Page 8 of Alive and Wells

Releasing an angry breath, he slams a stack of what appears to be junk mail down on the counter, causing my heart to beat erratically. I guess fawning isn’t my only instinct because right now I freeze. Unable to apologize or calm this strange man down when I don’t have the faintest clue what he’s mad about.

With a final head shake, he leaves. I remain stiff with anxiety until his cowboy boots no longer thud down the hallway, and the screen door closes with a bang.

“Austin Wells,” Beryl says with an exasperated exhale. “He might be the one signing the pay cheques, but we all know I’m in charge of the kitchen. He can be a bit prickly, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a good one.”

I give her a small, understanding nod as my pulse returns to normal. We both know what she means.

Beryl leaves me, and my assorted belongings, in a small cabin about a hundred yards from the main farmhouse—one of approximately half a dozen cabins just like it. In its entirety, my new place is smaller than the bedroom and ensuite back home… or, I should say, back at myold home. I suppose this is my home now. The log walls, small log-framed bed, and 1970s floral couch give it a nostalgic summer camp feel. It’s nothing like anywhere I’ve lived before and it lacks the big house’s beautiful antique touches, but it’ll do.

And it’s all mine.

Without the adrenaline rush to keep me moving, every muscle in my body has the heaviness of water-logged driftwood. After dropping my stuff in a heap on the floor, I fall backward onto the bed. My eyelids struggle to stay open, turning the room into a cloudy haze before I even feel my body hit the mattress.

I’m jarred awake by a braying horse. Evidently, leaving KJ and moving to a cattle ranch wasn’t a fever dream; I really am at Wells Ranch. The old-school alarm clock next to the bed reads 9:04. Based on the absence of light streaming in around the thin curtains, it has to be nine o’clock at night.

Good God, I slept the entire day away.

Loud chatter rumbles through the single-paned cabin window. Every tendon aches as I drag my still-weary body to peer from behind the curtain. Seeing a dozen or more happily chatting men on horseback, I duck down and crawl toward the door to check that it’s still locked.

A thunderous rumbling tears through me.Not now, stomach.I curse myself for not eating more than a handful of snacks in the last twenty-four hours, as my body begs for food. Beryl said to go to the big house for dinner or snacks anytime. But it’s long past dinnertime, and I’m not stepping foot outside with all of those strange men out there.

Not wanting to draw attention, I move in complete darkness and rummage through cupboards. Innately aware there could be mouse traps, insects, or Lord knows what else in them. It’s a chance I’m willing to take to avoid interaction with any strange men tonight. Luckily, that’s not the case, and I manage to find dishes, a hot plate, cookware, and more in my exploration. So I won’t need to use my remaining $435 on kitchen supplies. Unluckily, there’s not a single scrap of food anywhere in this room. Despite the pangs in my empty stomach, I curl back up on the soft covers.

I’ve gone to bed feeling worse things than hunger.

4

Austin

Asluckwouldhaveit, the blonde girl crying over a flat tire turned up at my ranch. I stopped to help her because that’s what I was raised to do—I can’t leave a woman stranded on the road. If my mom were still alive, she would slap me upside the head for ignoring a woman in need of help. But if I had known she was on her way here, I might not have been so damn friendly about it.

As if there aren’t a half-dozen or more women in town who would jump at the opportunity to work here, Beryl went and hired a city girl she found online.

Of all the people to hire and places to hire them from.

She showed up in a car unfit for rural roads, wearing a frilly outfit, and she apparently wasn’t interested in actually working on her first day here. Instead, she spent the entire day in her cabin doing God knows what. Couldn’t be bothered to show her face.

Speaking of her face. There’s the other issue I don’t dare mention to Beryl or Kate because, admittedly, it would make me sound like a misogynistic pig. And maybe I am—fuck it.

She’s hot.

The way she tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears, looking me over with those piercing blue eyes, made my mouth go dry. All of it—all of her—was downright biteable. Down to the light blush across her creamy cheeks, when her own brazen remark seemingly caught her off guard. A flouncy top showcased perky, full tits. Tight pants hugged her round ass; an ass that would fit perfectly in my hands. Every part of the girl who showed up here yesterday filled my head with inappropriate thoughts.

And there are plenty of men here who don’t get to spend nearly enough time around women to get it out of their systems.Including myself. Except I don’t have the time or desire to chase after women like my ranch hands do. And I’ve been involved with enough city girls to know they only show up for long enough to cause pain. Which means if even I can’t stop myself from picturing the things I want to do to her, the other guys stand no chance at staying away.

There’s also the wedding band indent still on her finger, which has me asking quite a few questions I doubt I want to hear the answers to.

The bottom line is everything about her spells out trouble, raising alarms in my head that I can’t shake. No doubt about it, her presence around here will be an issue. That is, unless I can convince Beryl to change her mind—which is entirely unlikely. I have a better shot at scaring away the city girl.

I’m leaning back in my chair at the kitchen table, sipping a hot coffee, when I spot her sneaking down the hallway.Cecily.Moving through the house like a mouse. She stops outside the curved archway into the kitchen, wide-eyed as she takes in the number of people moving about, and tugs at her dark green hoodie sleeves. Yet another indication she’s entirely out-of-touch. Somehow, it seems she wasn’t expecting to find a soul around at four-thirty a.m. on a cattle ranch.

She continues her stealthy movements as she steps toward the table, which is heaped with breakfast foods and brown bag lunches for the guys.

“The food’s for those who earn their keep here. You gonna work today, darlin’?” I stare at her over my navy tin mug, a little part of me enjoying the way my comment makes her squirm.

“Oh, um… yeah. Sorry, yesterday was just—”

Beryl cuts off Cecily, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She didn’t need to start until today, so lay off. Now, honey, take a seat and fill your boots. You must be starved.”

---