I turn back to the corral and the horses. “Yeah,” I mutter to myself. “I would’ve given myself more time to remember why I don’t trust her kind.”
Kali
Ihave to jump a little to get out of the huge truck, and my boot slides a little on the ice before I catch myself to keep from falling in front of the two cowboys who are watching our every move.
The wind hits me like a slap in the face. I’m thankful for the warm wool coat I found at the thrift store. Like all of my clothes, it’s a brand I could never afford otherwise. Before leaving the city, I’d tried to find appropriate ranching clothes, but I recognize my mistake immediately.
The ranch I’ve stepped into is real. Unfiltered. And nothing like the movies or television shows I watched before coming.
This is a real ranch.
And suddenly, I’m not sure my city books, or my confidence, is going to survive it.
I force a smile and clutch my purse a little tighter before raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes so I can get a good look around.
“Here are are,” Anna says cheerfully, joining me on the other side of the truck. Her ponytail bounces as she reaches up to grab my suitcase from the back, completely unfazed by the snow and cold. “Watch the ice. The yard can get pretty slippery.”
I test the ground at my feet with a tentative step. Slippery is an understatement.
If Anna notices, she doesn’t say anything. Thankfully.
A few hours ago, I thought this trip was already cursed. My rental car had lasted all of twenty minutes on the rough mountain road before I managed to bury it in a snowbank. With no cell service and no clue what to do. I was about to panic when Anna pulled up in her giant truck and a kind smile that made me forget how out of my depth I was.
“You must be the reporter,” she’d said. “We’re just up the road. I can give you a ride, and the guys can sort out your car later.”
She had such an easy, optimistic way about her; it was easy to believe that everything would be okay.
And for a few minutes, riding next to her in her warm, safe truck, I did.
Now, standing here in front of the barns, corrals, and snow-dusted fences of this actual working ranch, I’m no longer sure.
I inhale a deep breath, straighten my shoulders and swallow my uncertainty.
Because this is it.
My first real feature.
The kind of story that could finally get me noticed as an actual writer forFlourishmagazine, instead of just another copywriter who polishes up the half-cooked articles the other staff writers turn in.
All I have to do is prove I belong here.
“So,” I say to Anna, hoping my voice sounds stronger than it feels. “Where’s the famous horse whisperer himself?”
She laughs softly and nods toward the two men by the corral who’d been watching us since we pulled up. “Right there.”
I assess the two cowboys, my gaze landing on the slightly taller of the two. He’s wearing a thick black jacket, open over a flannel shirt, jeans that hug his strong legs and a worn, black hat. There’s something about him that seems a little more…polishedthan the other man. Somehow, I know he’s Cash Thorne. Famous as a horse trainer. And the main focus of my piece.
It’s a ridiculous thought since both men looked like they were born from the very earth they stood on. Rough. Wild.
“Come meet the guys.” Anna’s voice brings me back to the moment.
I give her a nod that I hope looks somewhat confident, hitch my purse up on my shoulder, and carefully pick my way across the snow and ice after her.
As we approach, my suspicions are confirmed when the other man, who is equally attractive, steps forward with a broad grin. “Sweetheart.” He greets Anna with a hug and a kiss before turning to me. “You must be the reporter.”
Behind him, I hear the other man grunt, but I refuse to let it bother me.
“Kali Collins.” I extend my leather-gloved hand.
