them have, at least, turned into a regular occurrence. But that’s because they have been the only communication between Brett and herself. The more days that pass, the more the post-it’s hold quips and teases. And sometimes, little disclosures into who they are. Brett shares one morning that, even as a cattle farmer, he’s never had any beef more delicious than the flank steak and spicy butter sauce she left him. His second note next to that one points out that it was his cow she cooked, so he’s happy to share the credit. Laurel’s responding note reads,I prefer chicken. And she at least gave herself a little chuckle with it.
Sitting back on the porch today, she reaches the end of the most recent report she’s working through and looks out over the barns. The fields dancing around the weathered wood structures look inviting and the sun beckons her. It was one of those late August days that still feels warm in the sun, but the breeze brings an autumn chill.
Why was she staying at only the house anyway? She had been wanting to see the horses, stables, riding arena, everything really. The barns are still inside the compound, right? Laurel grabs her oversized sweatshirt off the nearby chair and slides into her white sneakers.She realized early on in her stay that shedidn’t have the proper shoes for a ranch, but they would work to get her down to the stables for now.
Laurel knows exactly which barn houses the equine stalls after watching from the hilltop all week. When she enters, she confirms her suspicion, most of the stalls are filled. This morning, she had also watched from the hilltop as the cowboys took ATVs out to repair a portion of the fence.
The barns were clearly well kept on the outside, but stepping inside, she is amazed at how thoughtfully designed the space is. The two-story ceiling ridge has a line of iron wagon wheel style chandeliers. There is white shiplap across the ceiling and continuing down the walls, and even the floor is pristine, made of grey brick in a herringbone pattern. All of this is illuminated by the natural light that spills in from the glass and iron garage doors in lieu of traditional barn doors at either end.
She takes in some of the faces leaning over their gates, a few taking her in as well. Laurel focuses on finding the one she’ll recognize, Brett’s chestnut, and approaches his stall. As she near, she holds up the back of her hand to him. The name above his gate readsMaverickand she smiles as she recalls Captain Ireland’s description of Brett. “Seems fitting,” she tells the animal. He huffs lightly and tilts his ears forward, interested in her. Laurel runs her hand from his muzzle up to the white diamond on his forehead at his response.
“He likes you,” a deep voice behind her observes. She turns to see the man Brett had pointed out as his lead, Floyd.
“I like him,” she says, smiling back up at Maverick.
“I’m Floyd, Brett let us know you’d be around until it’s safe for you to return to the base. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Montgomery.”
“It’s Laurel, please. It’s great to meet you, I was wondering if you were all aware I’d be here.”
Floyd adjusts the pecan-colored cowboy hat atop his silvery white hair, “we sure are, and we’re all happy to help if there’s anything you need.”
“How about if I need something to do? I’m getting a little restless up at the house all day.”
