Page 3 of Reuniting with the Rancher

Lily watched him go, a pain in her heart and recrimination in her spirit. His long, lanky build hinted at the man he was becoming. His bowed shoulders revealed the weight of everything he carried. Sighing, she admonished herself one more time before plopping her behind on the couch. Dust plumes rose around her, sending her into a coughing fit as she searched for a local restaurant that delivered. Her asshole physical therapists would be pissed seeing her sit on the low couch her leg not elevated, but she had a month to get their smaller, sadder family settled and if she had to limp for the rest of her life, she’d make this a perfect home for Caleb.

“We are going to eat a good meal, finish getting this house ready for the furniture delivery and everything is going to be okay,” she told herself as she refastened her scarf around her curls and held back tears. “Nothing else is going to go wrong.”

3

LALA

GREYSON

“Shit,how could I forget the music therapist arrived today?” Greyson muttered on his way back to his pickup truck.

He carried his to go order and a delivery order for the ranch. The customer was an L something. The grease smeared receipt was almost impossible to read in some parts, but the address was the cottage he threw in to sweeten the deal for Raina to find a qualified therapist. It looked like she planned on not cooking for the foreseeable future and his shoulder protested the weight of the order and the awkward way he had to carry it. He hoped this meant she was focused on work, that was a great quality in a professional.

The first crew of kids were due to arrive in a month and they just barely gotten everything ready in time. This therapist was the last piece of the team that would make Crystal Fountain Ranch a haven for kids recovering from trauma. If only he could focus on the task at hand… his mind, instead, was consumed by his promise to Ivy that involved a woman who still haunted his dreams. His nightmares, actually.

Gripping the steering wheel tight before releasing it along with a long, slow breath, Greyson reset himself.

“Ivy and the ranch. Those are your priorities,” he reminded himself. “Logan will find LaLa and you’re prepared all you can to support Ivy and after, LaLa will be a non-issue.”

The young teencaught Greyson’s attention as he drove up the road to the cottage. With his tall and thin frame, he possessed the gangly arms and legs of someone who had recently experienced a growth spurt. He had his dark locs banded up away from his face, wore headphones, a Prince shirt, and hummed a tune while he poked at something on the ground with a cane. Greyson gently tooted the horn to get his attention and waved when he looked up.

“Hey there! You’re not the new music therapist, are you?” he joked.

The kid crooked up a half smile that felt familiar before movement at his feet caused him to jump six feet in the air.

“Rattlesnake!”

Before Greyson could put his truck in park, the kid leapt onto the hood.

“Just stay there,” Greyson ordered as he rolled down the window all the way and looked more closely at the reptile that wound its way around the teen’s discarded headphones on the ground, hissing his irritation at being disturbed. “That’s a bull snake. It’s not dangerous.”

“It doesn’t sound not dangerous.”

Greyson chuckled. “Fair point. See his markings? They are similar to a rattlesnake, and he puts on a show with all that fussin’ and tail shakin’, but he’s missing a rattle.”

“He’s a good actor because those fangs look sharp.”

“Oh, they are. It’ll hurt to get bit, but it’s not poisonous.” He leaned in to share the snake’s secret. Caleb mirrored his movement. “They like to pretend they’re rattlers, so predators have the same reaction you did and leave them alone.” Greyson pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of a Prairie rattler, reaching it out the window and pointing out the differences to the kid. He appeared to relax a bit but was no closer to getting off the hood of Greyson’s truck or reclaiming his headphones on the ground.

Climbing out on his uninjured leg, Greyson slowly moved to the bull snake as the kid sucked in a breath and gave a low ‘uh un’ behind him. Greyson waited until he was close before grabbing the hissing snake from the back of its head.

“WHOA!” the young man yelped from his station on the hood.

The Bull snake twisted with indignation while Greyson picked up the headphones. Once he had them secured, he let the snake go, and it shot off toward the rocks. He picked up the cane and moved back over to the kid. “Greyson Monroe. I own Crystal Fountain Ranch.” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

“Caleb Bel-” he cleared his throat. “Jackson. Caleb Jackson.”

The kid gripped his hand firm and looked him in the eye. Greyson liked him already.

“Do you need this to get down?” Greyson moved the cane closer.

“Nah, it’s my auntie’s. She won’t use it, so I took it in case I came across something that could eat me.”

Greyson couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m on my way to meet your aunt now. Want a ride? I’ve got your dinner from the diner.”

The kid hesitated, and Grey understood. “Or let me park the truck out of the way and I’ll walk up with ya. I could use the exercise.”

Soon they were matching each other’s stride. Their slow amble let him concentrate less on his balance and more on the young man next to him.

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