Page 5 of Chasing Home

“No work today?” I ask her.

“The office is shut down for the rest of the week. A water line broke and flooded the back rooms.”

“It smells like sewage all down Main Street,” Anna says, scrunching her nose.

She grabs her black apron from its hook beside her station and slips it over her head before tying it at her back. It’s long enough to hit just below her knees, hiding her cut-off jean shorts and the oversized rodeo tee she has tied above her waistband.

“Maybe that’s the shit under your boots that’s stinking. You’ve been fully introduced to ranch life, baby girl,” Bryce says, one corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk.

She turns and leans her butt against the desk, slinging one leg in front of the other so her black cowboy boots touch at the ankle. Between her, Anna, and the third member of their group, Poppy, it’s a bit disconcerting how often they wear cowboy boots. I’ve never worn a pair before, and I can’t say I have the undying urge to either. Especially at work.

Anna’s are a lot more subtle than Bryce’s black ones or Poppy’s hot pink pair. At least the ones she wears to work are.

Flinging a finger into the air, Anna points at Bryce. “You’re rude.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

“True. It’s my fault for letting you hang around. But I’m not about to turn down free help. Now, get to work. The inventory sheets are on the desk,” Anna says, waving a hand in my direction while she starts sorting her station.

I lift a brow at Bryce as she turns her head to look back at me and extends her hand. The stack of papers on the desk includes everything that she needs to get started on the weekly inventory check, but usually, I’m the one in charge of it. I hover my fingers over the sheets but don’t hand them over to her just yet.

“Hold up. You’re not trying to steal my job, are you?” I ask.

Bryce snorts. “You wish. No, I’m not into the whole salon thing.”

“But you’re into the whole office thing?” Anna counters, clucking her tongue.

“I’m not into either, but you’re not my father, so it’s easier to say no to you.”

“Ah, daddy issues,” I mutter.

Bryce snags the papers from the desk before I can stop her. “You sound like you have experience with that specific ailment.”

“You could say that.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the p.

She nods, letting it go. “Fair enough.”

With Bryce, it’s always that easy. She has a big heart inside that iron shell of hers, but she knows when to use it and when to keep it tucked away. Her sense of understanding is one of the biggest reasons why I connected with her so quickly and easily.

I’m not a talker. I don’t share and gush to people about my life or problems often, and being here in Cherry Peak these past six weeks hasn’t changed that. Even if Anna loves to try and wiggle her way inside my brain more often than not.

I don’t dislike that about her, but it’s just different than Bryce’s cool understanding. I’m still unsure if I fit into their group at all. Despite how willing they’ve all been to take me under their wing, I’ve just always been more of a lone wolf. This new sense of friendship with not only one woman but three terrifies me. Makes discomfort wiggle beneath my skin.

I’m grateful for the job Anna gave me after I stumbled inside the salon on my first day in town. Although I was expecting someone entirely different to greet me the moment I busted through the door. My entire trip here was counting on it. So, Anna’s offer helped bank some of my disappointment.

I still haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do now that the person I was searching for has just up and disappeared. Maybe that’s played a part in why I haven’t let these women into my life yet. Not deep enough for it to mean much more than a friendly conversation here and there and a casual Saturday night out when they drag me out with them.

If I’m to leave any day now, wouldn’t it be cruel to grow close to them?

“Are you coming out with us Saturday night, Rory? Poppy and Garrison should be back in town,” Anna says, finished with preparing her station.

It’s only her in today, and with one final client left on the schedule, I know we’re both itching to go home. Thistle and Thorn isn’t a boring place to work by any means, but some days drag more than others.

I prop my chin on my palm and lean over the desk. “I’m not sure.”

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