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Heather
“A rental at the ranch?”
Please no. Fuck no.
The Grand River Ranch was Burton’s largest employer. Sprawling over thousands of acres, the ranch and farm business did well enough to survive all the ups and downs of the agriculture economy.
It was a big place, and I was familiar with the rental cabins that many of the ranch hands stayed at. They stood near the side of the property, on the border near the woods. Eric used to live in one for a long while until he wanted to move into a small house and fix it up.
Eric and Gavin both worked there, but even they had higher standards than wanting to rent those dinky cabins.
“Yeah. You know the ones I’m talking about,” Gavin said.
I weakly nodded at my former classmate. Gavin and I were never close. He was older than me, a senior when I was a freshman, but even then, he was so clearly besotted and monopolized by his girlfriend, who was still his probably pregnant-again wife.
I was familiar with those cabins. They were small, old, and I swore half of them had their roofs caving in from years of neglect. All the priority lay on the herds and crops at Grand River, not the employee housing.
Too easily, my mind wandered, and I did not care for the vision that I imagined. Those tiny shacks would be so filthy. Grimy and full of nothing but centipedes and spiders. Cobwebs and rotten mold would cover the walls. They couldn’t be more than studio-sized spaces, seeming so diminutive that a bedroom would be farfetched. Claustrophobia wasn’t a great sensation, and that was saying something since I was coming from a small but outrageously expensive rental in Chicago. Stuck surrounded by four walls in a ramshackle hut would be oppressively daunting.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, hating how exhausted I sounded. A long drive and now this.
Instead of feeling a modicum of safety and security here, back in my old stomping grounds, so to speak, I felt more untethered. I didn’t belong. How could I when I didn’t fit in all my life? But I was hoping that having a place to settle into would make me feel...well, settled. More secure than I did in Chicago when David was near.
“No good?” Gavin guessed.
I cringed, debating how to answer.
No, renting one of those cabins was not a good idea.
“Do they...” I couldn’t shake off this image of a spooky, derelict shack. The roof would drop on me in the middle of the night. The walls could cave in and give way at the slightest closure of a door.
Is it furnished? This place upstairs on Main Street was supposed to have furniture, but since walking through with Eric while we waited for Jerry to show up, “furnished” was a stretch of the imagination. A ratty futon and a rickety chair didn’t count as “furnished,” and that wasn’t because I thought I was some sort of so-called fancy city woman with special requirements.
Having a bed was a basic human need. Preferably sans stains and bed bugs.
Hell, having running water was a simple essential.
“Do those cabins even have utilities turned on?” I asked, glancing from Gavin to Eric. Neither rented those little huts anymore, but they’d rented them before.
“Afraid of a little well water?” the older stranger asked.
I clamped my mouth shut and narrowed my eyes at him again. This tall, bearded man wasn’t from around here, not from what I could tell. If I’d met this smirking asshole, I’d remember enough to recognize those bright green eyes glittering with annoyance.
The mere implication that I’d be terrified of something as banal as water was insulting. I’d faced a lot of fears recently, and I wasn’t in the mindset to tolerate some stranger ridiculing me, mocking that I could be scared or that it was a crime to ever feel frightened.
You fucker. “I’m not afraid of—”
“Yes, Heather,” Gavin cut in. He shot the man next to him a sharp look before facing me again. “The utilities are on. Once winter comes, they shut off the lines to the vacant cabins, but it’s not that cold yet.”
Small mercy.
“It’s better than nothing,” Eric said.
“Um, excuse me?” Jerry stepped forward. “What about me?” He pointed up at the apartment I was supposed to be moving into. “What are you going to do about this?”
“Nothing.” I snorted. “Nothing at all, Jerry. Your apartment was broken into. I wasn’t in possession of the key or locking it.”
Locks. I furrowed my brow and glanced at Eric, then Gavin again. “Are those cabins secure?”
There was no way in hell I could sleep in one of those hovels without a legitimate lock and key.
Oh, screw this. There’s no way those things can be safe.
“Sure they do,” Gavin said.
“I’m not sure...” I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling a bone-deep fatigue that I debated sleeping in my car. I could attest to the locks on those doors. “Maybe I can sleep on it and look for something tomorrow morning.”
“Well...” Jerry said, changing from his angry tone to a wheedling, smarmy one as he smiled at me. “I got a little house on the outskirts. It’ll cost you triple the rent I was going to charge you for this apartment.”
I scowled at him. “Oh, just...shut up.”
He rolled his eyes.
“There aren’t really many places for rent, though,” Eric said. The apology in his voice cut me. He didn’t have to find me a place to stay, and I respected that he was sort of trying to help.
“I’ll...” I sighed, trying to change my vision of a barebones dump to something clean but safe. My creativity was out of juice though.
“I know it’s probably not what you’re used to,” Eric said, “but the least you could do is check it out. Todd won’t mind letting you stay at one of the ranch cabins.”
“Oh, I know it wouldn’t be what I’m used to,” I replied, surprised for a moment that Todd was still the supervising ranch hand at Grand River. He had to be over eighty by now.
“Let me guess.” The bearded man tilted his head to the side, eyeing me up and down again. “You’re too good for handling a little bit of country?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I expected everyone in Burton to judge me. They always had, associating me as a nobody and waste of space just because my parents were. But this man, this stranger, had no damn right.
“Roarke,” Gavin warned, again putting his hand up. “Not now.”
I stalked closer, getting in Roarke’s face. Pushing past Gavin’s hand, I got right up and personal, glowering back at the taller man. This close, he seemed too damn big. Too tall. Just how freaking wide could a man’s shoulders reach? Scents of beer and clean soap mixed in a tempting fragrance, but I’d be damned if I let the lure of his body heat get to me. It wasn’t that damn cold out here yet.
“Not ever.” I stuck my finger at him, wishing I could jab it at his chest and propel him back from me. “You don’t ever get to assume you know me to judge me.”
Looking down his nose at me, he didn’t budge. No flinch. No glare. He didn’t react in any other way than to stand there like an unpassable wall, studying me too damn closely for comfort.
“I came from this bit of country. Of course, I can handle it.”
Two years ago, I didn’t want to handle it. I had zero desire to linger and tolerate this small town for a second longer than what was necessary.
Now, I had to. I had to return, but that didn’t mean I had to put up with crap from hot strangers like this—
No. What?
I grimaced, hating that I could acknowledge how hot this man was, pulling me in to want to make him react and snap.
“Fine.” I shook my head, both to clear my thoughts and to jerk out of this weird draw to Roarke. “I’ll...” I sighed as I looked at Eric, who winced.
It’s not like the night can get any worse, right?
“I’ll check out one of those cabins,” I muttered.
Giving in wasn’t easy. I hated to admit defeat in any situation, but if agreeing to take one of those ranch rentals was my next best option, I’d do it.
Whatever it takes to get me away from this guy, whoever the hell he is.
