“Um no,” I fidget a bit in my spot. “I actually moved in with my aunt when I was 10. She’s my only family there. My parents are in Tennessee.”
“Right on,” he replies, setting my nerves at ease. No follow up questions. Good.
I look over at Miles, laying back in the chair watching the game. His dark hair pokes out through the bottom of his baseball cap, and my brain sends me an unwanted memory. My hands raking through his hair as he pushes me up against the hotel room door, his hands on my hips. I clear my throat, letting the images vanish from my mind.
As if he can see my thoughts, Miles catches my eye with an intense stare. I can’t pull my eyes away, trapped in his gaze. My cheeks heat, giving me away again. His jaw ticks once and he turns away, taking a swig of beer. Suddenly self-conscious, I tuck my hair behind my ears, smoothing out the ends.
“What about you, are you from Wyoming?” I turn towards Parker. His bright blue eyes seem to smile.
“Nope, I’m from Whidbey Island. Tiny little place in Puget Sound up in the Pacific Northwest. I found my way out here by accident and stayed,” he says. I smile and nod as Parker talks a bit about his hometown, coming out to Jackson Hole for the rodeo, then staying to work on the ranch years ago. I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is Miles, sitting in the same room as me, not saying a word.
Four years ago we were laughing together, his lips on mine, his hands on my waist. It feels like a lifetime ago, but then again, it also feels like yesterday. Now that he’s here, in the flesh, I remember it all so clearly. I’m not quite sure why it has stuck with me after all this time.
“Miles, would you come help me with the damn oven?” Isabella shouts from the kitchen, a series of clanging ringing through the air. Miles gets up from the chair, shoots me one last glance, and walks through the doorway to the kitchen. I accidentally let out a small sigh of relief and hope Parker didn’t catch it.
“Listen,” Parker starts, leaning towards me speaking softly. “I’d never tell you what to do or anything, but I’d suggest giving Oscar the Grouch a bit of a break. He’s been a little extra grumpy lately. Lots of not so fun things going on for him lately. For the past five years, if I’m being honest. But worse this year.” Parker gives me a sympathetic smile. “All I’m saying is, I know he can be an ass sometimes, but he means well. He’s a good guy. Doesn’t deserve the hand he’s been dealt. Just have a little patience with him and he’ll come around.”
“Yeah, okay,” I stutter. I’m a bit taken back by Parker’s little speech.
What does he mean by lots going on for Miles lately? And for the past five years? We met four years ago and he seemed fine. Happy even. What could possibly be so bad for Miles that Parker feels the need to apologize for him?
I set my questions aside for now. I can’t get too invested into this. I’m here to do a job, not investigate Miles’s problems. When Miles comes back into the living room, it’s all I can do to not analyze his mood.
He catches me staring once more, but instead of looking away flustered, I force myself to give him a small smile. He nods back at me, then turns to the game once more. I suppose I can be civil.
Dinner at the Autry’s is a series of stories told by Isabella, comedy sprinkled in by Parker, and many, many questions about my plans with the ranch cabin. I’m not used to discussing a project with outsiders while it’s still in construction, but I find myself sharing some of my design ideas, stories from the first week of construction, and even taking suggestions from Isabella on paint colors.
They’re an easy group to talk to. I find myself wondering if this is what it’s like at real family dinners.
Walter is pretty quiet compared to the last time I was here. But, he’s smiling almost constantly, nodding along, listening to all of us talk. He radiates a warmth I didn’t know was possible for a person to have. I wonder how it didn’t rub off a bit on Miles.
Miles, on the other hand, sits quietly across from me at the table barely touching his food. To my surprise, all of the men took their hats off before dinner. Something about a no hats at the table rule on the ranch.
Miles has a touch of hat hair, but for the most part looks annoyingly better without the baseball cap. I didn’t notice before, but his beard has been trimmed short since I saw him last leaving just a bit of stubble.
“–do you think, Katie?” Isabella is saying as I snap out of my trance. I drop my fork like it’s on fire, tearing my gaze away from Miles as quickly as I possibly can.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I ask, eyes wide. I hear a muffled chuckle from Parker to my right.
“Oh I was just wondering if you think we could contribute a few items that have been on the ranch for a few generations to your cabin. It could add a bit of history to it. It would mean a lot to Walt and I to have a piece of our family in the cabin even though we don’t own it anymore,” Isabella smiles.
“Of course,” I say. “Yes, I’d love to. Send me a few photos of what you’re thinking of including and I’ll find a spot, I promise.” Now there’s a good idea. I can mention the cabin includes original decorations from the ranch in the listing too, of course.
“I’m just so excited to see the old cabin come to life again. I’m afraid we let it go unused for far too long,” she says, tucking a piece of silvery hair behind her ear.
“Katie’s doing a great job with it so far, Mom. Just this week she replanted the garden in the back. You’d be proud,” Miles says. The sound of his voice makes me jump a little bit. Did he just compliment me? He has spent this entire dinner sulking, not eating, not talking. And now I’m doing a great job with the cabin? The same one I heard him tell his parents he didn’t want me to have?
“Maybe I’ll stop by and see it next week,” Isabella says, clearly not noticing anything unusual about her son’s sudden change of heart. “If that’s okay with you, of course.” Everyone turns to look at me, waiting for my response.
I nod, “Of course. Come by anytime.”
Walter asks Parker about the recent cattle branding days, and the conversation switches gears. I look up from my plate to find Miles looking at me already. This time, his stare isn’t cold or intimidating. It’s more neutral than anything, with just a hint of understanding. One side of his mouth twitches upward in a tiny, half-smile before he looks away.
I’m not sure what just happened, but maybe Parker is right. Maybe I should give Miles a chance. After all, I’ve seen what he’s like when he’s happy, and I liked it. A lot. Somewhere underneath the gruff exterior, I’m willing to bet that guy is still in there.
A bright ball of light forms in my chest, forcing a smile onto my face. It starts out like this, just a little glow.
Ready to grow with just a little bit of a push.
