by Meg Ripley
It wasn't that Ava had anything against farm animals, she just made a rule of keeping them as far away from her Gucci stilettos and her Jimmy Choo pumps as possible. OK, up until now, there had been no rule on the subject, but given her friend's ludicrous request, it was about time the rule be made.
“You know I could never afford the trip on my own, and admit it, you can't possibly think your meager savings is going to get you through those houses' front doors, never mind walking out with bags of irresistible clothing.”
Christie may have a point, but Ava wasn't ready to back down just yet. Besides, she'd be perfectly happy sitting outside of Michael Kors, watching the wealthiest of society prance in and out. She'd be content to dream of the day women would prance in and out of her shop, adorning themselves in her fabulous creations—just not at the same ridiculous price tags. It was her driving force; Ava loved everything about the fashion industry, except for the astronomical cost that came with being fashionable. It was what had kept her dressed in thrift shop finds as a kid, instead of in the beautiful clothing that only the rich girls could afford. She wanted to learn every couture secret out there and use her knowledge to make the art of fashion accessible to the next generation of less-than-filthy-rich teens and young women.
“Then why don't we pool our money and you come with me to New York?” she posited, thinking it to be a far more reasonable request, even as Christie's eyes seemed to bulge out of her head at the suggestion.
“You can throw on a pair of overalls and look just fine on a ranch. What do you think it's going to take to get me prepped for a fashion house?” Christie asked dryly, surveying her generic brand leggings and oversized T-shirt.
“Besides, you're at the top of your class. We both know you're destined for a glamorous internship and a star-studded career in the fashion industry. What need is a ranch going to have for a mediocre paralegal when I'm finished school? So, it's only fair that you come with me before your career takes off and you no longer have time for us little people,” Christie cajoled, with puppy dog eyes and a devilish grin.
Ava had no doubt that Christie knew she was about to win. It was one of Ava's greatest gifts and her biggest flaw at the same time. She was too kind-hearted. Not in the way that made her a good person, but in the way that made her a perpetual doormat. Throughout her childhood and high school years, she was a habitual people-pleaser, and it had interfered with every facet of her life, from her social life to her academic performance.
However, from the day she was accepted into the Bachelor of Fine Arts in Apparel Design at the Rhode Island School of Design, her life changed. She had found something she was good at, something she could take pride in. Ava was happy, and her confidence soared. When it came to Christie, her spine seemed to turn to Jell-O. Christie was right; Sarah would likely be spending the last year of her degree in fashion hot spots like New York, Milan and Paris. Meanwhile, she knew Christie had dreamed of learning to work with horses since she was a little girl—and even less well-off than Ava—and who knew how long it would be before she had another opportunity like this one.
Ava exhaled heavily, rolling her eyes. Christie's grin transformed into an enormous smile, recognizing the resignation and knowing she'd accomplished her goal. She threw her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly for a moment before standing upright, a frantic look on her face.
“OK, so that means we have exactly two weeks until we leave. I'll take care of all the arrangements. You just make sure you pack something that the cows and chickens can't ruin,” Christie teased.
Ava nodded, trying to mentally envision the contents of her closet and cringing at the thought of manure-soaked crepe de chine pants or mud-splattered silk tunics. It wasn't that her clothing was the most expensive stuff out there—most of her wardrobe was actually comprised of her own designs—but she'd hate to ruin so many one-of-a-kind creations. Deciding not to think about the impending defilement of her attire, she glanced at her watch, realizing she'd been dallying at lunch for too long.
“I gotta go!” she announced, rising from the diner's booth. “I've got a heavy schedule all week, so give me a call this weekend and we'll finalize the details.” “...and see if I can't figure out how to weasel my way out of this rustic excuse for a vacation,” she mumbled under her breath.
