by Parker, Ali
“What? No—well, maybe it is. It’s just—” then she groaned in frustration and her freckled nose wrinkled up a bit as her eyes narrowed at me. “Do you always get what you want?”
“Yes ma’am,” I grinned.
“You’re not staying,” she stomped her foot lightly. She was trying to be mad, but it only made her look sexy as hell.
“Fine, I’ll leave tomorrow. As long as you put me up for tonight,” I said.
She shook her head at me. It was obvious she was exasperated by my attempt to help her. “Come inside then. You want to help so bad, then you can help make dinner.” She turned on her heels and stomped up the steps to the porch.
“Yes ma’am,” I grabbed my duffle bag off the ground and followed her inside her home. Her hips swayed in that flimsy fabric and I felt an ache grow inside of me. I wanted to touch her. Somehow, seeing her was oddly satisfying. It had been an itch I’d wanted to scratch ever since I saw her at the fairgrounds. Now that itch had been scratched as my eyes were able to feast on her beauty once more. But now—it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
From the outside, the house was just as I remembered it. It reminded me a lot of my own home. There was a large wrap-around porch, and it was a nice whitewashed Craftsman style home that had been there since the 1950s. It was a very traditional ranch house which was probably what I liked about it. That is what I liked about the entire Larson Dude Ranch property.
“You can leave your bag there for now. Come on into the kitchen. Want some coffee? You’ve obviously had a long drive,” she said.
“Sure, that would be great,” I put my duffle bag on the floor at the bottom of the stairs where she had pointed, then took off my hat and set it on the banister. Then I followed her into the kitchen.
I watched her as she put on a fresh pot of coffee. She kept giving me a look and shaking her head, as though she couldn’t believe I had driven all the way out to the Texas Hill Country just to argue with her. I could only smile as I sat down at the kitchen table.
“Do you have guests?” I asked, as she poured me a cup of coffee and slid it in front of me. Then she poured one for herself and sat down at the table.
“They all checked out earlier today,” she said, looking down at the table.
“And tomorrow?”
“Nothing until Friday,” She said.
I was shocked by that information. When I was working there, it was booked all week every week solid. You could never catch a break.
“I see—”
She looked up at me through her lashes and her gray eyes looked a little sad. “Yeah, that’s the way it’s been for almost a year now, a little more than a year. Ever since the new neighbors moved in,” she said.
“The neighbors? What do you mean? Who are they and what do they have to do with the business of this ranch?” I took a sip of the hot black liquid. It was delicious, with a nutty flavor, Texas Pecan. It was good to have coffee after the long trip to the Texas Hill Country. I could already feel it waking me up.
“It’s the Saddle Ranch Complex, operated by the Taylor family. They built it a little more than a year ago and have been booked solid since they opened. It’s a dude ranch just like this one, only a lot more modern. They are on top of the latest social media and have state-of-the-art facilities and all kinds of gadgets. The guests stay in five star rated suites, not these cowboy bungalows like I have here. I guess it’s what the guests want now. Hell, they have even gotten some of our repeat customers, families that used to come out here every summer are now going there.”
“What the hell? Who does that? Who builds a competing business right next to another one? They sound like real jerks, this Taylor family. No self-respecting Texan would do that to another Texan,” I said, getting angry. It was true. There was supposed to be some unspoken respect between us ranchers, and we all followed this sort of code of pride and respect. These Taylors seem to have none. I didn’t know who they were, but I already hated them.
“That’s what I thought when they moved in, but clearly they don’t feel the same way. And that is the reason the Larson Dude Ranch is suffering.”
“Where is this Saddle Complex? I have an inkling to go give them a piece of my mind,” I said.
She let out a soft laugh. “I appreciate your passion, Dylan, but there’s nothing to be done.” She got up from the table, obviously wanting to change the subject. “I am going to make some pasta for dinner, hope that’s all right. And you are going to help by washing and cutting these cherry tomatoes in half,” she said as she handed me a basket of cherry tomatoes.
“I’m right on top of it.” I washed my hands and then began to wash the tomatoes. She put water on to boing for the pasta.
“I really enjoyed the drive out here. It brought back a lot of memories. I really used to love coming out here and working in the summers,” I said.
“We liked having you around, too. Times were different then, though,” she said, as she pulled out fresh basil, olive oil, and a small cup of pine nuts. She started to put them in a blender with parmesan cheese to make pesto.
“Yes, those were different times. I was a dumb teenager back then, but now I’m a man,” I said.
She froze with ingredients in mid-air for a second. Then she continued without looking at me. “Yes, you are.” I didn’t know why she had stopped like that, but it was definitely interesting.
“What else? I asked, finishing cutting the tomatoes on the cutting board.
“I was going to cook some chicken breasts go with this,” she said.
“I like breasts,” I said.
We both grew silent. Then erupted into laughter.
“That came out all wrong, but you know what I meant,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed. This was the second time I had grown tongue-tied with her and I had only been there for fifteen minutes or so.
“I understand,” she said.
