by Lux Miller
I haven’t heard much about if she’s hired a second ranch hand or not yet, but I hear she’s got her brother on it to find someone. I’d hate to be whatever sucker he picks up. Ms. Bianchi doesn’t blatantly wave it around, but her brother’s a pretty well-known Capo in the New York Mafia. He might be a genuinely funny guy, and he always has us in stitches over family dinners, but when it comes to the business, it’s no laughing matter to him. He’s as serious as a heart attack ,and I’ve heard that he’s caused a few of those himself.
The first ranch hand is due to arrive today, the same day as the first of the miniature horses. I’m not sure who I’m more scared to meet. The horse’s name is Ditsy, so I’m not holding out too much hope for this one being an easy assignment. Horses typically get their names from their demeanors. I can just imagine the trouble this one’s going to be. I may be more scared of the incoming ranch hand though, if I’m being honest.
The girl’s name is Raven, which is fine. It’s a little unusual, but nothing too out there or crazy. The part that worries me is that she’s somehow related to Ms. Bianchi - I think she said she’s the little sister of Blake’s wife, Aspen. Aspen is awesome, and Blake’s a pretty good guy himself. Even their tiny Tyrannosaurus of a daughter is actually quite sweet, despite her mischievous nature.
But I’ve heard horror stories about Raven. The kind of tales that parents tell their college-aged kids as they spread their wings and leave the nest in hopes that their child won’t do the kinds of things Raven has supposedly done. I’m not the kind of person to judge someone handily on hearsay, but if the rumors are true… that apple didn’t fall anywhere near the tree. It rolled down the hill, through a patch of poisonous plants, and landed in a bunch of brambles.
Ashley has warned me about Raven. She even called her an unholy terror with mood swings the size of Texas. Ashley says Raven can be saccharin sweet and a perfect lady. But she also said that Raven can turn into something like a woman possessed at the drop of a hat. It’s almost like Raven has dual personalities that are constantly at war with one another for dominance.
Whatever Raven may be, one thing is for certain. If Gwen is here, that means that Blake and Aspen are here. And if Blake and Aspen are here, Raven is here. I walk across the barn and scoop a giggling Gwen up off the floor where the Anatolian puppies have conquered her. She swipes at her face and nestles her flaxen head against my chest, muttering something that sounds like ‘Yuck.’ I’m not fluent in toddler, but I nod my head in agreement as I carry her in my arms through the barn and out the open double doors at the front.
A relieved Aspen greets me just outside the doors, her hand over her heart as she pants. “Oh, thank God,” she murmurs when she sees that I’ve wrangled her daughter.
I nod and hand Gwen over to Aspen with a tip of the cowboy hat that sits perched on top of my sandy brown hair. “Yes ma’am. That’s my duty out here on the ranch. To keep an eye on the critters and round ‘em up as necessary. You’re gonna have yourself a right feral, little girl on your hands soon.”
Aspen looks at me as her eyes bug out slightly. “Oh God, don’t say that. She’s wild enough as it is. And I can’t handle raising two little girls that are out of control. Raven is enough. I just hope Gwen grows out of it.”
I smirk as I look past Aspen and see what must be Raven, stepping out of the back of Blake’s car. She looks different than I’d expected. Instead of her face being twisted in a ugly pout, she’s smiling with a air about her that screams ‘spring blossoms and gentle breezes.’ It’s actually somewhat disarming that she didn’t come out of that car with her tiny fists flying.
If it’s even possible, her skin is paler than Aspen’s, and her face is framed in a stylishly innocent bob the color of the night sky. Her appearance is jarring, but the thing that really captures my attention is the intensity of the green that’s embedded in the innocent glance she lobs my way.
She catches me staring at her and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, grinning shyly around it like she’s just spotted something she knows she’s not allowed to have. Fuck me if that look doesn’t send a jolt of electricity straight to my dick. It’s completely inappropriate, but that thing has a mind of its own most of the time. It’s probably thinking the same thing as my other brain. What the fuck is this? This is not what I was expecting when Aspen insisted that Raven is a hellcat. She looks more like a six-week-old kitten that’s only capable of shitting rainbows.
I clear my throat and shake my head as Aspen nudges me. “Hunter, are you feeling okay?”
I nod as a flush creeps up along the edges of my hairline. Thankfully, it doesn’t spread across my cheeks and give me away. I shift my weight from foot to foot, silently willing my dick to take a chill pill. Straining against my jeans is not going to make Raven come over here and suck it. Besides, I shouldn’t even be thinking about her like that. She’s so far on the other side of the spectrum from what I was expecting, that I’m almost ashamed of myself for picturing her plump, red lips wrapped around my dick. Almost. Despite the bait and switch on her personality, I’m still a man, and she’s still insanely attractive.
I silently scold myself as that thought crosses my mind. She’s here to be my co-worker and nothing else. To help out on the ranch and take some of the back-breaking work off my shoulders. Hooking up on the job never works out, but the way that Raven is eyeing me makes me wonder if this is all an act. Is she really as devilish as Aspen says she is? And just what is she thinking in that pretty, little head of hers?
