Duke picked up on it and then saw what I needed before I could tell him, which is possibly the most infuriating thing of all.
I throw myself into clearing out my inbox, anything to block out the echo of Duke’s voice and the irritating spark of adrenaline that still simmers beneath my skin from being near him. As soonas my blood reduces from a boil, my thoughts drift back to wondering why Duke refused to be interviewed. Though he doesn’t want to talk about himself, his little stunt did reveal something about him. He is skilled at reading people and understanding what they need. I jot down notes about Duke in the back of my notebook.
Duke: Observant, intuitive, a pain in the ass,I scratch.Assertive and authoritative when he needs to be.Must find a way to get him to sit down for an interview. Also, deep scar on right shoulder, another jagged one that cuts across his torso. What happened?
I jot down a few more notes and decide to head back to the main lodge.
As I walk, notebook in hand, the sun presses against my shoulders like it’s trying to coax me into relaxing.
Dear Sun,
I’m not in the mood.
Sincerely,
This lady who’s not ready to admit you’re making the day beautiful.
I ignore the warm and soothing ways of the morning light. Still, I can’t help but notice things.
A screen door slaps shut in the distance. Horses neigh somewhere beyond the ridge. Someone laughs and it floats on the sweet breeze.
My fingers itch for my pen. Whether I want to admit it or not, the story’s already building itself in my mind. I’m catching the rhythms of the ranch, the subtle choreography that makes this place tick. Maybe that’s what helps people heal and what I need to pay more attention to.
It’s all so charming, like something out of a feel-good Netflix show. Nice try Firebird Ranch, but I will not be fooled. I’m here to do a job. I’ll capture the allure and purpose of this place, but I’ll not be sucked in by tree swings and starry skies and certainlynot by a gravel-voiced mountain man. I push through the door, bracing for whatever the day will bring.
Allie and Leo are sitting in the lobby and have papers and various tech gadgets out on the long wooden coffee table in front of them.
“Hey, sweetie,” Allie says when she glances up at me. “You look pale. What? Oh no?—”
I swallow and sit next to Leo. “Somehow, I agreed to go white water rafting tomorrow.”
Leo’s lips part. “What?”
“It was …”
Allie nods, smiles, and finishes my sentence. “Cowboy Ken. Wow, he’s good.”
I shake my head. “What does that mean?”
Allie reaches over Leo for my hand. “Nothing, listen, don’t think about it right now. We’re going to have some lunch, soak up some sun at the pool and then Rusty and Topper said we’re going to make s’mores out by the fire pit after dinner tonight.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes briefly. “Okay.”
Allie and Leo keep me busy all day, which helps me stop thinking about rafting. By evening, Rusty, Topper, and Georgia gather around the fire pit for s’mores and stories, but there’s still no sign of Duke. I can’t stop glancing toward the dark edges of the property, expecting him to appear.
The fire crackles, the stars go on forever and for once, I’m outside at night without that familiar claustrophobic fear of the woods pressing in.
You know what? I’m glad Duke hasn’t shown up. Let him stay tucked away in whatever secret lair he crawls into at night. I don’t need the smug grin across the flames—or the way he somehow manages to smell like sun-drenchedtemptation.
Why are you even thinking about him, Roxanne? You know how this ends.
That thought lingers as I close the book on my story for the night.
The churnof my insides prevents me from getting a solid night’s sleep, so I’m up early drinking coffee and trying to figure out what inappropriate clothing I’ll be wearing on our excursion.
“Brilliant, Rox,” I say out loud as I pace around the room. “How the hell are you going to go whitewater rafting?”
A soft knock at my door stops me and when I open it, Leo and Allie are in the hallway dressed as they should for a day on the water in board shorts and SPF shirts. I can’t help but smile seeing Allie with a white triangle of zinc sunscreen on her nose.
