by Leanne Davis
“Literally.” She smiled at him with her teasing tone and was thrilled when he smiled back.
“Okay, my car, as soon as you can.”
“Okay.” She watched him turn and trudge towards his car. He sunk a few times and came up with his leg hems covered in mud, which also clung to his expensive-looking work shoes. What were they? Heck if she knew. Her heart was leaping and excitement filled her chest. Crap, she wanted to spend time with him. And he came here, across this old farm, specifically because she was the only person he wanted to be with. She understood him where others didn’t. She was the answer to his day.
That was powerful stuff. That was real. She saw it in his eyes just now. She almost let his physical beauty and her plainness destroy that. Their connection was real and she should believe in it enough to admit it existed. She meant something to him. Fun. Understanding. But also, kindness and a place to enjoy the distraction.
She could give him that. Quickly stoking the fire, she turned and ran to the house. She called a neighbor that she previously hired for heavy work. Offering up half a day’s wages, she persuaded him to come over and watch the fire. That’s it. Easy work. Ridiculous. But it allowed her to be free the rest of the day. She didn’t say a word to her dad. He was still in bed. She showered in record time. She rushed to her wardrobe and there was nothing. Just jeans. She owned nothing. Nothing of consequence or style. She had no way to remedy that. She had to choose something. Clean clothing would have to be it for her. It was a ridiculous upgrade from what Hunter glimpsed of her just now.
She wore jeans, a white eyelet top and styled her hair free. The curls fell around her shoulders in natural brunette waves. She put on eye liner, mascara and a small amount of blush to her naturally white face. It was subtle. All she knew how to do. But it did add a bit of definition. She looked all right. Nodding, she smiled at her reflection. It wasn’t beauty. But it was nice. Fine. Pleasant. Add her flare for humor and personality, and it made her a whole lot more. And this time, she had to remember that. She could not allow her nerves to whitewash what she knew of herself and how she affected others, especially the opposite sex.
She turned to run out, tugging on a coat. Stopping dead to calm her pumping heart, she was sure her cheeks were flushed from excitement, as well as the heat of the shower and the speed in which she got herself ready. She could not go out to him with the dewy-eyed girl-crush written all over her. Walk calm at a normal pace. Be the friend he needed. The one he specifically came there to find. She had to do that.
He was in no shape to contemplate anything beyond that. If he did, it would be fake, too soon and a disaster. She would be the terrible rebound and mistake. First up, she must be his friend. As if there were anything more to be. No. Not now. Not later. She was with Asher. Hunter was married or soon to be disastrously separated. There was nothing here but camaraderie and enjoyment of each other’s company. It mattered not what the other looked like or wore or did for a job. None of that mattered because they were supportive, caring friends, people to hang out with and take their minds off life’s problems. So she was going to do just that and quit stressing over how she looked. How he interpreted her and how she compared to whatever he was used to were totally irrelevant.
Chapter 7
HUNTER’S GAZE ATE HER up when she popped out the back door and dashed to his car, setting her bag on the floor as she slipped in. Did she appear a little too practiced when she walked towards him? Was she too measured? Was she visibly containing her walk? Trying not to appear too eager? He was sure of it. The color in her cheeks was high. Her skin was dewy and warm after obviously taking a quick shower. The heat still clung to her skin and the moisture remained in her hair. It framed her face in spiraling ringlets. The brown looked much deeper than normal from the wetness. The curls were defined and uniform, something he rarely saw. Had she taken a few moments to separate them? They even looked a little crusty, like she might have added some kind of a product to enhance them. Something she never did before.
He wasn’t unaware of her crush on him. He didn’t take it seriously though, relegating it to the kind of attraction a person feels when passing another attractive person on the street. They might notice, look, and stare even, but they would never entertain a real-life relationship or try to pursue it. There was no way of hurting her. He was enjoying her. He liked being with her. As she did him.