Unfortunately, the week passed by too quickly, and by the time the weekend arrived, she hadn't even a pitiful excuse in sight. Worse, Christie had investigated the itinerary for the vacation, and as she recited it over the phone, Ava fought valiantly against the urge to back out. Early mornings, horse grooming, ranch maintenance—which she could only imagine meant cleaning out stalls and other ungodly tasks. But at the end of the long list of indescribable horrors sat the reason Ava stood strong against the innate desire to flee. Horseback riding, training sessions, sunset trail riding and other stuff that she knew meant the world to Christie. She committed the trip—and its wretched itinerary—to the back of her mind for her remaining week in civilization, and did her best to make every moment pass by as slowly as possible. Unfortunately, the fates were unkind to Ava, speeding her through the week at an exorbitant speed and before she knew it, their day of departure was upon her.
She awoke early to squeeze in a shower and prep time before their flight. Slipping on a pair of form-fitting, bootcut jeans and a simple viscose tank top that had a deceptively demure neckline in the front but plunged all the way to the waist of her jeans in the back. She checked her reflection in the mirror, sliding her hands along the outline of her curvy figure. At first, studying in the fashion industry, she'd been terribly self-conscious about her curves, but as time went by and she saw one skinny model after the next, she realized something. Those women, while beautiful, were cookie cutters, exact replicas of one another. Even worse, from studying behind the scenes she had come to see their many flaws; sunken faces, bony thinness, Botox and volume injections and a steady calendar of plastic surgery to keep up with the latest body trend.
In contrast, Ava saw herself as absolutely unique, with a curvy, one-of-a-kind frame, long, golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes that captured the attention and admiration of men and women alike. Satisfied with the woman staring back at her in the mirror, Ava nodded, heading out into the small, common living room of her shared apartment. She grabbed her luggage from next to the front door and forced her feet to usher her downstairs to the lobby where Christie was, no doubt, already waiting anxiously. She did her best to plaster a smile on her face, seeing no point in making this a miserable experience for both of them, and made small talk all the way to the airport and throughout the plane ride from Rhode Island to Colorado. Ava loved to fly, though her tight budget didn't allow for air travel very often.
The four-hour flight flew by quickly, and Ava took a deep breath as she stepped off the plane. This was it; there was no turning back. She wasn't entirely certain what she had against ranch life so much—aside from the obvious muck and mud issues, of course. She supposed it must have something to do with the unfamiliarity of the situation. In truth, the only pet Ava had ever had was a goldfish, her parents both allergic to most domestic animals. She felt very out of her comfort zone when she thought about spending time on a ranch, surrounded by large, strange animals and burly farmworkers. So much land somehow seemed unnatural, too, having grown up in a two-bedroom apartment before moving into the apartment she shared with two other fashion students.
Perhaps it was about time she opened her mind and gave ranch life an honest try—at least for the week—she thought as she spotted a man holding up a sign with their names. Walking over to him, he greeted them both kindly, offering to take their bags and escort them to the vehicle waiting outside, which turned out to be a luxury sedan, pleasing Ava immensely. She had imagined having to ride in the back of a rusty old pickup truck all the way from the airport to the ranch, and was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected luxury ride. Traveling at least thirty minutes to the ranch, the car pulled into a long, windi
ng driveway that lead to a well-kept, moderate-size ranch house.
Ava stepped out of the car, turning to take in the view around her. She had never seen so much open space, and it was...breathtaking. Beyond the open expanse was lush, green forest in every direction and the mountain range beyond drew the eye upward, making it seem like the land went on indefinitely. She had expected to be greeted by the noxious smell of animal and manure, but instead the air smelled...clean.
“I told you it wouldn't be so bad,” Christie whispered, obviously recognizing the awed expression on Ava's face.
“I'm willing to concede that the place doesn't smell like an outhouse,” Ava teased quietly.
A man came out of the house to greet them then. He must have been nearly seventy-maybe older-and as wrinkled as a prune, but he wore a kind expression that made him seem immediately likable.
