Chapter 9

“Turn right,” the GPS mocks as I stare at what’s not actually a road like it implies. It’s made out of gravel, and there’s a weird metal grate in the middle of it that I’ll have to drive across. It kind of looks like it might be hell on my tires, but the GPS assures me this is the road I need to take.

“I don’t know, William,” I murmur, peering over my steering wheel. “I know it’s a ranch, but this is starting to feel a little Hills Have Eyes.” I glance to the side. “Well, mountains.” There are no hills here. Definitely mountains. The great giants are still topped with snow halfway up. I can imagine how beautiful they must look in the winter. A nice steaming cup of hot chocolate and a crackling fire would make for a great morning here.

“This is probably silly,” I tell William as I sigh. But I follow the directions from the GPS and slowly drive over the large grate that shakes everything in my car and go slowly down the gravel road. It’s hell in my tiny BMW, the bumps and holes in the road tossing us around so much, I worry we’ll have whiplash. William meows in protest and I slow further to make him feel better, moving down the road at a snail’s pace.

This is just a silly adventure, I tell myself. Going out to see about this job? Probably high on my list of mistakes. The further down this gravel road I drive, the more of a mistake it feels. I only have experience in the tech world and should probably look for something like that, but something about the idea of ranch life seems nice. And this town is adorable. Besides, room and board? And food? I can easily search for other tech work between petting some horses and feeding them. And I doubt anyone will find me out here in the middle of nowhere. The deeper I drive into the ranch, the safer it feels. I bet I can remain practically anonymous out here. The Crows for sure won’t look for me here.

A large metal arch appears over the road, the words Steele Mountain Ranch hanging rusty and forlorn. One of the E’s in Steele is hanging crooked, as if it’s going to fall off any moment.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I tell William, wincing. The sign doesn’t look promising.

I’m about to convince myself to turn around and go back the way I came when I crest a hill and the house comes into view. Framed by the mountains behind it, the house—or mansion—stands framed perfectly for a painting. God, if someone hasn’t painted this scene, they’ve seriously missed out.

“Wow,” I breathe. Painted white and as picturesque as it could get, the house sits large and imposing before me. Someone spent a lot of time making it look like it does. A full wraparound porch sits lined with rocking chairs and porch swings. All the trim is a dark blue, and the front door is painted a brighter blue. The style feels a little bit Victorian, which makes me think the house is older than it appears, but it’s clearly well-maintained. It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.

White picket fences surround the house, keeping the cows and horses out in the fields. A few dogs lay on the porch, but at my approach, they all perk up and one big red one runs off and bays at us. William shrinks down in his seat, concerned. Most of the people meandering around the yard glance up and stare at my car in confusion, but it’s the man who appears through the blue door and steps down off the porch that captures my attention.

He’s wiping his hands with a red rag that he immediately shoves in his back pocket when he sees my little purple car. His brows furrow, but it doesn’t do anything to contradict his attractiveness. Christ, Georgia wasn’t kidding about the men here. His face has a dusting of scruff along his jawline, highlighting the sharpness of it. He wears a beige cowboy hat that makes his black hair stand out in the sunshine as he comes walking up while I throw my car in park. He wears the same jeans Wiley did. Bless whoever invented those. His button down is blue and rolled up at the sleeves, giving me an appreciative look at his toned forearms.

When I step out of the car, he takes in my appearance and his frown deepens. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

I close the car door when the dog comes sniffing at it to make sure William will be okay before facing him fully. I smile brightly, wanting to give a good first impression. “Hi! Yes. I’m here about the job.” When he stares at me in confusion, I shift. “The one you posted up in town. Wiley told me to tell you he sent me.”

He looks me up and down again. This close, I can see the color of his eyes. They’re the most unusual shade of grey I’ve ever seen, almost lilac. With the strong jawline and the long lashes, this man appears made for modeling rather than ranch life, but there’s a hardness to him that wouldn’t work on a runway. Like a diamond in the rough. I wonder if anyone has ever told him that.

“No offense, ma’am,” he says when he finishes looking me over. “But you don’t exactly look like you belong on a ranch.”

I look down at my sweats and comfy shirt and grimace. I’m even wearing slip on shoes right now in favor of comfort and my hair is still knotted up on top of my head. “I’m not afraid of hard work. These are just my road trip clothes.”

William appears on the dash of my car and meows, demanding to be let out. It makes the man raise his brows and I can see he doesn’t believe my words one bit.

“I’m assuming you’re not from around these parts,” he muses.

“I’m not.”

When I don’t say where I’m from, he stares at me curiously but doesn’t comment. Instead, he shrugs. “Oh, well, I guess this’ll be a fast lesson or a surprise for you then. Either way, I’ll be entertained. I’ll draw you up a contract and I’ll need your information to run a background check on you.” At my tension, he narrows his eyes. “It’s standard for work here. It remains confidential. I’m the only one who sees it.”

“Okay,” I nod. “I can sign whatever you need.”

He points up at a small cabin off to the side of the house, quaint and cute. “That there is where you’ll be staying. It’s included as part of the job. If any other women come to work here, you may have to share, but I don’t expect any.”

“Not many women come to work on ranches?” I ask.

He shrugs. “A few here and there, but not usually as live-ins.”

“Is it okay if I have a cat?” I ask, gesturing to William. “He’s well-behaved and he doesn’t scratch anything.”

Nodding, he sighs. “Just be careful around ole Red. He don’t see too well and thinks the cats are sometimes coons. Still reliving his glory days of coon hunting.” He pats the red hound on the head who bays happily and wags his tail. “I’m Dakota by the way.”

“Kate,” I answer with a smile. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

He snorts. “I can’t afford to turn away help right now. Just try not to waste anyone’s time if this isn’t for you.” He turns and pats his thigh for the dog to follow. “Welcome to Steele Mountain Ranch, Ms. Kate. For your sake, I hope this isn’t a mistake.” He meets my eyes. “We could really use the help.”

I grin. “You won’t regret it.”

He mumbles something under his breath that sounds a little like, “I already do,” but I brush it off. It doesn’t matter. Things can’t be that difficult here. I can do this.

I pull my car over to the cabin and snap on William’s leash before heading up toward the front door. Out in the field, I spy another man, a baby cow wrapped in his arms. He carries it from one field to the other without any effort. Dakota shouts something at him and the man scowls, but I can’t make out the words from his twang. The man in the field is large and handsome, his face bearded and beautiful. Jesus. Am I just going to be surrounded by beautiful men here? That might make working difficult if I’m constantly distracted by the way their jeans hug their asses.

He catches my eyes from across the field, scowls when he finds me looking, and turns away.

Apparently, not everyone will be as welcoming as Wiley.