He almost fully convinced himself of that. Occasionally, he wondered what if? What if he were leading her on? Or encouraging her unintentionally to engage in a friendship he wasn’t offering or wanting? She was so incredible, and he respected her so much, he would stab his eye with a pencil before doing that to her. He never wanted to do that. He wanted to be near her often. He cared about her. But he never intended to oversell what they were to each other or hurt or disappoint her.
Keeping his gaze light on her and his smile pleasant, he said, “You’re amazing. That was twenty-two minutes. You work fast.”
“You mean, I work miracles?”
“No. I mean in washing away all the smoke in a shower and coming back out here with ready to go.”
“Miracles happen all the time.”
He grimaced. “Fine. It’s a miracle. So what do we do now?”
“We should get food. Let’s go to Leavenworth.”
“That’s not even close to here. I just drove through there and it’s closer to the west side than I prefer to be right now.”
“It is. It’s where I want to go. Come on.” Smiling brightly, he rolled his eyes but turned around and started towards the destination she requested. Cruising in silence, they didn’t venture into much conversation beyond the casual observation or shared little jokes. Finally, the hour-and-a-half drive ended, and he was back in town. Snow covered the quaint hamlet that was specifically designed to look like a Bavarian town in the Swiss Alps. The mountains surrounding it were steep, high, jagged and snow-covered, evoking the foreign ambiance of the Alps. Slightly. Cringing a little at the hyped-up theme, it was hard to imagine the city-planners designing a purposeful “setting” of an entire town. Did it happen intentionally or did it organically become a “thing”? The setting worked well as a popular tourist stop, especially in the winter. The pass over the mountains, Highway 2, stayed open all winter, except in extreme blizzards or cases of avalanche danger. Westside people could drive there in two hours, being magically transported to a German-themed Bavaria. Most of the main thoroughfare reiterated the vibe of being in the Alps as well as the hotels and cafés. The entire town was illuminated from one end to the other in sparkling, bright, twinkling lights that lasted from early November to Valentine’s Day.
“Where to?”
“There.” She pointed at a stall that was tucked into one of the side streets. He swung his car carefully to maneuver around all the pedestrians.
“Let’s do that first,” she said, pointing over his shoulder as she came around the front of the hood after he parked.
He turned to see what it was. “What?”
“Miniature golf. When is the last time you played it?”
Sure enough, the little course was open, even in the snow. Turned out nine holes were inside the large building and outside were the other nine holes. Wintertime only had the nine holes inside open. “Never. Never would be the answer to that.”
“You must golf at least. You can probably putt like one of the PGA mini-pros. Right? Business executive and big-wig that you are. You dress for it after all.”
He grimaced and gave her an eloquent glare for her ribbing.
“I don’t golf. At all. Never, I’ll have you know.”
“Your family owns a golf course,” she pointed out reasonably.
“No. My cousin does. She’d argue that her husband owns it. But I don’t play.”
She eyed him and shook her head. “You’re a liar trying to hustle me. Pretend you can’t sink a putt and then you’ll hustle me and get two putts for the whole game.”
“We are not betti
ng on the great, grand game of mini-golf. I can’t play. I don’t want to play. It’s stupid. There is so much more I could be doing right now. Including finding out if I’m still employed… or married… or have a place to live. And I—”
“Have literally nothing better to do right now? This Wednesday at eleven a.m. Really, Hunter, why not? It’s not stupid. It’s mindless and fun. When was the last time you were either of those things?”
He stared at her, looking stunned. When? When did he last have fun? Or do a mindless activity? Or just enjoy something? Someone? And who better to enjoy casual time with than this woman? Kyomi. “The last thing I did like that was when I was being stupid. Nothing fun or light or interesting though.”
“Then we’ll start making some fun, light and interesting memories.”
“Okay. I’ll play stupid mini-golf.”
“It’s not stupid.” Long past him, Kyomi was already on her way to the ticket counter for her silly game. Rolling his eyes and jamming his hands into the pockets of his once super nice suit jacket, he followed her. Completely out of his comfort zone and yes, mindlessly, he obediently trailed her. And she paid for the experience.
“Kyomi, let me pay. I still have my credit card.”
