by Alexa Riley
I open the truck door, wanting to see more, but Earl grabs me by the wrist.
“Wait for me.” He exits the truck, coming around to my side to help me down.
There’s land as far as I can see, with barns speckled here and there.
“It’s beautiful here.”
Earl just nods in agreement before going back to the truck and getting my bag. A few men step out of the white barn closest to the house. Both raise their hats, saying hi. I nod back at them.
One thing I’d always loved about growing up on a ranch was that there were always people around. And I love to cook. Mama and I could cook for hours for the men, and it was worth it to see their faces light up when they came in after a hard day of work. It made me feel needed, a part of something. I want that feeling again.
“Let me show you inside.” I follow Earl up the porch stairs. He opens the doors to the house, leading right into the living room. Everything is minimal. It looks like a woman has never even stepped foot in here. The walls are bare, and the only furniture consists of three sofas facing a giant television screen. The living room is open and connected to the dining room and kitchen.
The dining room has a wooden table that could probably seat fifteen people at it, but the kitchen steals the show. I find myself standing in it, not even realizing I’d moved. The countertops are all granite. The island has a sink of its own. One wall has four ovens built into it. The stainless steel appliances practically sparkle. I think I’d marry Cash just for this kitchen alone.
“Brand new,” Earl says, breaking through my kitchen high.
I turn to look at him still standing in the living room as he watches me.
“How many hands are here?”
“Total is eighteen people if you count yourself, ma’am.”
I could definitely handle eighteen people in a kitchen like this. I glance over at the clock. It’s already one in the afternoon.
“Dinner time?” I ask as I start to pull open drawers, looking to see where everything is.
“Six,” I hear him say from behind me as I find an apron and pull it on, tying it behind my neck and making sure not to catch any of the blonde spirals that have come loose from my ponytail.
“Well, I better hop to then if I want to have dinner done by then. I’m guessing that my adoring soon-to-be husband has no plans to marry me today since he couldn’t even be bothered to pick me up.” I turn, putting my hands on my hips.
Earl just smiles. Again.
“No, I don’t think he has plans to marry today.”
I give a curt nod before getting back to the task at hand. Not even married and I’m already mad at the man. But I think this is how our marriage will be. I’ll see him at meals and when he comes to bed. A bed I’m sure I’m supposed to be in. That was never outright said, but that is what married people do.
I’d made plans for that as well, making sure I’d gotten myself on the pill before I’d come out here. I might have landed myself in this situation, but I wouldn’t bring a child into it with me. This was about surviving, and Cash had never said anything about children.
I go to the pantry and look to see what I have that could feed almost twenty people. After looking over the shelves in here and in the kitchen, I decide on burgers with baked fries and a pasta salad. I’ll need to go to the store soon, but I have enough for tonight and breakfast tomorrow. But I need to start with the pies to get them into the oven.
When I come out of the pantry, I scream. Caught off guard by a young man who looks to be about my age or maybe in his early twenties. I’m still a few days shy of my twentieth.
He holds his hands up at my shriek.
“Sorry, ma’am. I was just coming in for the first-aid kit.” He wiggles the kit he has in his hand. “Barbed wire got his calf.”
“Sorry, you just scared me. I didn’t expect anyone.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “So the boss went through with it. Got himself a wife.”
“That’s me,” I confirm, though we aren’t married yet. I go over to the sink and pull out a dish towel I saw in the drawer, wetting it with warm water.
“You might need this.” I hand him the towel.
“You’re mighty small.” His eyes run over me like I’m hiding size somewhere. I am small. I’m barely five foot two, and I used to have a little more meat on my bones, but when money runs tight so does food.
“I think I can handle my chores while still being small.” I reply, not sure where he’s going with this.
“Oh, I’m sure you can. I just meant…” He looks back at the front door like he suddenly wants to leave and not finish what he was saying.
“Well?” I push, wanting to know.
“I should really go.” He backs up out of the kitchen, first-aid kit in one hand and towel in the other, before he darts out the front door. And I stand there, wondering what he meant.
* * *
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