Page 19 of Untamed

“Anytime.” She grabs my hand, and we lie there together, staring at the clouds. Turns out I was the one that needed a friend.

Poppy leaves me to walk Betty back by myself. I told her I have plenty of time before my shift, so I can do all of her evening chores. It’ll be good for the responsibility to start switching over to me anyway. Betty needs to get used to someone else taking care of her.

Over the past week, Hayes has stopped in a few times, keeping me company while I sit there and play with Betty. She’s started to come out of her shell, letting me brush her, teach her how to sit and stay, and play with her toys. The whole time, Hayes just sits there, letting Betty and me get to know each other while Hayes and I get reacquainted as well.

So much has happened in the last decade, and I feel like I’m getting to know a whole new person. He’s worked his ass off on this farm, especially during the times Dean had been gone, putting his music to the side to help his brothers. But he did tell me he’s played at the bar on a few occasions when he could slip away.

He’s always been an amazing guitar player and singer. Growing up, it was his dream to be a country music star. As he got older, he lost some of that dream when he realized how hard it is to actually make it in the music business.

“You know,” he told me yesterday while Betty was playing tug-of-war, “I left once.”

“Left the ranch?”

“Yeah. When Dean was back and we thought he was straight. Thought I would try to get out and experience the world a little, play my music in some bigger bars.”

“What happened?”

“Hated city life,” he said with a laugh. “Missed the ranch. I think leaving made me realize just how much this place is a part of me. So while I miss being able to play whenever I want, I don’t miss not being able to see the stars.”

I understood where he was coming from. While I loved the city and how there was always something to do any time of day or night, something has clicked back into place since I’ve been home. It’s comfortable and safe, and everything moves at a slower pace. My road rage may have gotten a little out of control living in a city where rush hour just so happened to last all day. But being home, I want to drive slower. I want to take the doors off my Jeep and let the sun bake my skin on the back roads.

Life is different here in a good way.

As I approach the barn, I can hear Hayes playing the guitar, and I smile. I’ve gotten used to the comforting sound of an acoustic guitar in the evenings. And I think it helps Betty relax, too.

“Hey!” he greets us, looking up and smiling wide. He sets his guitar to the side, and I can’t help but look him over. His face is a little red from the sun today, and his white muscle tee is no longer white. I love it when he wears those cut-up tees, showing off his muscular arms and strong chest. When he bends over and it falls open, giving me a lovely view of his abs…woof.

“You can keep playing,” I tell him when I regain a working brain. “Betty likes a little show with her dinner.”

He watches me for a second but then picks his guitar back up, playing one of my favorite songs as I get Betty settled in for the night. He starts singing the lyrics, his deep voice filling the barn.

We still haven’t talked about how I ran away from him after our dance last weekend. We’ve both been ignoring it, acting like everything is fine — like we’re friends again. But I can feel the tension. There are things both of us aren’t saying, and it’s hanging over my head like a damn guillotine. I’m just waiting for it to drop.

“Supposed to rain tonight,” he says as the song ends. He keeps strumming random chords, playing with different tunes while I finish up with Betty.

“Another thing I missed in the city,” I tell him. “The smell of rain. In Bozeman, it just smelled like metal and dirty sidewalks.”

He hums his agreement.

“Wanna go muddin’ tomorrow if it rains enough?”

That gets me smiling. We used to go mudding together all the time. A few unlucky times, we had to walk home because there was no signal, and the damn four-wheeler was too stuck for either of us to get it out. I think Clyde was ready to kill both of us every time that happened.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“It’s Saturday. I can take a few hours off. What about you? You gotta work?” He sets his guitar to the side and gives me his full attention.

“Just in the evening. No weekends off for bartenders.”

“Let’s go, then. Like old times. It’ll be fun.”

I glance over at him, and he’s just sitting there watching me, waiting for me to say yes. I don’t know why it’s so hard to say yes to him. Over the past week, we’ve kind of fallen into this pseudo-friendship. We both know there are things bothering us or things we need to talk about, but we’re both too scared to bring them up. So instead, we just pretend that everything is fine, that we’re friends again, and we just go on as normal.

“River.” I close up Betty’s little room and sit down cross-legged next to Hayes. “Tell me what’s goin’ on up in that pretty head of yours.”

I glance down at my watch, and I know we don’t have time for a discussion tonight. But Poppy is right — we have to talk about our shit soon, or it’s going to eat us alive. Or blow up…again. But I have to be at the bar in an hour, and I smell like the ranch.

“Alright, mudding it is.” I turn to face him. “But if you get us stuck, I am not going to be the one getting out to push.”

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