by Emma Sutton
“Got it.” He stands and turns, glancing out the side window to where our trucks are both parked. “Well, I’m headin’ out for the day. What time are you wrapping up?”
I shrug. “Not sure yet. Hopefully soon.”
Mason bobs his head and taps his fingers against the metal shelf. “Look bud, you may keep secrets for MJ, but she sure has a tough time keepin’ secrets for you. Have fun on that D-A-T-E whenever you go on it,” he grins as he turns, leaving me in the wake of his sarcasm.
I roll my shoulders back feeling stiff with confusion as I squint back down at my laptop wondering if and when I’ll figure out this whole marketing situation. Only then does it hit me with a force from beyond— I don’t know what a possible relationship with Hattie might look like if there is no more Lone Oak Ranch.
Chapter Thirteen
Hattie
Walker picks me up under a cerulean sky at seven in the evening. The muggy air makes the ranch feel like a sauna under the setting sun, but the profound sort of joy I feel when I see his truck pull up to the lodge goes untouched.
“Hi,” I tell him just before he pulls me into a warm hug.
Suddenly aware that someone could be around, I fight the immediate urge I have to pull away. Most of the staffers are at dinner now anyway.
Walker wears a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he smells like spicy sagebrush with an earthy hint of leather, a scent that I’d burnished into my mind since the night we spent talking by the fire pit last week.
“How’s my girl?” he whispers into my untied hair.
“Your girl?” I ask, humming the words against his neck. I squeeze him tighter, the phrase captivating me into thoughts of a possible future with him.
“Yeah. I figured I could call you that now. If that’s alright with you.”
“It is.” I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “And she’s better now that you’re here.”
Releasing me, Walker opens the truck door just like he’s been in the habit of doing when I let him.
Exhaling, I feel giddy in his presence as if the heavens are beaming down in the most glorious of ways whenever he’s nearby. When I climb into the truck, it’s not until I situate myself and fasten my seatbelt that I discover a bright pink sticky note tacked to the dashboard in front of me, just like the one I’d found in the tack room last week the morning after our outing to the river.
As Walker settles himself behind the wheel and takes off down the road, I play coy. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know,” he smiles. “You might go ahead and read it.”
Peeling off the note, I focus in on the scrawled handwriting and study it aloud. “I’m so glad you’re by my side.”
My heart immediately swoons. This is only the second note he’d left for me over the past two weeks, but this whole sport of Walker leaving me sticky notes with touching sentiments finds me as one of the luckiest girls this ranch has probably ever seen.
“How are you so thoughtful?” I ask as he pulls us off of Lone Oak property and onto the main roads, southbound toward Laramie.
“It’s not hard when I’ve got someone like you.” Reaching over, Walker tucks his hot hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. And then, as if he’s planned it this way from the start, he brings my hand up to his lips and plants a kiss on top of my knuckles.
My heart nearly fades away, all of the unsung energy from my frustration with the news about my mother now flowing from me, releasing it on the draft of the open road.
“Windows up or down?”
“Down,” I say over the wind. My hair blows wild and free as he heads us onto the Interstate 80 on-ramp. My curls are a blustery mess with him running us seventy miles an hour with open windows, but it’s worth it to feel liberated like this.
“I thought we could do someplace nice in town for our second date,” he finally says when we pull into the parking lot. “It’s called The Sundry.”
I’d heard of it before but had never been. It’s a tiny spot on the edge of town, tucked into the line of shops that run the outskirts of Main Street. It basically looks as formal as Laramie gets.
“I’ll grab your door,” he says. “Don’t move an inch.”
I smile at him, not able to stop my heart from fluttering at his traditional manners. Any other night, I’d just hop right out myself. But tonight, for some reason, is vastly different. Maybe it’s the blue dress I’d found in the back of my closet with this tiny daisy pattern mixed into it. Maybe it’s the khaki chinos and the shined boots he wears. Or maybe it’s the entire amount of fancy wrapped into this one single date that makes me crave his attention like I suddenly do. Because more than anything tonight, I want to give him what he wants. Whatever that happens to be. And right now? He wants to open the door for me.