THREE
Raven
By the time the car finally pulls into the long and winding driveway of the Bianchi Ranch, I’m restless. I slept most of the way here, but I’m not really sure how I got in the car in the first place. A lot of my life over the last year has been full of blackouts and missing pieces. When I’m not curled into the fetal position in a corner of a darkened room, I’ve been battling debilitating headaches that have made having any kind of normal life almost impossible.
Ever since the accident that claimed my mother’s life, the doctors have told me that I’m lucky to be alive at all. I’m constantly reminded that I shouldn’t even be here, but sometimes being here is harder than I ever could have imagined. The survivor’s guilt is real. And no modern medicine has been able to touch the crippling migraines. They affect absolutely every aspect of my life.
That’s part of the reason why I worry that this whole ranch hand thing is a bad idea. What if I black out while I’m riding a horse? Or during something as mundane as holding open a gate and I let all the animals out? At least I have my glass apple candies. They’re just about the only thing that gives me any relief.
They’re apple flavored taffy candy that I’ve rolled in a mixture of cayenne pepper and nutmeg. It’s dangerously homegrown, and they burn like hell going down, but the relief from the overwhelming pressure in my head is almost immediate. I just wish they didn’t have the crazy side effect of causing blackouts and other less than desirable side-effects. I try not to eat the candies unless I just absolutely can’t stand the pain anymore, but it’s like they change my personality completely.
When I wake up from the blackouts, Aspen is always ranting at me about the insanely dangerous and crazy stuff that she’s found me doing. The worst part, is that I can’t remember the things I do before the blackouts. It’s not easy to only live half of your life, especially when you’re blamed for everything you do, even if you don’t remember doing them. It’s like I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.
“Raven, stop staring at Hunter like he’s a piece of meat.”
I blink and bring my hands to my face, rubbing them over my eyes to hide my mortified expression. I wasn’t staring at anyone. Well, maybe I was, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. The stress of visiting Aspen’s in-laws for Thanksgiving sent me into a tailspin of nerves this morning, which triggered a migraine that had me bedridden until I ate two glass apples. Nobody will tell me what happened once things became fuzz
y, but I can gather from the side-glances between Aspen and Blake that it wasn’t pretty.
Sometimes, I think it’s a blessing in disguise that Aspen refuses to discuss my “episodes.” I probably don’t want to know what kind of messes I leave for her to clean up, but there’s still a bit of morbid curiosity that plagues me. I’ve no clue what kind of things I actually do or say while my mind short-circuits out of its migraine, but it’s embarrassing enough to make Aspen blush when I ask her, so I stopped asking. She has to put up with enough with me being saddled on her to raise along with her young family.
Aspen shouldn’t have to put her life on hold because I was damaged the night of the wreck. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t mine, either, but I’m the one who’s permanently and irreversibly disabled by it. She shouldn’t have to suffer too. She’s suffered enough burying our mother while I was still laid up in the hospital, clinging to life. She swears that she’s so thankful I survived the whole ordeal, but sometimes I wonder if she means that, or if she’s just saying that so she doesn’t destroy my already fragile psyche.
Aspen pulls my hands away from my face and pulls me up beside her, nudging my hip with hers gently. “Raven, don’t be rude. Say hello to Hunter. He’ll be teaching you the ropes around here.”
I nod blankly as I let my eyes rove over the most beautiful specimen of man I think I’ve ever seen. Just looking at him makes my cheeks flame with embarrassment. He’s taller than Blake, but they resemble each other in more ways than one. Blake is blond with bright blue eyes and tanned skin. He’s what you’d call a surfer-boy, minus the long hair. Blake’s whole family is stupidly gorgeous, including his sister Ashley, who’s practically Aspen’s best friend. Aspen and I used to be a lot closer, but at least she has someone who cares about her that isn’t teetering on the edge of bat-shit crazy.
This new guy is gorgeous. The first thing that pops into my head is pretty-boy. That’s not something I mean negatively, either. Hunter is pretty in every sense of the word. He towers over my diminutive frame, and I’m not even that small. I’m just shy of five and a half feet tall, which puts Hunter at well over six feet. He’s tanned in that ‘I spend my life outdoors’ way, but he isn’t that dark. I bet if he wasn’t a ranch hand, he’d be as white as me.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down as I blatantly check him out. Hunter shifts like he’s uncomfortable with me undressing him with my eyes, so I finally tear them away from what I can see of his toned body through his red and black flannel, butt-hugging jeans, and cowboy boots. I can’t say I’ve ever really met a New York cowboy, but here’s living proof they exist right in front of me… right down to his red and black flannel and cowboy boots. He’s even got a broken in cowboy hat perched on his head that covers most of his sandy brown hair and shields his eyes against the sun. It also shields them from me, and it’s impossible to tell what color they are.
Like he’s reading my mind, Hunter pulls the hat off his head and tips it in my direction as he speaks in the most Southern accent I’ve ever heard this far North. I squirm slightly as my body betrays my less-than-appropriate thoughts. I shouldn’t even be entertaining these kinds of thoughts. My brain was so vandalized by the injuries I sustained in the wreck, that I don’t know if I’m even capable of intimacy. And I sure wouldn’t be itching to jump into bed with a total stranger, no matter how beautiful he may be…
My heart skips a beat as his eyes meet mine. Of course, they’re indescribable. A mix of green, grey, blue, and yellow greets me and I shudder as I can’t tear gaze away from his. His eyes are hauntingly breathtaking with their mix of colors.