“Hello ladies. My name's William Winchester—just call me Will, but not Bill. I managed to avoid the name all these years and I don't want to pick it up now. I'm the owner of the ranch,” he welcomed them, extending his hand in greeting. “I'll take you over to your cabin so you can get settled, and then what do you say you join me at the house for lunch? Don't worry, I'm not the one doing the cooking. We have an in-house chef for that, or else all our guests would be stuck with my specialty night after night.” “It's hot dog spaghetti, in case you were wondering,” he whispered conspiratorially, and Ava couldn't help but laugh.
“It sounds like your specialty might rival mine—macaroni and cheese whiz...a la Ava,” she teased back.
“That sounds wonderful,” Christie replied, beaming brightly. “Um, the cabin, not the spaghetti...or the macaroni,” she smiled apologetically.
The three laughed and the two women followed Will beyond the house to a grouping of cabins about twenty yards behind and to the right. The cabins were quaint, but immaculately maintained with a small, wooden front porch on each one. Inside the “grand” one-bedroom cabin—the largest unit the ranch had—was a cozy living room with a fireplace and a kitchenette off to one side. The bedroom was a decent size with two double beds and a large curtain that could be pulled to separate the space. The bathroom was painted and decorated in the same style as the rest of the cabin, but beyond the stand-up shower and small pedestal sink was a deep, luxurious-looking hot tub—a welcome sight but it looked a little out of place in the rustic cabin.
Their luggage was deposited by the front door by the man who had picked them up at the airport, who nodded goodbye and waited for Will on the grass beyond the front porch.
“If you need anything, just mention it to anyone you see working around here,” Will explained. “They all know that, outside of taking proper care of our animals, making sure the guests are comfortable is our number one priority. Now, lunch will be ready in about half an hour, so you just go ahead and take your time getting settled. I'll see you up at the house shortly.”
Will turned and left the cabin then, and Christie turned to look out the back window, overlooking the vast fields and forests.
“Tell you what, Christie,” Ava started, making her way in the opposite direction. “You go ahead and shovel manure and rub down cows...or whatever it is you do here, and I'll spend the week right here in the hot tub. Deal?”
“Ava,” her friend complained good-naturedly.
“OK, fine. You can join me in the hot tub, but keep to your side, and you're the one who has to tell Will that we've opted for a week of luxurious relaxation instead of rustic farm work,” Ava teased.
She turned into the bedroom instead, depositing her luggage there and then reemerged into the living room. Wandering out onto the front porch, she intended to take another look at the scenic forest and mountain range but was greeted by another sight instead. There, not thirty feet in front of her was an impressive, four-legged creature. It's long, chestnut mane and tail glittered in the sunlight, and its eyes met Ava's, surprising her with the alertness she saw there. Next to the horse stood a young man, he couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, rubbing the animal while he spoke to it in quiet tones before taking hold of its reins and slowly stepping backward. The young man's movements were deliberate, as if he were reciting a set of instructions in his mind. Although Ava hadn't seen a horse or its trainer once in her life, she could easily tell he wasn't very experienced. It was interesting to watch; the horse more accustomed to the movements than the young man.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of another figure moving into view from the direction of the ranch house. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad chested. Wearing a simple, white T-shirt, she could decipher the outline of every sinewy muscle. His five-o-clock shadow did nothing to hide the rugged outline of his jaw, and he wore a cowboy hat, shielding his face from the sun, but drawing attention to his dark, vivid, sapphire blue eyes. He walked over to the boy who was stiltedly leading the horse around the pen. He spoke to him for a moment and then stood back, observing. Suddenly, the boy moved more confidently; his steps were more fluid and his eyes were focused on the task at hand.
Ava's head filled with naughty images of the delectable cowboy, wondering if he was as skilled in other areas as he appeared to be in training horses and aspiring, young horse trainers. Perhaps a week at the ranch wouldn't be such a horrible experience now. With eye candy like that, who cares about mucking out barns or chasing away chickens. She'd do it all happily if she could keep that talented cowboy in her sights. Maybe she should make the suggestion to the owner—he'd have a whole lot more guests on the ranch. Hell, women would flock in hordes to watch that man at work. Ava had always figured herself to be the kind of girl who would go crazy over a hot fireman or sexy policeman, but she couldn't imagine any one of them—or even a whole group of them—holding a candle to this guy.