When I take his hand, he helps me down from the truck and immediately puts his arm around me, holding me tight as we cross the dark asphalt of the parking lot. His boots scuff the pavement as my flats work to keep up with him, and there’s something about this that feels so incredibly normal. Like I’ve been missing out on this side of Walker for the majority of my time at the ranch. How is it that I’d suddenly been so blessed to stumble upon this caring and wonderful man when he’d been situated right in front of me as a rival this whole time?
“Wait just a second,” Walker abruptly says under his breath as he squints into the distance. Running his empty hand through his hair, he furrows his brow. “Let’s go this way.” Turning, he veers us toward the closest sidewalk. “Alexis?”
A blonde-haired woman spins on her heel as she clutches her bag to her side, completely caught off-guard by someone knowing her.
“Walker, hey! My God, it’s been so long.”
When he unfurls his limbs from mine, the girl immediately goes in for a hug.
“How about that? Alexis, this is my girlfriend, Hattie,” he says, the word rolling off his tongue like he’s rehearsed it in his head for days now. “Hattie, this is my old friend, Alexis.”
Still stunned at his open use of the word girlfriend and also that we’d just randomly happened upon someone who knows him outside of the ranch, I extend my hand to her. “Hey, Alexis. Nice to meet you.”
She waves my hand away and leans in. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m a hugger,” she lilts as I politely welcome her back. “It’s so nice to meet you. What are you all doing in town?”
“About to enjoy an evening at The Sundry. How ‘bout yourself?”
“Oh, I’m actually heading to a yoga class nearby.”
For a split-second, I wonder if this isn’t Walker’s ex-wife. But their ease of communication and the fact that they seemingly get along negates what he’d shared about the two of them and their relationship.
“Wow,” he breathes, running a hand down his face. “It is really crazy to be running into you like this.”
“Yeah,” she smiles with a shrug of her shoulders. “What are the chances? It’s been years.”
“Right.” Pausing, he puts his hands on his hips in a stance I’ve noticed he takes when he’s concentrating on his work. “So are you still doing that marketing and advertising stuff or whatever it was you were doing back in the day?”
With a giggle, Alexis nods. “I am. I’m with one of the shops downtown right now— Mipso’s Antiques.”
“You love it there? At the antique shop?”
Alexis cocks an eyebrow and tilts her head like an inquisitive puppy. “I’m not obsessed with it, but it comes and goes. Why?”
Walker’s sudden interest in Alexis’ job throws me for a loop. I can’t tell what’s going on inside his mind, but whatever this is, it seems to be coming way out of left field.
“Purely curious,” he says. “See, I may have a possible job opportunity of sorts for you at Lone Oak. That is if you’re interested. Could I maybe talk to you at some point?”
Alexis glances at me then cuts her eyes back over to Walker as if she’s suspicious. But standing her
e, I’m just as clueless as she is. She nods and presses the back of her hand to her cheek. “Sure, that would work.” She digs in her tote bag, her bright green yoga mat sticking out of it like a sore thumb. “I have to run so I’m not late for class, but here! Take one of my cards. My number and email are on it. Feel free to reach out anytime.”
“Okay, great,” he says, taking the card. “I appreciate that,” he nods as he slides the shiny piece of cardstock into his back pocket. “I’ll give you a call soon.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Enjoy your class,” I add just before she waves bye to us.
With Alexis rushing down the sidewalk, Walker grabs my hand again and turns us back toward The Sundry.
“How do you know her?” I whisper, not wanting her to hear if she’s still in earshot.
“She’s a friend from lifetimes past. Was close with the ex-wife at one point,” he says. He runs his hand through his hair again and sighs. “MJ mentioned the possibility of hiring someone for marketing. I’ve been calling around different agencies, so I thought I’d see if she has any suggestions.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, meaning it. “She seems nice, too.”
