The divorce cost me enough without adding unnecessarily expensive baggage to it. This job isn’t going to fill my wallet to the point of bulging, but it’s all I’ve got, and I’mnotabout to start freeloading off my parents. Regardless of how many times they tell me to do just that, it’s not me. I won’t let it be.
Hopefully, I’ll have figured my shit out by winter. It’s colder here than out East, and I’m not about to risk hypothermia to prove shit to myself. The people on this ranch wouldn’t ever let me live it down if I turned blue on a saddle.
Rowe wouldn’t.
My temperature heats at the thought of him. Not in the sexy way. It’s more of a simmering fire that’s been trapped for years,waiting for a fresh burst of oxygen. Being so close to him again has messed with me.
He should have gotten ugly. I wanted desperately for him to have shrunk in size and been attacked with pube-like facial hair.Anythingbut what actually happened. It’s a cruel joke to have him be as good-looking as he is. Not only is he at least triple the size he used to be, but he’s ten times as handsome. With the facial structure of a man and eyes that have a tint of blue in the grey now, he’s dangerous in every definition of the term.
One glance at him and I should have turned the other way and got the hell out of this province. I was so sure that my teenage fascination with him died when I moved and married Ethan, but one damn day here, and I’m contemplating if I had only buried it just deep enough not to feel. It’s unfair and fucking ridiculous.
I don’t want anything to do with Rowe anymore. My head understands that, but there’s a disconnect somewhere that has me contemplating slipping out of this trailer right now to hunt him down. I’ve got too many questions for him. After all these years, my curiosity is getting the better of me, and I’m working overtime to try and ignore it the way I once succeeded at.
Abandoning my suitcase on the single bed, I leave the tiny bedroom. The rest of the trailer is one open space, with a kitchenette, a round table with two chairs against the window, and a living space just big enough for a loveseat and rocking chair in the corner. There’s no TV or blinds on the windows. Just a bare console table and sheer curtains flapping in the summer breeze.
I wasn’t expecting a lot from this place. These trailers weren’t built for comfort, just livability. The people who stay in them don’t have a lot of time for TV dramas and relaxing. Days are long on a ranch like this. You wake up before the sun rises and head to bed long after it’s set. That’s just the way it is.
While I’ve been away from this one for over a decade now, I haven’t avoided ranches in their entirety. Back East, I made a name for myself doing what I love. Sure, I didn’t have a permanent trailer parked on someone’s endless land, but I was content going from place to place.
This is already so different from that. I may as well be branded with a PS.
The fridge is of the mini variety and, until I got here, had been turned off entirely. When I crack open the door and stick my hand inside, I find it still warm. I kick it shut with my toes and spin, blowing the hair out of my face that’s slipped from my braid.
Ten minutes later, the groan of a diesel engine comes in through the open windows. I drag my feet to the one in the kitchen and bring my face close to the screen. There’s a black truck parking in front of my trailer, four big tires crunching over the low-cut grass.
My mom’s face is pressed to the window mere seconds before the door is opening. The driver of the truck is quick to hop out and round the hood. He’s young, early twenties, maybe, with a bashful smile and a pep in his step that hasn’t been stubbed out yet.
The hat on his head is slightly too big, drooping a bit in the front when he reaches my mom and says something to her that has her eyes rolling. He shuts her door and walks beside her up to the trailer. I abandon my post at the window and go to the front door, giving it a pull at the same time the cowboy reaches for the handle.
“Woah,” he says, that wide grin not dropping an inch. “Tilly, I presume?”
I lean to the side to look at my mom. She’s choking on a laugh, hesitating a step behind this guy. Blinking once, I look back at the cowboy, fingers twisting around the doorknob.
“Who are you?”
“Tanner,” he answers quickly, reaching for his hat and lowering it to his chest. “It’s nice to meet you, gorgeous.”
The mop of auburn hair on his head would almost be endearing if he weren’t suddenly smirking, like he knows the punchline to a joke that he hasn’t shared with anyone yet. I cock my head, sweeping my eyes up his body. He’s taller than me by a few inches, but his boots help with that. His shirt is tucked inside of his jeans, but it isn’t the same kind that Rowe wears.
This guy is new here, or new enough not to be wearing the Painted Sky–branded apparel that most of the other guys do. Who knows, maybe he just refuses to wear what everyone else does and opted for a dirty white tee instead. It doesn’t matter to me which it is.
“Stop looking at me like that, Tanner. You’re blocking the way for my mom to get inside,” I say, keeping my tone level instead of more . . . mean.
His smirk drops when he stumbles to the side, making room for Mom to pass. She pats him on the arm a few times before joining me in the doorway. Her voice hits me a beat later, quietly.
“Be nice to him. He brought me here, after all.”
Once she’s inside, I huff a breath and force a small smile at Tanner. “Thank you for driving her up.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want me to swing back and pick her up in a few hours?” he asks, almost cautiously.
A quick learner.
“No, I’ll bring her back myself.”
I can tell he’s confused, but I don’t waste my time explaining to him that I’ve got a horse tied up on the other side of the trailer. It’s not like I’ve got hay or a water bucket to keep it here with me tonight. She’ll have to be brought back eventually.
He nods after a minute, letting it go. His hat goes back onto his head as he moves away from the door. “You’re all good, then?”
