Page 5 of Since Day One

“And you’re not going to talk about it.”

“It’s not exactly any of your business.” I pursed my lips, annoyed.

Gunnar watched me for a second, but before he had a chance to say anything more, I decided it was time for a new subject. Something else to talk about that wasn’t about my family. “So, you work for your brother on this dude ranch of his?”

He gave a snort of indignation. “No, I own half. I breed, train, and produce some of the world’s finest cutting horses. He owns the other half and has turned some of it into the dude ranch, while on the rest he runs a rodeo school.”

My heart plummeted to the floor of the truck. Snapping my head toward him, a stiff swallow dripped down my throat. “So, you aren’t some fake cowboy my family hired to come pick me up?”

A low chuckle vibrated from his chest. “Obviously not. Why the hell would I stop at a feed store if I was?”

I shrugged, excited and impressed. “To sell the façade even more.”

But this was no façade. This stranger was not only a cowboy from a different part of the horse world than I was, but he was also apparently a master at his craft. The kind of masterpiece that I wanted at least one bite from before I returned to the world of reining. If I had to put up with my family for a month, it was now looking promisingly as if I might get something out of it I would actually enjoy.

He shook his head, “You know, I only met them yesterday, but that doesn’t quite surprise me.”

I snorted, the laughter filling my belly. Apparently, they couldn’t hide their crazy, not even from a stranger, and I wondered what they’d done already in such a short period of time to get that reaction. Although, I had to assume he was more of the quiet, observant type if he’d already collected the amount of information about my family that he had.

I pointed at the stereo. “Could we please turn on some music?” I asked.

Obliging, he flipped the power button on. Out blasted some old-school country music that soon had me jamming along. We spent the next hour seeing who could name the grunge, outlaw country songs first. They ranged from the new stuff to the fifties and sixties, and I was in heaven.

As the sun was setting, Gunnar turned the truck off the freeway, driving us along the main street of a little, one-stoplight town. The ring of mountains surrounding the town reflected the draping oranges and reds that cast an eerie glow across the small valley from the setting sun. Old-looking shops lined the road, probably family-owned and run for generations.

Signaling left, we settled into the parking lot of a large, red, barn-style store. The kind of general feed store that you only ever found in tiny towns like this. Gunnar put the truck into park and switched off the engine.

“I’ll be out in ten,” he said, opening the truck door as I gave him a defiant stare.

“I’m coming with.”

“No. You’ll just get in the way.” He pushed the door open fully and hopped down. So I quickly did the same, jogging around the front of the truck where he’d stopped with hands on hips like an angry parent.

“I can help,” I said petulantly, crossing my arms. After he slowly folded his in mimicry, we remained locked in a battle of death stares for a few minutes.

Neither of us faltered until he finally shook his head, grumbling, “I ain’t got time for this. Let’s go.”

I grinned, skipping after him in triumph.

Chapter 3

It looked exactly like all the other feed stores I’d frequented in the past ten years. Rows of bags of grain and other mixtures, with a small section of outdoor wear to my left, next to more rows of work overalls and thick winter coats. Beyond that were boots, and past the center rows of feed were things like chicken coops and supplements for other animals, plus horse tack, sheep shears, and so much more.

The smell, familiar and like home, pulled my lips upwards. To my right, Gunnar was chatting with a sales guy he must talk to frequently. He was grumbling about needing to fix the order for the third time in a row. The employee chuckled and mentioned he’d thought so, and I resumed meandering the clothing section.

The jeans that I wore even now were men’s Wranglers. Comfier and more durable than the women’s were, they were also, as I was well aware, not as flattering. I ran a hand over a section of beautiful sweaters, the soft material woven in delicate strands. So feminine and soft. So expensive. So unlike me. Drifting onward, I paused at a wool coat. Not the typical one that I would wear for work, but one with beautiful colors featuring a simple Aztec pattern and a velvety white inner lining. Though it would also attract every ounce of hay that might grace its presence.

It was fancy.

Sliding the soft fabric between my fingers and pulling it close, I rubbed it against my cheek, images dancing in my head of what it might feel like to wear something this spectacular and feminine. Emily would wear something like this. Her daddy bought her everything she could ever want, even though she was in her thirties. Jealousy twanged my heartstrings, wishing that someday, it wasn’t just my confidence that grew enough to afford something like this.

Warmth caressed my back as I lost myself in the fantasy world where I was truly a woman worthy of something like this.

“That’s very nice,” a deep voice rasped behind me, and I sighed longingly, letting the coat fall back in the rack.

“Every once in a while I imagine what it would feel like to wear something like this,” I spoke more to myself than to the distant stranger standing behind me. Only so often I wished I felt as powerfully lost in my feminine side as I did now. Sometimes, when I looked at things like flattering bell-bottoms, or even a dress, I wondered how it would feel to not be in charge all the time. “Or it would be nice to be able to afford it,” I mindlessly added. A chuckle hummed in my throat, and I turned around, still lost in the world. “Sorry, I promise I’m not complaining.”

Looking up from the floor, I was met with Gunnar’s inquisitive gaze. “Didn’t sound like that to me. Besides, maybe someday you can,” he softly replied with less pity than I had expected.

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