Chapter 13
Counting Stars - OneRepublic
Cassidy
Iwas nervous. Stupid because I’d been on the ranch before. I just hadn’t spent time with Gunner on the ranch. Not just me and him, anyway. We were going through some of the details that I’d envisaged for the kids’ camp. Lucas was with me, but he was spending the time with Bertie and Mikey, one of the stable hands, learning how to groom Bertie’s pony. We wanted to see if he liked the horses and if it would be a good fit for him until Ruth started working on the ranch. It seemed her current employer was being a stickler about her notice period. It was decided because of that, if today went okay, Lucas would come to the ranch whenever she was working.
Gunner placed a mug of dark, rich coffee on the desk in front of me and flashed a smile. “Creamer no sugar.”
“Thank you.” We were in his office on the same side of his desk, close enough that I could smell his subtle cologne mixed with leather and…man. A very manly man and it was distracting in a way I refused to acknowledge. “What’s the plan for today?”
He took a seat next to me, resting his ankle on his opposite knee, fingers steepled under his chin. The epitome of cool and chilled. Annoyingly so. Three years ago, that same casual confidence had both attracted and infuriated me. Now it just made me wary.
“We need to get a full picture of your vision and decide how we move forward.”
The word ‘vision’ triggered an echo of that disastrous night—him dismissing my ‘city vision’ for ranch kids. I pushed the memory aside and opened my purse, taking out a folder that had everything I’d prepared. Everything that I’d spent hours poring over and collating about similar camps and institutes across the country. Taking out the contents, I spread it across the desk.
“These are all examples of existing camps. This one,” I pointed at the images I’d printed, “in Michigan is the one I think we could base the Last Creek model on. It’s mainly for terminally ill kids but we could apply the same principles.”
Gunner picked up the paper and started to read it. My nerves spiked again because ultimately this was his decision. They were his horses. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was again, presenting ideas about helping ranch kids to the man who’d once told me I couldn’t understand them. It felt like an age watching him, holding my breath to the point that my lungs started to burn. When I couldn’t hold it any longer I slowly exhaled.
“Well?”
Gunner looked up at me and his shining eyes stunned me as he swallowed. The hardness I remembered from that night was gone, replaced by something that made my chest tight. “Those poor kids.” He shook his head. “Call me selfish but I’m not sure I could work with terminal kids, knowing that…” Blowing out a ragged breath, he placed the piece of paper back on the pile and looked at me. Not with doubt, but with something deeper. “It’s agreat model, I agree. If anyone can do this,” he added softly, “it’s you.”
I placed a hand against my chest, the emotion he was showing felt like it was pushing its way into my heart. Making it swell to the point of pain. This wasn’t the dismissive man who’d walked away from our date. This was someone else entirely. He was showing belief in me and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
“I should have picked something else,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Gunner shook his head. “No, this is perfect. It’s the idea of losing Bertie or Billy like that, it, well,” he blew out his cheeks, “makes me feel sick.”
“I know it’s a terrible thought. Any child who has to go through that, any parent that has to go through that.”
We both fell silent for a beat, the air filled with a palpable fear. Gunner eventually cleared his throat and picked up the rest of the papers, flicking through them.
“I like this,” he said pointing at the outside movie theater. “We could easily set that up. I know a guy in Clementine Hill who has all the gear. He hires it out so if we could come up with some sort of schedule in advance then we could be sure to have it.”
I nodded. “Or maybe we could do a crowd fund to buy our own equipment. In fact, I was thinking a crowd fund would be great anyway.”
“Nash looked into it and thinks we can get a whole load of grants, from local government and businesses.” He looked sideways at me. “Crowd funding might be a good idea, though,” he muttered.
“Gee, thanks.” I flounced back in my seat. “Your belief in my ideas is much appreciated.”
His gaze shot to mine. “What’s with the attitude?”
“I don’t have an attitude.” I had an attitude because of his damnattitude.
“You do. What did I say?”
“That crowd fundingmightbe a good idea. It’s a great idea.”
Gunner sighed heavily, with more than a hint of sarcasm in it when he slapped on a smile. “Wow, Cassidy, the idea of crowd funding is an absolutely great idea.”
“There’s no need to be so caustic.”
“Ooh big words, Cassidy, did you think I wouldn’t know what it meant?”
My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, mainly to stop me poking him or worse. “I know you’re not stupid, Gunner. I know you know big words like egotistical, narcissistic, conceited, egocentric.”