“She is,” he smiles, looking down at me. “But not as nice as you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hattie
Walker and I enjoy supper at our own pace. He’d ordered us the baked bison empanada starter. After that, he dug into a flat iron steak with chimichurri sauce while I ordered the slow-roasted pork with a Yukon mash. By the time we make it back out to the truck with a styrofoam box of my leftovers, I’m full from all the food.
Heading back down Main Street, I turn the radio on while we’re in town with not an ounce of static seeping through the speakers.
“Figured we’d take the long route,” Walker says with a glance over at me as he starts quietly humming the song, something old and once overplayed by Rascal Flatts.
As we work our way down the back roads of Laramie toward Lone Oak, I find myself not able to pull my gaze from Walker’s profile. The meditative arch of his eyebrows, the steep slope of his nose, the set of his strong jaw, the clean-shaven face with which he’d surprised me when he picked me up tonight.
The only thing that finally pulls my attention from this man is the last bit of the orange sun that’s setting with wisps of pink over the horizon in front of us. The sky above still shows as dark of a blue as MJ’s hydrangea shrubs in front of her porch, but by the time we traverse the thirty miles of back roads home to the ranch, the sun is finished for the day.
“You want to head up to the hill?” Walker asks as we turn onto Dusk Road.
Anything to spend more time with you, I want to say.
“Sure.” Sitting up taller in the truck, I now take in all the sights of the goings-on around the darkening ranch. “It can be my weekly trip.”
As Walker changes courses, I spot a brown blur rushing past us. “Oh my gosh! Is that Sophie?” I laugh, completely amused at her constant antics.
Walker chuckles. “Looks like it. What other case of the screamin’ meemies do you know on this ranch? Sophie!” he shouts out the open window. He whistles his sharp call, immediately catching her attention and stopping her in her tracks.
“She should come with us,” I say, eager to spend more time with her now, too. Because the sight of Walker and Sophie together honestly just makes my heart thrum.
“Alright,” he says, throwing the truck into park. While it idles in the gravel, he whistles again. “Soph Soph,” he calls as he unlatches the hatch. He pats the truck bed. But as soon as she zooms around the vehicle and plants herself up into the bed, Walker immediately moans. “Sophie! Aw, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he hisses.
At his complaint, Sophie hops back down like she’s done something wrong and comes over to my window, staring at me in the nighttime. I laugh as she’s probably wondering what the heck some human is doing riding in her spot of her dad’s truck.
“Hi,” I purr, waving at her.
Walker slams the hatch closed and gets back behind the wheel with another groan. “She’s covered in mess.”
“Seriously?” I say, squinting at the pup. She nearly blends into the night with her dark hair, but her eyes shine a certain gold under the nearest lamplight.
“She must’ve been rolling in manure again. Come on, Soph,” Walker shouts as he takes off down the gravel road. “I’ll have to hose her down really quick. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
The Border Collie shoots off into the blackness and trails us all the way up to the first cattle barn, nearly a mile away, racing us the entire time. Even as she arrives, she hasn’t lost an ounce of steam.
Twisting the volume dial on the radio up, Walker keeps the stereo running and hops out.
I follow along behind Walker and watch as he hooks up a nearby hose to start watering the dog, but as the heat of the night sets in, I finally get a whiff of Sophie.
“Alright, Soph. Get over here.” Walker beckons her with the spray.
Apparently, she loves it. Because without missing a beat, she hops over like a gazelle and chomps down on the shower of water as if she’s taking a bite out of it. When she misses, she hops up again, biting down on the stream. It’s not until Walker demands her to sit that she gives up on capturing the water in her mouth.
“Now hold still, girl,” he laughs as Sophie wiggles under the pressure of the hose.