“In the fridge, right?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I opened the door and she pointed at two chicken breasts marinating in a bowl. I grabbed them and threw them in a pan, searing them. She smiled as she looked at me.
“What?” I asked, wondering about her smile.
“Nothing, it just always makes me smile when I see a tough cowboy cooking,” she said.
My eyebrows raised. “Tough? You think I’m tough?”
“Just a little bit.”
“I take that as a compliment, ma’am.”
She laughed again, and I liked hearing that laugh. In fact, I liked everything about her. I didn’t know what Helen thought of me, but I knew what I thought of her. She was turning me on. Something about that felt really good, but also a little naughty. She was an older woman and formerly off-limits, but I didn’t care because she wasn’t off-limits now.
A few minutes later we were sitting at the kitchen table eating the fruits of our labor, pesto rigatoni with cherry tomatoes, olive oil and citrus chicken breast. It was damn good. We made small talk as we ate, finishing off the meal.
“So, are things running about the same? The structure that you have for the guests, I mean?” I asked the question while taking the last bite of food on my plate.
“Almost. There have been a few changes since you were last here, but not many. We still try to give the guest a true cowboy experience, as much as we can.”
“Just the way Steve liked it.” As soon I said it, I felt regret wash over me, it was hard to adjust to the fact that he was no longer with us. It was still new information and hadn’t completely sunk in.
The smile fell from her face and I wanted to punch myself for bringing sadness to her when we were having such a good time cooking and eating dinner.
“Helen, I’m so sorry. I’m still getting used to—”
“It’s alright,” she said, but quickly stood up and grabbed the plates, taking them to the sink, not wanting me to look into her eyes. I felt like such a fool. I walked over and stood beside her.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Helen.
Please forgive me,” I said.
She turned her head and looked up at me. Those stunning gray eyes were swimming with unshed tears, which was like a knife to my heart. “I just miss him a lot.”
“Of course you do” I said, pulling her into my arms and giving her a hug. Her delicate arms wrapped around my waist and she rested her cheek on my chest. She smelled amazing, like jasmine. Having her body against mine was causing a reaction in me. Heat was running from my cowboy boots to my head. She was soft, and delicate in my arms. In this moment, I wanted nothing more than a chance to take away her sorrow.
She sucked in a sharp breath of air then pushed away from me. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Come on, I’ll show you to your old bunk.”
“My bunk?” I asked. She didn’t have any guests and she was the only one in a massive three-bedroom house. I wondered why she didn’t want me staying under her own roof, but I wasn’t going to push it.
“Yes, that is where you’ll be staying. Just for tonight,” she said, delivering that last line with a stern look.
“All right. I’ll get my bag,” I said and followed her out of the kitchen to the living room. I grabbed my hat from the banister of the stairway and put it on my head. Then I picked up my duffle bag. I followed her out onto the porch, then out the main area of the ranch. I looked around taking it all in on the Texas night. Of course, there were lights across trees and light poles here and there lighting things up at night. I could hear the sounds of the horses and the goats in the barn. It felt good. The familiarity made me feel like I was at home, kind of a second home.
“Man, I sure have missed this,” I said, looking around.
“I’m glad this place is still in your heart and that it made an impression on you. Your own family ranch must be quite a prize,” she said.
“Yes, but we are mostly in the plains. This is surrounded by Texas Hill Country. Look at all them trees—it’s just different here you know,” I said, looking at the thick patches of brush and large trees here and there.
“Yes, I do know it’s different and I like it too. It’s one of my favorite things about this ranch, the riding trails that go through the patches of forest. I’ll never get tired of it.”
“Me neither,” I said. Then something caught my attention in the light. I dropped my duffle bag and ran right over. “Look at this,” I said.
I put my hand on one of the fence rails, and saw it was barely hanging on. I lifted it up and put it against the fence post that it should be nailed to. Helen walked over.
“Yes, I know that fence needs mending, but I just haven’t had a chance to get to it. I had to let go of more than half of the staff and can only afford to have them here when the guests are and that is mainly on the weekends. They are busy with the guests then, with no time to be mending all the things that need to be fixed around here. I’ll get to it eventually, but it’s just not the priority right now,” she said.
I wanted to say that I would fix it. But the look in her eyes let me know not to even go there. So I let it go, and ran back over to my duffle bag and picked it up. Then I walked alongside her on the familiar route to my old bunk.
“Actually, follow me,” she said, switching directions.
“Alright,” I said, following behind her. It was then that I realized she was walking me toward the guest bungalows. I was confused. I gave her a look as she stopped in front of bungalow number one.
“No use in these nice bungalows going to waste. Your old one has bunk beds, remember, for the workers. This one is much nicer.” She opened the door and turned on the light.
Memories flooded me as I walked in. Of course I had seen the guest bungalows many times and even cleaned them a few times. But seeing it now was like looking at an old photograph.
“This is nice. And don’t worry, I’ll clean up after myself tomorrow. I’ll take the sheets off and throw them in the wash and everything,” I said.
“Damn straight you will,” she teased me with a grin.
Then she turned on her heels and walked toward the front door. She stopped in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. Her beauty was breathtaking.