“I will not. This is my treat so you can have a fun time. Remember? So it’s all on me. Grab a putter and come on.”
“Grabbing,” he muttered as he followed her and took the ridiculous club. Its grip was shredded rubber from too many years of human hands: gross, dirty hands. He cringed but carried it anyway. Ugh. This wasn’t fun. It was juvenile and low class.
He was too warm but he refused to take his jacket off. The hemlines of his pants were stained in Kyomi’s ranch snow-mud. Damn. But he’d had to see her. And now look what he was doing. Playing putt-putt golf inside a large, humid building with other idle people who should be at work during the week, but weren’t. They were just like him and Kyomi.
How did he end up like this today? He sought her out and all, demanding her time and now he felt grumpy for having it? He was the one who initiated the whole thing by showing up at her dad’s place unannounced.
Her ranch wasn’t anything like he’d expected. He pulled into the ramshackle driveway and looked around with surprise. The driveway was long and both sides were covered in haphazardly spaced relics of ancient farm equipment, now long abandoned and rusty. Glimpses of the artifacts were still visible under the snow that was pushed to the sides of the one-lane driveway. He guessed Kyomi did that. He’d stopped and stared around at the complete flatness. The ranch was located only about a half hour’s drive from River’s End. But it was in an enclave that was nearly unpopulated at the west end of the valley. It sat at the top of a long hill, the only elevation above the valley floor. It was a small, bowl-like spot with zero water features in or around it. It was much more arid, dry and barren there. No trees. No water. Hunter guessed in the summer it would bake and swelter a good ten to thirty degrees warmer than whatever the temperature was in the town below.
Arriving at the end of the dirt drive was unspectacular to say the least. Half the old buildings, that were neither large nor built in this century, were falling down with loose boards and collapsing roofs. New boards of repaired fencing and some other recently fixed spots stood out in the corners of buildings. Obviously, someone was trying to keep the old place together but it was like covering up lethal wounds with Band-Aids when a full surgery and skin graphs were required. Badly.
The house was hard to distinguish from the rest of the crowded outbuildings. It too was decrepit and in dire need of new roofing, new paint, and a rebuilt porch. There were a few shiny spots where boards or patched roofing had been recently added. They weren’t as weathered as the rest of it. Kyomi was probably trying to make improvements as best she could by herself. She was making an effort to soften the eyesore and do whatever improvement she could manage.
He’d parked, opened the car door and stood up. Isolation and quiet descended on him. There wasn’t a dog barking or a car engine anywhere. It felt unearthly desolate. It instantly made Reed Ranch more comforting compared to this sad and isolated relic. Of course, neither place was within view of the closest neighbor. Not one. Not even an old hunting cabin. These ranches that insisted on such isolation felt completely different too. Asher’s included a spectacular area to enjoy the mountain views, vegetation and trees. Someday, he could rent it out to mountain vacationers if the whole ranching idea didn’t fly. Hunter would have stabbed his eyes out before admitting to Asher how much he truly liked the place. He did nothing but rib him when he’d bought it, complaining how far out of the way and deep in the country was the spot he’d chosen. But truthfully speaking? It turned out to be a steal for all the potential it had out there.
And this dusty old place? It spoke of another sad period in history. Like the setting of a depression era novel that ends badly. The entire pioneering family struggled to make it in the least hospitable environment imaginable, but this was their last and only hope. This place sucked those dreams and hopes dry. Only the ashes remained of any past hope or comfort.
Still, no one had come out to see who’d pulled into the driveway. No one packing a shotgun showed up to demand what he was doing there. How ridiculous he must have looked as a visitor. Even he realized that. Wearing the same suit he wore the night of the great debacle. The suit he wore when he closed the expensive, career-changing negotiation. It was his finest and Francine referred to it as his “lucky suit.” Asher’s wardrobe that Hunter still wore, had nothing remotely work-like or city-appropriate to wear so he donned the suit, the hated reminder of his recent visit to hell. Then, he’d stood before the place wondering if he’d taken a wrong turn miles ago.
