Page 4 of Burned

“I almost forgot to give this to you!” she screamed, hiccoughing through the tears. “I made you…a key chain…for being my…best friend.” I bit my lip and blinked back the tears. Saying goodbye to these kids felt like leaving a piece of my soul behind. No one ever tells you just how attached you’ll grow to the kids you nanny.

The little beaded key chain is attached to my purse, and I play with the ribbons she tied all around it while I sit here on the plane. Something happened with our gate, so we’ve been stuck sitting on the runway for — I check my phone — thirty minutes now. The air-conditioning doesn’t seem to be working either, and even though summers in Montana aren’t scorchers, it’s still hot as hell with all these bodies squeezed in like sardines.

I lean my head against the cool plastic next to the window and take some deep breaths. I’ve never been good with tight spaces, and the anxiety of this new place and new job on top of this really isn’t helping me feel any better. God, this stagnant air! Can they not do something about this?

“First time in Montana?” the guy next to me asks. I look over at him and give him a small smile. I hate small talk. More than that, I hate small talk with men.

“Yep.” I pop thep.

“What brings you here?” He’s clearly a local, sporting a cowboy hat for absolutely no reason.

“Starting fresh,” I tell him with a shrug. “Got a job on a ranch helping with rescue animals.”

“The Blacks’ ranch?” His eyebrows raise so high I can barely see them under the brim of his hat.

I roll my lips and nod. “Yep,” I say, popping thepagain. “You know the place?”

“Everyone does.”

Our attention gets pulled to the front of the plane as it begins to move, pulling into a gate we’ve been staring at for half an hour. Finally, we’re getting the fuck off this plane. I don’t want to be dramatic, but I was going to die if we didn’t soon.

“I’m from the area,” he tells me while I try to yank my stuff from under the seat in front of me. “Grew up going to school with those boys and their sister. They’re good people. They’ll take good care of you.”

Finally, my backpack dislodges from whatever the hell it was stuck on, and I’m able to pull it up onto my lap. I awkwardly try to put it on while not getting all up in his personal space.

“Well, that’s good.” Another polite smile. “But I can hold my own.”

“I’m sure you can.” There it is. That’s what I was waiting for. The once-over. His eyes roam over my body like it’s theMona Lisa, appreciating every curve that’s on display. “You look like someone who can put a man in their place.”

“I can.” I raise an eyebrow. “Eyes front, soldier.”

He gives a hearty laugh and a little salute before standing to walk out into the aisle. Standing and stretching my legs feels amazing after being crammed into that tight little space. It’s not that I’m tall; I’m not. I’m 5’5” on a good day. But I’m not the thinnest girl, and that makes it tough when all of the seats are built for a size two.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my body. I have no qualms with the size eighteen I buy in jeans and the thighs that stretch them out. I just wish the rest of the world would get its ass in line.

“Good luck with your new job,” he says, glancing at me one last time with humor in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll see you around town sometime.”

“Maybe.”

I stare at his back as we walk down the aisle of the plane. He’s not bad-looking, but the last thing I want to do is get involved with someone in a town as small as Cane Creek. Growing up in a town like that, I know how the rumor mill works. It’ll churn out so much shit so fast thatit’ll make your head spin. And I’m here to start something fun, and men — in my experience — are not fun.

“Name’s Gray.”

He holds his hand out for me to shake once we make our way into the airport. The sweet, air-conditioned space calms my nerves, and I take a deep breath. It finally feels like I can breathe.

“Poppy,” I say as I take his hand. It’s quick, though. I don’t let it linger. “Nice to meet you, Gray. But the ladies’ room is calling.”

I break off from the direction he’s walking and give him a little wave before turning my back on him. The last thing I wanted to do was walk all the way to baggage claim with him, making small talk while he worked up the courage to ask me for my number. So I take my time in the restroom to splash some cold water on my face and run a brush through my hair.

I’m starting to worry that I should’ve done something different with my hair. In San Francisco, no one bats an eye when you have fun colors in your hair, but in Cane Creek, Montana? It may draw attention I don’t really want. And now I’m worried that my new employers are going to take one look at my peach-colored hair and regret hiring me for the job.

Too late now. And I like the way it looks next to my splattering of freckles and hazel eyes.

When I feel like it’s been long enough that Gray can’t possibly still be hanging around, I walk down to baggage claim. It was hard to fit my entire life into two suitcases, but I’ve done it enough in the last eight years that I made it work. I didn’t want to show up with too much shit. I imagine they’re already going to think a certain way about me since I’m coming from the big city.

Pulling hard, I manage to get both suitcases off the revolving belt. They fall to the ground with loud clunks, and my cheeks burn. Everyone around me is dressed in boots, jeans, and hats. My sundress and sandals stick out a bit more than I thought they would. I’m going to have to go shopping. I do not want to be labeled the high-maintenance city girl.

“Where to?” the taxi driver asks after loading my luggage into the trunk of his car. I’m sitting in the back seat, digging through my purse and backpack to try and find the hair tie IswearI left out of my luggage.

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