I gasp softly as he grabs my hand in his. I’ve got to keep my mind focused and stop all this wandering. I swallow hard as he brings my hands up to his lips, where he plants a single kiss. “My lady. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I giggle stupidly as I pull my hand back. His musky scent slams into my nostrils without warning and alarm bells sound in my head as every muscle in my body tightens. He smells like soap, sweat, and sunshine. I finally find my voice and respond meekly, “All good things, I hope?”
Hunter narrows his eyes at me briefly, then looks at my sister. She sighs and shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but anyone could see that the look on her face is one of warning. She’s telling Hunter to tread carefully. That I’m a ticking time bomb, and just about anything could set me off into a spiral that he can’t save me from. It irritates me, but I don’t blame her. I should come with a warning label.
The funny thing is, Hunter doesn’t seem either shocked or deterred. In fact, the look that flashes across his face is closer to intrigue than anything else. He grabs for my hand again and squeezes it in his. I yelp softly in surprise like his touch burns, and he loosens his grip slightly, but not enough for me to yank my hand back.
He gives me a lopsided, easy grin and glances over his shoulder at the barn. “The day is young still.”
I roll my eyes to the horizon where the sun is beginning to sink below the treeline. I study the sky for a moment to see if there’s a punchline somewhere out there, but I see nothing, so I turn back to Hunter. He chuckles and tugs me away from Aspen. I stumble slightly, tripping over my own two feet.
Hunter quickly wraps his arms around me, pulling me back up to my feet. He steadies me gently and slides his hand under my chin. “Don’t blush, Raven. Everybody has two left feet from time to time. Besides, it’s my fault for confusing you with my ranch talk. The day is always young on the ranch, because it never grows old. There’s always something that needs doing and once you’ve completed everything you think needs to get done, you find yourself back around at the starting line to do it all over again.”
I groan at the dizzying analogy. “Great, more reasons for my head to spin.”
Hunter narrows his eyes at me briefly, then nods and takes several steps backwards. He doesn’t let go of my hands, but instead tugs gently so that I’ll follow him. He doesn’t even bother to look behind himself as he walks to the barn. It’s probably something he’s done hundreds of times. Aspen told me that Hunter’s been on the ranch for years, since he was fifteen-years old-along with his older sister, Poppy. She was recently injured in a riding accident, and that’s apparently what opened up this chance for me to prove to the world how useless I really am.
Hunter smiles as we step in the barn. He motions around, naming off various critters that litter the enclosed space. “This one here’s Fiona. She’s Ashley’s horse. I usually ride Dallas here… and over there, the corner of the barn with the bad aura… that’s Liberty. Don’t let her beauty fool you… she’s dangerous.”
I nod dreamily as I walk to the door of the stall. Hunter wasn’t kidding. The horse is solid black from snout to tail with nary a mark of white anywhere on her. Even her eyes are dark orbs that bore into me. I shudder, then turn to another set of gates set into the back side of the barn. These gates are almost comically small. I point to the only one that’s closed and ask, “What are those for?”
Hunter chuckles and walks over. Without asking, he presses his hands into my sides and lifts me up over the gate so I can see inside. I’m almost too startled by Hunter’s brashness to notice the brown miniature horse that’s struggling against the other side of the stall. Hunter is holding me up effortlessly, his fingers digging into my skin through my thin t-shirt. I glance back over my shoulder at him, “Is it supposed to have its head stuck in the slats?”
Hunter groans and sets me back down on my feet, shaking his head. “No, he’s not. He’s been here for less than an hour, and he’s already stuck. I thought I might have to make some alterations to the stalls, but I haven’t even made a proper introduction yet.”
Hunter’s gaze lands on me as unlocks the gate and steps inside. “Come on in here and help me. This might take a while. It all depends on if this horse is as stubborn as it is clueless. Raven, this is Ditsy. Ditsy, this is Raven.”
I laugh and shake my head as I gently pat my han
d against the tiny thing’s rump. “Is it full grown?”
Hunter nods. “I believe so. There’s six more coming in the next week or so. You may as well get to know Ditsy here, since you’re going to be in charge of caring for the little scamps once they’re all settled in.”
I glance at the horse’s tail as it swishes back and forth nervously, then at Hunter and laugh softly, “It’s a little weird to talk to a horse’s ass.”
Hunter chuckles in response, “I know it’s an awkward way for the two of you to meet, but sometimes even the most awkward introductions can lead to meaningful relationships…”
FOUR
Hunter
It takes me all of about five minutes to realize that this girl has something special about her. Raven is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Despite her supposed objection to taking the ranch hand position, she’s taking to it like a pig to mud. I’ve never seen anyone so in tune with animals - and I’ve been around animals and their handlers my whole life. My sister, Poppy, is studying to be a vet tech, and even she doesn’t have the easy connection with them that Raven displays.