“I can’t believe she’s not scared off by it,” I say over the noise of the water soaking the grass and Sophie, lending the night a very summertime aesthetic.
“She loves it. Probably enjoys the cool water on her coat tonight after such a blistering week.”
Walker’s right— it’s been hot as blazes this month. Feeling the cool backsplash of the water hitting my shins, I suddenly grow a wild string of recklessness trickle down into my soul. I immediately perk up at the thought of such a rousing relief. “My turn,” I say aloud.
“Here,” he says, holding the hose out to me as he continues to spray a prancing Sophie pup.
“No,” I laugh. “Spray me.”
“What? No way am I spraying you in that pretty dress.”
“It’s old. Please?” I nearly beg as Sophie is now seemingly clear of all the manure she’d rolled in earlier.
“What about your shoes?” he calls back.
I kick them off and pick them up from the damp grass. Tossing them through the truck window, I leave them in the safety zone. “They’re in the truck. It’s hot out here. Pretty please?”
“Wait, really?” he asks, his expression suddenly turning curious with a touch of fascination.
“Really,” I nod, urging him with my eyes. “You sold me on the benefits.” My smile inching as big as it can as I stand with all my limbs out like a starfish, I try to control my excited breaths at the anticipation.
“You ready?”
“Yes,” I squeal, not sure that I actually am but craving the cool water and the freedom from another sultry night that could come along with it.
It’s not until he turns the forceful hose on me, careful as ever to avoid my face, that I shriek at the cold, stinging water. It’s not freezing by any means, having set out in the sun most of the day. But to feel the clash of anything other than Wyoming hot and scorching dread is a true shock to my system.
I yelp in glee as I spin in tiny circles, letting him spray me down, the heat from the day, week, even month, washing from me as a clean and still-soggy Sophie joins me on this side of the grass line.
Walker howls in laughter as he continues to spray us down until he finally shouts something over the sound of the water and the radio. “Who’s supposed to spray me?”
“I will!” I say, swirling my way over toward him, my entire body and dress now soaked to the core.
But before I’m able to take the hose from him, he shakes his head with a sly expression on his face. Stepping back, he snakes the hose
around the top rail of the fence and rigs it in place, the nozzle aiming straight up into the night sky, sending cool bullets of water raining down over us. His grin is the size of the moon tonight, and I swear I finally understand that this is what love feels like.
As if answering my thought, Walker takes me by the wrists and pulls me into him, his shoulders smacking into the fence post behind him. He stares into my eyes, his big browns shining copper excitement under the lamplight that lingers near the barn. And just like that, he frames my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine with the indulgence of a hundred different midnight suns. This kiss is one of the most liberating things I’ve ever experienced.
The drops of clean rainwater from the hose slip down over us as Walker eases my face back with a smile. Bringing me close again, he dances over my nose with his own before planting a soulful smooch to my forehead.
“You are beyond everything I ever thought possible,” he whispers as his fingers continue to graze my wet cheeks.
And with those words, I can’t stop myself from standing on tiptoes and rising back up to him, craving another one of his kisses, a deeper one this time. The type of kiss that only happens in fairytales and storybooks about princesses finding their prince. A kiss that could shift the entire range of Rocky Mountains and create a thousand sunrises all across the Wyoming plains.
Chapter Fifteen
Walker
“Well, we didn’t make it up to the hill before dark,” I tell Hattie as I pull into the grass in front of my modest abode on the backside of the ranch. The house is white and inoffensive enough that it melds into the landscape just like every other house out here in the boondocks. Tonight on my swath of MJ’s land, there’s no light touching the place except for the porch light I’d left burning over the deck.
“That’s okay. I can go there any time.”
She sits with her hands in her lap and a clean towel I’d scrounged up in my office wrapped around her shoulders. Her dress is still wet after we tried our best to wring ourselves out at the barn. Her hair is damp now, too, having been caught in the crossfires of our kiss under the makeshift waterfall from the hose.