With his first step, he’d miscalculated the depth of the snow and his loafer and pant leg sunk into six inches of powdery, white snow. He’d sighed, lifted a foot gingerly, glanced around for a stepping stone to save his pants and shoes, but found nothing. With the next step, he’d realized his suit wouldn’t make this trip or ever be the same.
He’d trudged through the pristine mounds of snow, heedless of the spots where the mud and snow turned to slush from the constant movement of farm animals. There were chickens in a fenced off section, cows mooing in one barn and a few dotting the fields. Some horses were there too, pricking their ears towards him.
There’d been no hope of picking a trail carefully through it. No answer or sound came in response when he’d knocked on the front door of the house. Hunter walked around the small, square box house and entered one of the barns. It was an old milking barn, he deduced, judging by its set up. It didn’t seem to be of use nowadays. Glancing across the snow-covered farm yard, the land stretched far and wide, flat and empty. Some black and brown spots of cattle speckled it. Tall spirals of wispy smoke drifted up to the blue sky. There was a small dot moving around it. Kyomi? No one else was wandering about. The figure was small, and the stature didn’t suggest a male. Definitely a female with a figure that matched Kyomi’s. He’d groaned while he stared at the long distance over the snow-covered field. He wasn’t dressed for any of this, but he’d have to trudge across it and hope she noticed him.
The shoes! Damn it! There was no helping them now. He’d sighed and ducked under the barbed wire fencing, careful not to snag his suit. Then he’d started hiking across the field. It wasn’t like he didn’t know about the area or what to expect at a place like this. He was a ranch kid himself. He’d played in the snow and enjoyed it as a youth. But once he became a teenager, he’d wanted nothing to do with it. The ranch smells had prickled his nose and made him sneeze. In the summer, the fine dust covered his shoes and skin like Velcro. In the winter, the frigid temperatures guaranteed each chore was more chilling and harder than it needed it be.
The truth was Hunter simply did not enjoy being around dirt, hay, horses, cows, chickens, dust, sagebrush, and all the other outdoor elements including snow, but most of all? He detested dirt. He chose to live in a land of comm
erce and concrete, neon lights and steel. It always fascinated and invigorated him. He found his new horizon to conquer. Others might see this terrain as the last available frontier to make their mark on, but Hunter found that in the city.
At least, he once thought so.
Until he’d found himself crossing a dusty, ugly-assed field for a woman who ranched it. A different kind of rancher from him. He’d never pictured this type of… what was she to him? He’d stopped and paused, staring at her. He liked watching her. She was shuffling debris around, feeding the inferno with more fuel. Smoke and ash swirled around her as she poked the embers. She was speckled with dark black ash and dust that covered her jeans, boots, and cowboy hat. Her hair was pulled back over her slim nape. Sweat stained her shirt.
He’d never considered trying to categorize exactly what Kyomi meant to him. She simply existed. She showed up out of the clouds most evenings, okay, every evening since he’d first decided to replant his roots at Reed Ranch. She carried bags of wonderful things that she heated up. She faithfully provided the only decent, nutritious meals his alcohol-laden cells could accept. Always entering with a warm, sweet smile, she would proceed to both tease and goad him, motivating him to come out of the haze of anger and misery he tended to sink into all day. Sometimes he spent the whole day merely staring at a blank wall. He kept replaying the hell of his life, the betrayal of the woman he loved. Someone he loved very deeply. Or so he thought. How could she do this? Even if she didn’t love him, why would she do something so shameful, hurtful and morally bankrupt? No answers or explanations ever came to mind.
The only relief he had was when Kyomi showed up. His cousin’s girlfriend. He didn’t give much credence to that relationship. They had casual sex and were friends, but he respected the comfort and affection they displayed for each other. He’d also witnessed his cousin’s demeanor with Daisy. There was no comparison. Asher looked at Daisy as if she could magically morph into the actual flower right in front of him, and she was all that existed in Asher’s entire world. Daisy commanded Asher’s heart, brain and soul. That never soured. Not for a single moment in all the years they were separated.
