The possibility of seeing Miles is definitely not why I pick a brand new red ruffled dress out of my closet before heading up to the ranch house. I’ve just been wanting to wear it. It just happens to be short enough to accentuate my legs, with long, sheer sleeves that make me feel like I could take on the world.
Of course I have to wear the matching heels I brought with me just in case I decided to go to a nice restaurant during my time here. This type of dress isn’t meant for my cowgirl boots.
I throw half of my barrel curls up into an updo, the others cascading over my shoulders as I check myself in the mirror one last time.
If Miles isn’t at dinner tonight, he’ll be missing out.
Miles isn’t at dinner tonight.
It’s a good thing I was going to wear this outfit anyway. Parker is here, however. He whistled at me when I walked in the door, followed by a very louddamn, girl, you look hot. So I guess it wasn’t a total wash.
This time, instead of being kicked out of the kitchen right as I cross the threshold, I ask Isabella if I can help. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I haven’t done hardly any cooking since I got to Wyoming, and I miss it.”
Isabella smiles, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “If you insist, I suppose there’s nothing I can do to stop you. Rinse the beans, then we’ll put everything into the pot to cook.”
I nod and reach for the pot of beans on the stove. “What are you making tonight?”
“Bandeja Paisa. Have you had it before?”
“No,” I shake my head. “What is it?”
Isabella starts to dice what I think is a plantain. It looks slightly like a banana, but different enough I know it’s not. I think I’ve seen them at the store, but I’ve never tried one.
“Bandeja Paisa is the National dish of Colombia. I ate it so often there that when I moved to the US, I couldn’t stomach it for a few years. But when we had Miles, I wanted more of my culture to be a part of his life. So now, I make it once a month. He used to complain as a kid, but now he likes it. Or at least, he tells me he likes it and that’s all that matters,” she laughs, shrugging as she reaches for another plantain.
“I wish he were like that around me,” I chuckle. “He’s definitely not afraid to tell me when I’m bothering him.”
Isabella stops chopping, turning towards me. I meant it as a joke, but she’s not laughing. The smile falls from my face.
“That’s because he’s himself around you, Katie. I’ve seen it plenty of times. Walter is the same. Miles doesn’t want to disappoint me. He wants me to be helpful, not cause any problems to me, especially since his father had a stroke. He thinks I do not see it, but I do. I see him hide all of his feelings behind a smile for me. I see him working too much when he tells me he’s resting.” She takes my hand in hers, and only then do I realize it’s shaking. “And, I see how he is around you. He’s real. He doesn’t hide anything to save your feelings. I’m so glad he finally has let someone in. What Miles has been through already, it’s too much to shoulder alone.”
Isabella smiles so brightly at me, I feel my heart crack. “Thank you, Isabella. I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now you shred the carrots, then you leave my kitchen. You’re a guest, not a chef here,” she swats me away from the pressure cooker all of the ingredients have been dumped into so far.
After dinner, Parker and I sit out on the deck watching the sun fall behind the mountains, casting a beautiful orange glow over the entire valley. I swirl the wine in my glass absentmindedly as I take in the view. I’m really going to miss the beauty of this place.
“I can’t believe you guys get to see this view every single day. I thought Idaho mountains were pretty, but this is another level,” I say to Parker in the chair next to mine.
“You could stay, you know. Then you can see this every day. Move into the bunkhouse with us, I’m sure we can find some room somewhere,” he jokes, eyes lighting up in the sunset.
“Yeah, I’m sure Miles would love that. Me hanging around every day to annoy him. I think I’ve done enough emotional damage to him by renovating that cabin.” I laugh, but there’s a sad tilt to it. Hopefully Parker isn’t paying too much attention.
“Nah, Miles likes you. I can tell. I think the only problem he’d have is you living in the bunkhouse with all of us rowdy cowboys,” he winks at me, taking a sip of water.
“Yeah, right,” I scoff.
Parker doesn’t push it though, just laughs and turns back to the sunset as it finally disappears behind the mountain.
I can see why Parker is so popular with the ladies around here. He’s got a natural flirtation going on pretty much all the time. He’s probably the easiest person on this ranch to talk to. It’s no wonder Miles is always with him, he’s social enough for the both of them.
The sad part is in the time I’ve been up here, I haven’t just gotten attached to Miles. I’m attached to everyone on this ranch. Parker, Walter and Isabella, Codie and her girl group. It was all so easy to fall into. I’m just not sure how I’m going to leave it all behind without looking back.
Usually, when I do jobs like this, I talk to my crew and occasionally some guy at a bar for a little while. There aren’t any feelings involved. There definitely aren’t friend group hikes, weekly family dinners that show me what I missed growing up, and conversations with friends out on a deck while the sun sets. And there definitely isn’t Miles Autry.
My heart sinks when I think of leaving this place. I’ve gotten way too used to life here. Way too comfortable. I’m already in too deep for this not to hurt at all. The best I can do from here on out is to slowly build back up my walls that have mysteriously disappeared.
Brick by brick. Until the hurt is so far behind them I can pretend it’s not there.
