6. Gunnar

Chapter 6

Gunnar

I grip the Jesus Handle a little too tightly despite Fable driving as slow as my granny used to. She drives under the speed limit, always in the slow lane, and leans a little too far forward in her seat as if the road is going somewhere when she blinks. Her knuckles are white as she squeezes the steering wheel so hard, it drains the blood there. Either she's nervous about driving something so large or there's something else going on here. It's not like I can ask. My instructions were to get her to the ranch safe and happy, so that's what I'm doing.

But no one drives my truck, so I'm as much a nervous wreck as she is.

"You're gonna wanna turn left up here at the light," I instruct her. "This thing ain't got a good turning radius so you'll have to swing wider than you're probably used to."

She turns her blinker on well in advance and when she turns, it's as slow as a snail. Hell, snails could probably outpace us right about now. Still, I don't speak up. She's being insanely careful, and I don't want my truck wrecked, so it doesn't really matter. We'll get there eventually.

"So, what made you want to come out to Wyoming, Fable?" I ask when the silence only adds to my anxiety. "Besides how amazing I am."

She glances at me and then quickly focuses back on the road. "This was a birthday present, so I suppose a celebration of sorts," she answers, but her tone lacks the excitement most people have when they mention their birthdays. Her words seem almost. . . sad.

I whistle. "Someone must love you a whole lot, Ms. Everhart. I think you're the first person to ever book the month-long stay."

"She does," she answers with a smile, and then that smile falls like a melting glacier. "Did."

I pick up on it, but it's probably not the right time to ask, not while she's driving my truck and there's clearly a sad story there. The sadness in her eyes makes my bones ache and I want nothing more than to give her a hug, but that's probably improper when we hardly know each other. Something tells me though that she could use a really good hug right about now.

I decide changing the subject is probably the best and safest bet, so I force myself to relax back into the seat. "First time on a ranch?"

"Yes, it will be," she answers.

Her eyes keep going to the rearview mirror, as if she's looking for someone following her. I carefully lean to my right and look in the side mirror, but there's no one behind us that looks like they're following. Maybe the woman has an abusive ex or something. Maybe she's paranoid. Either way, I like to doublecheck. I've learned enough in my years to know it's better to take things seriously at first rather than regret not doing so later.

"Well, you're going to enjoy yourself. We have a whole host of things you can try, including horseback riding. I've already picked out the sweetest horse for you, but if that seems daunting, we have a donkey who enjoys being ridden to. I know Rhett will wanna show you the bees during harvest. I'd love to show you around once we get there, but the boss barely gave me enough time to get you there. There are some things I'll have to tend to once we get back, but I'll gladly carry your bags to your cabin for you and show you where you'll be staying if you're okay with that."

"I understand," she nods, and flicks her eyes to the backseat again. "I imagine there's always something to do on a ranch the size of Circle Bee."

He nods. "Everyone has a job. You're welcome to join in if you'd like, but it's not mandatory. I'm sure Rhett will read you the rules, but as for me, I'm just your limousine," I tease with a smile.

She glances over at me with an answering smile, and it brightens her entire face despite it being a small one. She's a beautiful woman, that's for sure. Curves in all the right places, thick curly hair she currently has tied up in a ponytail, and soft hazel eyes make for a pretty combination. Soft freckles dust across her nose and the tops of her cheeks despite the warm tawny brown of her skin. Her features speak of somewhere more tropical, and I can picture her on a white sandy beach somewhere. Though there are dark circles beneath her eyes and an exhaustion to her, she's perfect.

And probably off limits since she's our guest. Did Rhett make that one of the rules? I don't remember.

"I really appreciate you letting me drive," she says, breaking me from my perusal. "I know it was a silly thing to ask?—"

"Nonsense," I say, waving away her words. "It's not a big deal. Really."

It is, but I'll never tell her that. Whatever reason she has for not being able to ride as a passenger in a vehicle is her own. Maybe she'll tell me one day. For now, it's a small thing when she drives as careful as she does. The woman should be a poster ad for a driving school.

What should have been a thirty-minute drive turns into a nearly hour long one as we finally pull onto the small highway that'll take us to Circle Bee. We stay slow, barely speeding up to the speed limit if we ever reach it.

As we start to carefully ease down the road, I glance over at Fable again, taking note of the shiftiness of her eyes, the way she keeps glancing in the mirror as if there's something there. Whether it's paranoia or anxiety, it's a problem. Paranoid people are observant. Anxious people are always looking for a reason to be anxious.

We're gonna have to make sure everything that needs to be locked up is locked tight so she doesn't stumble somewhere she shouldn't be. Everyone will have to be on guard at all times. Shit, this is gonna be a real problem if we're not careful.

I just know it.