Page 5 of Stay for Me

“Nothing else?” he prompted, still stuck on me not having a last name.

“Mags is the only name I got. Sorry to disappoint.”

Langston grunted and looked to his boots. After exactly ten seconds, he lifted his head and answered my silent prayer. “Right, well, if you want work, I have some for you. You’ll get cash at the end of the month. I don’t clock hours, but if I have to come into the bunkhouse to wake your ass up, you’re gone. Understood?”

I nodded.

“This job is hard work and, again, little pay. Hopefully, in a few years, should you choose to stay on, I’ll have more for you. Right now, I’m just trying to keep the fucking ranch above water.”

“You don’t have explain anything to me,” I told him. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He stared at me for a another moment then, a harsh winter wind swirling around us.

“Let’s get you settled in. Work starts in the morning.”

With that, he led me into the bunkhouse, introduced me to an older cowboy and his son, gave me a bunk, and told me to be in the barn before sunrise.

A few weeks later, when the snow was still on the ground, settled and waiting for the sun to melt it, I was deep in my work, pulling long days and even longer nights. My injury had proved to be only a slight problem, but I didn’t make it known to the cowboys around me. I kept my head down and worked.

Jigs, the old bastard in charge of teaching me the ropes, had been impressed with how quickly I caught on. In a few days, after the corral had been cleared of the fresh snow, he was going to start teaching me how to ride so by the time spring came, I would be ready to help with the herd.

I leaned the shovel against the horse stall, surveying my work, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. I’d been in the barn since four AM, getting a head start on my chores because I couldn’t sleep. Then again, I could never fuckin’ sleep. Denver wouldn’t be down here until later, after his son’s doctor’s appointment, and Beau was visiting his girlfriend at her college. It was just me and the old man on the ranch this morning.

So when I heard the loud roar of a shitty sounding engine coming from outside the barn, my body went on alert. I made my way to the barn doors, knowing the horses would whine when I opened them again. They were sick of the cold almost as much as I was. I heard the familiar sound of squeaky breaks, followed by a car door slamming as I pulled open the doors. My eyes went directly to a shitty looking Honda Civic parked in the muddy, iced covered gravel.

It was a dark day, the usual overcast winter sky sucking the color and light out of everything around Hallow Ranch, reminding me of my own soul.

Lifeless.

Colorless.

Dark.

As I stared at the car, a sound filled my ears. Sweet.

The sweetest sound I’d ever heard in my life.

My head snapped to the left, my eyes locking in on a light, a golden little light in the middle of this barren land.

Her hair was blonde, but not just any blonde—the color of honey. Her skin was fair, a beauty mark by her right eye, and those eyes—Jesus.

“Hi,” the woman breathed out.

Jesus, but she was fuckin’ real, wasn’t she?

My eyes dropped away from her stunning hazel ones, taking in her appearance and noticing two things. One, it was too damn cold out here for her to wearing that dress. Two, she loved color. Her dress was yellow, tights underneath it a dark purple, her rain boots hunter green, and there was thin pink scarf around her neck that was doing nothing to keep her warm.

“I’m just here to see Denver,” the woman continued, brushing some of that honey hair out of her face, her teeth chattering. “Is he here?”

I shook my head.

She moved closer to me, and I watched as frustration came over her eyes. “Do you know where he is?” she asked, standing less than three feet from me now.

The wind blew then, coming from behind her, and her scent—Christ.

Sweet.

So damn sweet.

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