He looked up then, glancing in her direction. His eyes found her, grazing over her body from head to toe. It was an incredibly bold move, given that he knew she could see him, and Ava couldn't help but wonder if the sexy cowboy was more cocky or confident. At the same time, she could feel heat begin to creep into her cheeks and she nearly laughed aloud; she was blushing like an inexperienced school girl!
“Great,” she thought wryly. “Next, he'll have me tongue-tied and giggling like a teenager, too.”
He turned away a moment later, the young horse trainer garnering his attention. Ava turned away, too, heading back into the cabin, still smiling over her silly, adolescent response to the sexy wrangler. Christie was there, all ready to head up to the house for lunch with Will, and by the time they walked back outside the cabin, the wrangler was gone; only the boy and the horse remained in the training pen and he was nowhere in sight.
“Am I imagining things?” she thought half-humorously, wondering if perhaps the country air was messing with her head and she'd imagined the too-hot-to-be-real cowboy.
Wandering up to the house, the door was open for them before they reached the top of the front porch, Will already standing there beyond the threshold.
“Come on in,” he welcomed them, leading them to the oversized dining room beyond the front foyer. “This is Noah. He's um...a wrangler here,” Will motioned to the man walking into the room from the opposite direction.
“Oh, thank God,” Ava thought silently. It wasn't only that she got to see the sexy wrangler again—sure, it was a nice perk—but his presence there confirmed that she wasn't losing her marbles.
“You joining us for lunch, Noah? I'm sure these fine ladies wouldn't object to your company,” Will offered, the light of an ever-ready matchmaker gleaming in his eyes.
Noah was silent for just a moment, his eyes grazing over Ava just as they had outside of the cabin. He spoke to Will without turning to look at him. “I really wish I could, Will. Unfortunately, I need to get a few hours in if I'm going to see what I can do with the new arrival later on.” His eyes stayed fixed on Ava as he spoke, and while she had no idea what he was talking about, it seemed to her there was a double in
nuendo in his words. And if she was the “new arrival,” she'd love to find out what he could do with her, too.
He left then and the remaining occupants of the room sat down at the table as a plump, middle-aged woman brought in a giant tray, laden with food that smelled a thousand times better than anything Ava or her roommates could whip up in between classes.
Will chattered on about life on the ranch as they ate, and Ava had to admit that it sounded a little more interesting than she had originally thought—at least it didn't seem that he spent all his time knee-deep in...less appealing aspects of the job. He offered to take them out to the training pen after lunch to see a wrangler in action, but as they strolled over to the fence, she experienced a small wave of disappointment, hoping it would have been the sexy wrangler from earlier working with the horse. Instead, Will introduced them to John, an experienced cowboy who'd been working on the ranch for decades. He held a long rope in his hand, attached to the horse's bridle, and he spoke loudly but calmly to the docile creature, leading it around the pen. Though he never used it, the man held a whip draped over one arm, and Ava covered her mouth aghast when she first saw it. Will was quick to explain that the whip was never used to harm or discipline the horse. The pressure exerted was only ever enough to express to the horse how it should move. Ava wasn't entirely convinced; she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't a better way to train the horse.
The rest of the day passed by in a hurry, Christie pulling Ava along to one area of the ranch or another. As the two returned to the cabin long after night had fallen, Christie headed for bed while Ava opted to indulge her tired legs in a relaxing dip in the hot tub. Turning on the jets, she climbed in, and instantly she could feel the luxurious heat of the water soothing her muscles. Closing her eyes, she leaned back as images of the sexy wrangler sprang to her mind. “Oh, no you don't,” she chastised herself. This was intended to be a relaxing bath, not a stimulating one, and given that her vibrator was miles away back at home, sexy men and naughty sex needed to be the furthest things from her mind.
