“Thank you, it’s so nice to meet you,” I smile. “Your home is beautiful. Like, wow.”
“Oh I can’t take credit for it, it’s been in the family for generations,” she shrugs. “Come on in, we are just about ready.”
Isabella leads me into a foyer with a large staircase leading up towards the left, and a hallway leading into a bright room lit by the morning sunlight. I follow her into the room, which turns out to be the kitchen. Rich wood cabinets line the walls, a white breakfast nook sits in the corner of the room with plates set for four, and food already fills the countertops.
Taking some strips of bacon off of a griddle by the stove is an older man who I assume is Walter. He’s the picture of a rancher, worn blue jeans and a dark green plaid button-up.
Isabella introduces me to Walter and we exchange pleasantries. He’s just as sweet as she is. They’re the kind of people I feel instantly at home with. They remind me a bit of Aunt Millie. Kind and very welcoming.
As we talk, I take in the rest of the room. It’s gorgeous here. Just the right amount of homey and lived-in. Framed photos of the ranch and the Grand Tetons scatter the walls, to-do lists cover the front of the refrigerator, and mail piles up on the corner of the counter.
“So,” Walter asks, “How are you liking Jackson so far?”
A grin covers my face as images of my drive into town dance around in my head. “I love it. I can’t believe how beautiful the mountains are here.”
“We’re partial to them too,” Walter chuckles. “You’ll have to ask my son for some pointers, he hasn’t been out and about much lately, but I’m sure he’ll have some recommendations of things to do while you’re up here.”
“That’d be wonderful,” I say. I wonder how old their son is. They’re definitely a bit older than my parents. Maybe they have cute little grandchildren. I bet Walter would be a fun grandpa.
On the opposite side of the kitchen island sits a few photo frames. One of Isabella and Walter together, one of Walter in his younger days with a few horses, and one of them with a young man on the porch of the ranch house.
I squint my eyes a bit to make out who they’re posing with in the photo. Is that who I think it is? It can’t be. Dark hair, tight smile, jean jacket. Just missing a beard–
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening again. Boots clunk against the wood flooring of the hallway, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Oh that must be Miles,” Isabella says, turning around.
Of course. Of course it’s Miles. Of course he’s here.I think to myself, plastering a smile on my face once again as he rounds the corner into the room. Miles smiles at Isabella, giving her a quick hug as she peppers him with questions about a cattle drive yesterday. He looks happy, relaxed. Until he turns and looks at me. His smile falls and I swear I can see lightning crack in his eyes. Apparently neither of us was told about the extra company at breakfast today.
My breath leaves my lungs when his gaze pins me. His deep brown eyes pulling me closer as my heart whispers,Miles.
“Mac,” he says in that deep voice, nodding a hello at me. Why does he always look at me like I’ve stolen the last piece of pie?
“Autry,” I reply, matching his greeting. Two can play at this game.
“Howdy, son,” Walter says from the stove.Wait, what? Son?
The photo I saw before Miles walked in. How Miles acted like he ran the ranch. My heart races as I scan around again for any other clues, and that’s when I see it. Over in the corner near a pile of paperwork on a small desk is a framed newspaper article, headline readingWalter Autry, local rancher, inducted into rodeo hall of fame.
Autry.
Oh my god. Walter and Miles are related. Miles really is in charge of this ranch. He’s not just a ranch hand. I’m totally fucked.
“Sit, sit everyone, let’s eat while it’s still warm,” Isabella says, waving us over to the breakfast nook. We shuffle over to the big U-shaped bench, Walter and Miles scooting into the back section leaving each side for Isabella and I. Isabella sits by her husband, leaving me the seat closest to Miles. Great.
“So, Katie, how are you liking Wyoming so far?” Isabella says as I sit down.
“I love it. It reminds me a lot of where I’m from in Idaho, just with slightly bigger mountains,” I smile and reach for the biscuits, bumping into Miles’s arm with my hand. Sparks pass between us like a firecracker, shocking my wrist. We mumble half-hearted apologies and he lets me have the first pick of the biscuits, pulling his hand away so fast it’s almost like it never happened in the first place. Funny how now that there is company around, he’s suddenly a gentleman.
“Walter says you run vacation rentals on Bear Lake, tell us more about that,” Isabella says, taking a bite of eggs. Everyone looks at me expectantly. I make brief eye contact with Miles, but he’s the first to look away.
I clear my throat. “I do. MacPherson Enterprises has four properties around Bear Lake. I’ve lived there since I was ten, so I’m really lucky to be able to stick around. It’s very much a vacation town so you have to be in the vacation business to live there for the most part. My best friend Hazel actually runs a dude ranch. Not anything like your ranch of course, this is amazing. Her’s is amazing too, but you know, just different.” I take a breath. I’m used to rambling. I do it all the time, in fact. But for some reason, I’m a little self-conscious rambling in front of these people. I think I might actually care about what they think of me. That’s new.
“It’s turning into a similar story in these parts, I fear. The tourism industry is definitely taking over,” Walter sighs. “Sure doesn’t help out us ranchers. Visitors come here and want a high-end experience.”
“I can definitely see that from looking around town. Although, MacPherson is kind of counting on that for the new rental property. The goal is to test out the area to see if we can grow here. I’m pretty lucky I get to lead this up, actually. It’s a very desired area in the business,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s what we need.Morehigh-end rentals,” Miles growls, looking down at his plate.