“I am glad to see you, Dylan Dawson. Don’t think that I’m not. Goodnight now,” she said, then walked out and headed back to the house.
Putting down my duffle bag, I walked to the open doorway. I put my hands above my head on the door overhang and leaned out a little. I wanted to watch her walk back to the house, just to make sure she got there safely. Yes, I knew she walked these grounds many times a day, but you never knew what could happen on a ranch at night. A rattlesnake, a stray coyote—it was all possible. Finally, she walked up the steps and turned off the back porch light.
Still standing in the doorway, I looked to the side. There was a nice cement slab with two rocking chairs and a table. They sat underneath the overhang making a nice little porch area, even though it wasn’t elevated. The guest would be able to sit there with their coffee and watch the ranch wake up in the morning.
Stepping into my bungalow, I closed the door but quickly found I was too anxious. I grabbed a bottle of water from the table and drank it. I started to go through my bag and pulled out an unopened bottle of scotch whiskey. “I guess you will have to wait,” I said to it. I had bought it when I arrived in town, thinking the night would play out differently. I was hoping we would have dinner and maybe have a few drinks together in front of the fire pit. But things were a little strange. Awkward. She had pushed me away and sent me to sleep in a separate building, many yards away from the main house.
I decided that I was far too wound up to try to settle into sleep just yet. I walked out into the night air, needing a nice nighttime stroll. In a matter of minutes, the details of the layout had all come back to me and I knew my way around as though I had never left. It was a good walk down memory lane. This ranch had a special place in my heart and I really wanted to help the Larson Dude Ranch be successful again. I wanted to help Helen.
6
Helen
The Texas sunshine hit my eyes as I laid in bed. I was in those moments between fully asleep and fully awake, and I started to think about all the things I needed to do that day on the ranch. Marshall would be there this morning to set the animals out to pasture, then I would need to bring them in before sundown. I would need to contact some sponsors about getting their groups to come out for their corporate events, and then—
“Dylan,” I whispered.
The memory hit me like a bolt of lightning—Dylan Dawson had shown up out of the blue last night!
In my sleep, I had forgotten and the realization came roaring back to me. I sat straight up in bed. Putting my hand on my forehead, I remembered how I had pushed him away for hugging me, and now I just felt embarrassed, as if it was an overreaction.
I sat there remembering each moment I’d shared with him the night before. The heated sparring out on the driveway. The way he hugged me when he was consoling me. At first, it felt good to be hugged, and I was genuinely sad about Steve. But the moment had passed, and it was no longer consoling. Suddenly it was this attractive man holding me instead and I grew very aware of the fact that this shift had occurred inside me. My sadness was pushed away by lust. I had quickly moved away from him and taken him to a bungalow, basically putting him a safe distance away from me where I wouldn’t be able to touch him again
The evening seemed to hold several awkward moments like that, and I didn’t know if I was experiencing them alone, or if he was feeling something, too. Even our arguments about his presence felt like foreplay instead of an actual argument.
What the hell was wrong with me? “Get it together Helen. He is leaving today,” I said, as I put my feet on the floor to get out of bed. Staying focused on business would be very important today. I couldn’t be distracted wondering if it was right to have an attraction to this younger man!
I went into my bathroom and pulled off my nightgown and stepped into the shower. A nice hot shower wou
ld do me good and wake me up. Staying on my regular routine was what I needed, but Dylan had shown up and thrown a wrench in that. Not to mention the fact that I felt all topsy-turvy just trying to figure out if I was happy he showed up, or actually angry at him? I knew that my anger was not really toward him—it was what he brought out in me, and I just wasn’t ready to face that yet.
But even in the shower, I couldn’t get Dylan off my mind. It didn’t help that I was naked and hot water was running down my body. It wasn’t completely my fault though since I hadn’t been with a man since my husband passed. I was human after all and humans had needs. I was starting to become very aware of that fact every time I looked at or even thought of Dylan’s fit body.
I got dressed, pulling on my Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and a button-down snap western shirt. I brushed my black hair and put it in a braid over my shoulder. Now, I needed coffee. I definitely needed coffee.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I made a fresh pot. I made more than I usually did, knowing that Dylan would probably be knocking on my door and joining me, even though there was a coffee maker in his own bungalow. The thought of having morning coffee with an attractive man and sharing some morning banter made me feel happy for a second. There was joy to be had in that simple morning ritual and I had missed it badly.
Whack. Whack.
The sound of a hammer echoed in the background. It didn’t phase me at first, it was a common sound on the ranch, always something going on. I moved to the kitchen window just as I realized that my ranch hand Marshall typically wouldn’t be here this early. He would be the only one working on the ranch and would only be tending the animals at that. Then I saw him. I saw Dylan mending the fence that he had pointed out the night before. He was hammering in nails on the rail post. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and was clad only in jeans and boots, a handkerchief underneath his cowboy hat and that was it. I sucked in a sharp breath of air as I looked at him. He was incredibly gorgeous and the fact that he was working was only more of a turn on. Then that brief moment of lust turned to fury as I realized he was doing exactly what I asked him not to do.
