Page 14 of Riding the Storm
“There’s a bathroom across the hall. It’s small, but it has hot water and clean towels,” Matty says. “It’s not fancy, like you’re probably used to, but it should be comfortable.”
“It’s great,” I say, and I mean it.
The cabin has a quiet appeal, the kind of peace you only find when the rest of the world feels a hundred miles away.
Matty smiles. “Well, get settled in. And when you’re ready, come over to the ranch house. We’ll get you some lunch and introduce you to everyone else.”
With that, she hands the key to me and leaves me alone in what will be my home for the next ninety days.
The kitchen is cool and inviting. I find Grandma Evelyn at the island, stirring her pasta salad—the kind she makes with elbow macaroni, chopped celery, and that tangy, creamy dressing that we all love so much. I walk over to the sink and wash my hands before joining her to layer slices of ham and cheese between soft white bread. She’s got her sleeves rolled up, her silver hair tied back in a sleek bun, and she’s humming some old George Strait song like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Me? I’ve got plenty of cares—starting with the six-foot-something headache I met twenty minutes ago.
“Grandma,” I say, a little sharper than I meant to, “you would not believe the cowboy they just dropped off here.”
She glances up, not missing a beat as she slides the bowl aside and starts slicing tomatoes for the sandwiches. “Oh, I believe I might,” she says, her tone mild and knowing. “That’d be the bull rider Matty was expecting, right? Bryce something?”
“Bryce Raintree,” I mutter, dragging a stool out from the island and plopping onto it. “And, yes, that’s him. Mr. Professional Bull Rider turned”—I make air quotes—“‘future bronc rider.’ Except he doesn’t seem too thrilled about any of it.”
Grandma’s lips curve into that small, patient smile she saves for when one of us is riled up about something and she’s about to start spouting her old-lady wisdom. “Well, I can’t imagine he’s jumping for joy. That’s a big change.”
“Yeah, but does that give him a right to be rude?” I lean forward, still wound tight. “I mean, I barely said hello before he looked me up and down like he was sizing up a problem he didn’t want to deal with.”
She stops slicing and glances over her glasses at me. “Maybe he was.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Maybe you’re a problem he doesn’t want to deal with,” she says matter-of-factly, laying the knife aside and wiping her hands on her apron. “At least not yet.”
That earns a short, frustrated laugh from me. “You sound like you’re taking his side.”
“I’m not taking sides, sweetheart. I’m just saying, think about it. That young man’s probably spent his whole adult life being the top dog in one arena, and now folks are telling him he has to start over in another. That’d be hard on any man, especially one who’s made a career out of being fearless and strong.”
I huff, staring at the flecks of gold in the green-and-black-veined granite of the island. She’s not wrong. But still.
“Fearless doesn’t mean arrogant,” I say. “He looked at me like he expected me to be impressed or intimidated or something. I told him I was here to help with his transition, and he laughed—laughed—and said he didn’t need help, just time.”
Grandma chuckles. “Sounds like pride to me.”
“More like ego.”
Before she can reply, the screen door creaks, and Matty walks in, tugging her hair tie loose and letting her long curls fall down her back.
“Well,” she says, heading straight for the fridge to pour herself a glass of tea, “that was interesting.”
I tilt my head. “You showed him the cabin?”
“Mmhmm.” She gulps half the glass, then sets it down and leans on the counter. “He’s … exactly how I expected him to be.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s about as thrilled to be here as you are to have him here.”
“Great,” I groan. “Grandma thinks I should cut him some slack.”
At that, Grandma looks up from the sandwiches. “Not slack, dear. Grace. There’s a difference.”
Matty smiles faintly, though there’s hope in her eyes. “She’s right, Charli. It’s gotta sting for him. From what I heard, his management practically staged an intervention to get him out here. Must’ve been humiliating.”
