We rode in silence for what must've been five or six minutes.
I wasn't used to this type of guy. I didn't know many men like this back home. Henry Sutter was manly and rugged with calloused hands and bulging muscles. I tried not to let the fact that he was physically gorgeous to look at factor into the equation, but it was difficult. The whole situation wasembarrassing, and it made it even worse to be attracted to him physically. Between the goose egg on day one and the reprimand I had just been given, I wanted to turn into an ostrich and put my head in the sand until we left this place. I thought it might be better if I didn't look at Henry Sutter at all, so I stared straight out of the front window.
It was silent in the truck. No radio. All I could hear was the low hum of the tires rolling across the pavement.
Another minute or two passed.
"How long does it take to get to Butte?" I asked, finally.
"It's another twenty minutes or so to my house," he said. "My errands will take about fifteen or twenty minutes, and then I'll drive you back."
"Okay, well, when you do, could you please just think about dropping me off at the apartment and not bringing your mom into this? I promise, I won't go into your barn again."
"I know you won't because you'll be with my mom the rest of the day, and Josh will be in the barn. I'll tell him to lock up when he leaves."
"You don't have to do all that. I'm telling you, I won't go in there again."
He didn't respond. He didn't tell me what he was going to do. He just stared at the road, and we drove in silence again.
Five or so more minutes passed, and the silence was so deafening that I finally spoke again.
"That knight is about to fork your rook and queen if you don't block it with the bishop."
"What knight?" he said.
"Oh, I thought the chessboard in the barn was yours."
"It is mine. You're talking about the chess game that's happening in my barn?"
"Yes."
He glanced at me with an unreadable look.
"I saw your game. I couldn't help but notice. I thought I would warn you about that knight."
"Yeah, well, I'm playing black, so you should warn Mick Mitchell to move his bishop."
"Who's Mick Mitchell?"
"Josh's dad. But don't really warn him. He doesn't need advice. He'll see it."
"I don't even know him," I said, feeling defensive.
"Yeah, he's off on the weekend."
Again, with the silence.
I thought for sure he was going to compliment my chess prowess or at least ask some sort of follow-up question like how long I've been playing. But he said nothing. Stoic was too loose a word for what this guy was. He was rigid, stone-like.Was he still mad at me for petting the horse?I waited a couple more minutes and then I said, "You want to play me sometime?"
"Play you at chess?" he asked, sounding surprised at the question.
"Yes."
"I, uh, tomorrow's your last day on the ranch, and I've got that game going with Mick."
"Yeah, but we don't have to do it now. I'll be back in a few months to film. We're going to be out here for a long time. We can play then. Or we could play on chess-dot-com, if you have an account."
"Oh, yeah, well, I guess then."
